Writer's Note: Salutations and welcome. This is another story from my vault. I wrote this back in 2019 or something like that, but it was never meant to be a fanfiction. However, like it said in the description, it’s autumn and I am craving romance, so I am going back to my comfort place: fanfiction and Yunjae. Please comment and I truly hope you’ll enjoy this.

Author’s Note: This story is set in an alternate universe, in an imaginary town and country, and during an ambiguous time period.

 

Jaejoong was having a nightmare wide awake. He never thought it possible.

 

However, it looked like all the songs and poems about dreaming while being wide awake were true. You could have a nightmare while you were not asleep, because nothing else explained what he was currently experiencing. If it was reality, he reasoned he would be in the twilight zone. And he knew for a fact he wasn't in the twilight zone. So, it was a nightmare. Nothing else made sense.

 

He was at a small 90’s-themed diner called Lily's that was fifteen minutes away from his campus, and he had been set for a good night out with a friend. A friend he had been extremely excited to see face-to-face for the first time. A friend he had never met face-to-face until this evening. A faceless, nameless friend that had filled him with joys of an exciting future.

 

Two hours spent getting ready and arriving almost an hour early with his stomach tied into nervous, excited knots did not deserve to be rewarded with this out of body experience. 

 

This felt like a cruel joke by the universe.

 

He could feel his palms softening up as his forehead moistened up. His head pounded so hard, he felt as if his skull was rattling. 

 

Kim Jaejoong was ready for flight, his  sympathetic nervous system was doing its job, but he was frozen. Like a statue. A  breathing statue. A sweating statue. His lips were parted and his breathing was laborious and loud. He was literally panting as if he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Which was apt, because Jaejoong believed he was indeed having what could possibly be an anxiety attack. 

 

 His body felt like dead weight. 

 

He supposed he would have to man up and fight. 

 

They’ve made eye contact. His heart jumped and clogged up his throat.

 

He could not act like he did not see him or know him. It was too late. 

 

This guy, his walking, breathing nightmare was looking down at him with eyes that told him they were, one, focused on him, and two, recognized him. 

 

?

 

It had only been about a year since they graduated high school; only a year since they had last seen each other. It was too soon to play the memory loss card—or was it?

 

He had been too immersed in his joyous thoughts to notice the dark figure approaching him. Now, as if punishment for his happiness, the grand devil stood by his table, looking at him with impenetrable, bottomless, skin crawling dark eyes that mirrored the inside of a coffin that was six-feet deep under thick earth. Where Jaejoong wished he was. 

 

The not-yet-a-stranger-but-not-an-acquaintance's eyes were fitting for the occasion. This moment mirrored a funeral, Jajoong thought. His funeral. 

 

As if in a trance, Jaejoong stared at the guy in extreme shock and spine-tingling horror, before he finally managed to break their eye contact. Only then, was he able to focus. 

 

Not only was this not-yet-a-stranger-but-not-an-acquaintance's eyes dark, illegible, it was also intense. Very intense.

 

Clearing his throat, taking a shaky breath, Jaejoong felt his face morphing into a tight smile. He felt stupid. He felt like Pavlov's dog. Trained to fear his tormentor. Trained to smile at the calm, relaxed face of his bully peering blankly down at him. Trained to tremble at simply seeing him. Trained to be a coward. And he hated that.

 

It was a year. He was different. He was not in high school anymore. He was grown and mature.

 

 He was not a coward, therefore, he would not cower. 

 

He was strong. 

 

Swallowing, he curled his fingers, hiding the trembling of his hands. 

 

They spoke at the same time, with Jaejoong muttering his name, with all the inflections of a question: "Y-Yunho?” 

 

! He winced at the stutter.

 

And he, Jung Yunho, simply stuttered out a hi: “H–Hi.”

 

He had some shame. Ah! 

 

They clamped their mouths shut at the same time. If he, Yunho, was any other person, and if Jaejoong was not himself but someone else too, it would have been a funny moment. A humorous, light hearted scene. It was not, however. They were themselves, and this was not funny, cute, or a humorous occasion. 

 

Jaejoong pressed his full lips in a straight line. He refused to tear his gaze away from Jung Yunho’s face. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, he felt the need to flee, but he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t. He was already regretful over how stupid and weak he had sounded when he spoke because his voice raised in pitch, showing his surprise and distress. Yunho could never know of the effect he had on him. Never again. 

 

Jung Yunho, what was he doing here? Jaejoong wondered, his question evident in his eyes.

 

Yunho smiled, his eyes forming slits, and the dimples that formed craters in his olive-colored cheeks appeared. The smile was easy and charming, and it mirrored a human smile. It looked genuine. Jaejoong was both grossed out and stunned. What a great actor.

 

“JJ? Hi? What are you–” There was a slight stammer in the imposing jock’s deep, smooth baritone voice. 

 

“Jaejoong,” he said sternly, correcting him. His voice was steady. He cheered-up a little.

 

Only his close friends got the privilege of calling him by that nickname.

 

Yunho blinked slowly, his thick, curly eyelashes mingling before separating, taken aback at his old classmate’s reply. How did such dead, hideous eyes be shaped so gorgeously and framed by such luxurious eyelashes? 

 

Everything about Yunho was a paradox. How could such an outwardly gorgeous person be so cruel and ugly inside?

 

“What?”

 

Jaejoong hated him. 

 

Hideous, hot, unabashed anger and hatred seethed through Jaejoong, now that the first wave of shock had rode through him, leaving him barely intact. 

 

He was staring up at his bully. Handsome, but his bully.

 

Jung Yunho and his group of friends made his high school years a nightmare. Because of him, he went through a time period when he thought being six feet deep was better than another day in this hellish place called the living. He hated the very skin he was in. He lashed out on everything and everyone. All because of Jung Yunho.

 

He hated him with the burning passion of a trillion blue stars.

 

Inhaling deeply, Jaejoong unraveled his tall, lithe frame, and said, dropping his smile, holding the male’s gaze. They were the same height. “That’s my name.”

 

He blinked in the same luxurious manner again. “Yes? Sorry?” Everything he said sounded like a question. He looked flitty and uncertain. He shook his head, looking as if he were drunk and lost in a mist.

 

Frowning, Yunho looked on the ground, trying to find himself. Locking eyes with Jaejoong, for the first time, Jaejoong saw a sliver of human emotion in those dead eyes of the soccer player. 

 

“Wha—?” He paused and smiled again. A muscle in his cheek tensed.

 

Yunho had never been this smiley with him before. Not when he was busy destroying his teenage years, making every day a living hell.

 

The longer Jaejoong looked at Yunho’s blank expression and smelled his aftershave—cologne, or whatever he had on—the hotter he felt, and the darker his mood got. 

 

He tried to side step Yunho, not trusting his voice. 

 

Why did Yunho approach him? They weren’t friends. They’ve never had a relationship where bumping into each other was a pleasant surprise. In fact, it was the opposite. 

 

He was here to have a good time, to meet up with a good friend, not come face to face with his tormentor. Someone he had been trying to forget.

 

This was an emotional quagmire.

 

“W-wait,” Yunho stammered, a pleading tune creeping in his voice.

 

Jaejoong looked at the flustered Yunho in shock. Was he seeing right? “What?” he said sharply.

 

He inhaled, his big chest inflating and deflating. He parted those pillowy lips of his and gave him that ardent look—that come hither look. “Please?” 

Jaejoong froze in the shock of what he was experiencing. 

 

Please? His pleas weren’t heard four years ago and nor would Yunho’s now.

 

Jaejoong clenched his fingers into fists, grinded his teeth, and said for Yunho’s ears only, “ you.” 

 

He could never, and he refused, to ever be freed of his acrimonious feelings for Yunho. Would forever be a high school bully.

 

The day he walked across the stage during his graduation commencement and accepted his high school diploma, he promised the fourteen-year-old him that he would never—never—let anyone ever make him feel as Yunho and his group of friends did. He would never go back to the person he was in high school.

 

Pavlov’s dog or not, he was determined to eradicate his conditioning.

 

Yunho took a slight step back, those ridiculously thick eyebrows of his jumping up at the unexpected reaction. Finally, he had a visible expression; it was a mixture of shock, bewilderment, and...fear. Jaejoong swore he saw wrong. It could not be. 

 

Yunho was an emotionless demon.

 

Jaejoong did not fight his smile. He let it take over. 

 

He was the one getting to Yunho. It would not be the other way around. That he promised himself.

 

“I…” Yunho sighed, looked around a bit before his inexpressive dark brown eyes landed on Jaejoong. His full, salmon-pink, pillowy lips trembled. 

 

He had always thought Yunho had dead, beady eyes and intense gazes. One of the only faults Jaejoong could ever find on his face. Which had always made sense to Jaejoong, because someone with such a rotten personality needed a tell-tale sign on his face that gave everything away. His eyes were a reflection of the inhumane monster he harbored deep within him, he had thought. 

 

And, funnily enough, the jock had never proved him wrong during their four years of high school. 

 

Jung Yunho was monstrous.

 

The eyes are a window to the soul. An idiom that has never been truer.

 

“Hey…” Yunho tried again, his voice not breaking. When Jaejoong glared at him, he stopped in his tracks and he looked away, appearing to be unable to hold Jaejoong’s impatient, hated filled glare.

 

No, no, no. No!

 

“Excuse me, I do not have the time. I am here to meet someone.”

 

How come he never knew Yunho was going to the same university? 

 

If he had known he was even applying to this university, he wouldn’t have thought of coming here.

 

How did he even get in?

 

Pulling out his phone, he walked past the towering teen and checked his notifications. 

 

Nothing.

 

No texts. No missed calls. Nothing!

 

What was wrong with his companion? He was late and there was no text message of apology. Nothing! Because of his tardiness Yunho thought it appropriate to approach him.

 

!

 

He wanted to cry.

 

He needed to get away. He needed to get out of this diner. Get as far away as he could from that thing! That thing he thought he left behind in high school.  He wanted to be as far away from his past self, his weakness, his pains and the nightmare.

 

He ing hated this.

 

He hated that he had reacted as he had at seeing that guy.

 

“!” He grinded his teeth together. His airway felt restricted. He needed to get out of the restaurant. He felt like he was about to get sick.

 

“Where the are you?” He griped, furiously thumbing his phone, texting the person he was supposed to be having a “grand ole” time with at that moment. 

 

Jaejoong had freed his Saturday evening to make the acquaintance of his mysterious internet friend that he knew so much about, except for what he looked like, his name, or voice.

 

Was the universe playing a sick joke on him? Where was A.aime, his kind, sweet, compassionate internet friend that he thought, before this moment, that he had a major crush? The guy he had been talking to for almost two semesters now?

 

Rushing outside of Lilly’s, Jaejoongdecided he needed to call him. He needed to get here and make everything alright, like his message on the university’s website had made Jaejoong feel seena nd less alone last fall when he read it.

 

Slumping against the wall, he closed his eyes and took in deep, even breaths.

 

He needed to calm the down.

 

He was different from his high school self.

 

Everything was different. He was in control.

 

He would not let Jung Yunho control him after high school, instill fear in him, or destroy his evening.

 

So what if he had seen the last person he’d ever wanted to see, not even if they were the last two people in the world. He’d rather die in solitude. 

 

Taking in one last, deep, deep breath, he pictured what he thought A.aime looked like, running up to him right now with a large smile. With sound, reasonable apologies ready for him being late. He probably stopped to get him flowers or something. Jaejoong didn’t want to appear delusional, but he thinks A.aime likes him, too. At least, there was potential there.

 

He was going to live his university romance, the kind he didn’t get to enjoy in high school because of the homophobia his backwards town was, is, shrouded in. He was now in a big city, in a diverse and inclusive environment. He was on a campus that has an lgbta+ organization. An organization that he was a member of! An organization where he had made so many friends, including his best friend, Bryan. He was no longer part of a small group. He was now part of a large, protective community.

 

He had no reason to be scared. He was no longer powerless and defenseless.

 

He was different.

 

He slowly opened his eyes, chanting, “Everything is okay. I am fine. It’s all good.”

 

He was going to get his prior mood back and wait for A.aime. He would not leave Lilly’s—who was Jung Yunho to run him off?

 

He was going to meet A.aime as planned and they would have a great time together. He would have a great night.

 

He was a different, changed, more confident, and in control man.

 

He was not Pavlov’s dog.

 

Yunho, homophobia, and everyone like him.

 

Standing up straight, he inhaled again, loudly and deeply.

 

“I can do this.”

 

Clutching his phone, the skin over his knuckles hurting from the stretch, he turned around only to see that Jung-the--Yunho was walking toward him. His steps were slow and measured.

 

Instead of running away, which he felt like doing, Jaejoong stayed rooted. He was not going to go back on his words. He would not be running away anymore.

 

Yunho met and held Jaejoong’s eyes. 

 

Yunho looked down for a quick moment, and ran his palms down his sideburns before he balled them by his side, body rigid. He looked back up and held Jaejoong’s gaze.

 

Jaejoong felt chilled to the bones.

 

A.aime, please come now! Was his desperate thought as he felt a nervous shiver slithering down his spine.

 

“Hey...Umm…Wait! Don’t…” He swallowed. “I, JJ—Jaejoong!” he rapidly corrected himself, stopping a good four feet away from him. “Hear me out, please.”

 

He hated his pleading. And he hated the rise he got out of him. He hated how he was starting to hyperventilate, and he could feel the quiver in his fingers. He hated that Yunho’s clear eyes gave it away that he noticed his reaction.

 

What was wrong with him? He was not weak! 

 

I am different!

 

Yunho’s eyes softened as he looked at a petrified Jaejoong. Stealing time, he decided to moisturize his lips, starting with his bottom lip before moving to the top, the shape of a heart. Jaejoong focused on the insignificant action to orient himself and regain his composure.

 

Jaejoong began counting down backward to ten and regained his control.

 

“Please. Just one—”

 

“What do you want? Why are you stalking me? I….We are strangers. What can you have to say to me?”

 

“Yes, I—”

 

“We were never friends.”

 

Yunho paused and took a deep breath. He batted his eyelids hard, conflicted feelings dashed a quick waltz over his clean, harmonious features. “I...I know that.” He stammered once more. 

 

That was not the Yunho he had been subjected to only a few months ago.

 

The Yunho he knew never stammered, was always confident, and was ruthless.

 

How much could a year away at university change someone? What happened to the confident leader Yunho?

 

He never stammered before. At least, not when Jaejoong was present. During the few times he would hear him speak, and never to tell his brainless, sheep like friends to off with their “teasing.” He had remained silent, staying back with his dead eyes, watching everything transpire, acting like Jaejoong didn’t exist and laughing when one of his worthless friends told what he thought was a “joke.”

 

It wasn’t. It never was.

 

“I…” Yunho frowned, looking more confused as the seconds passed. When he looked up from reading whatever he found on the cement ground, his eyes were glassy.

 

“What the is going on?” Jaejoong bluntly asked. He was bewildered, but now curious.

 

Looking around, hoping a tall, handsome guy would pop out of thin air, wearing black slacks, black t-shirt, black loafers, and a…

 

A.aime!

 

There was a deafening pause.

 

A moment of silence that held so much meaning.

 

Time stopped. Jaejoong gasped out loud. His eyes widened so far, it hurt.

 

Yunho ducked his head, looking ashamed.

 

His eyes traveled up from Yunho’s large feet to his long, muscular legs that were under well fitted slacks, to his strong torso, over his large chest to land on his face. And he did it again. And again. And again. Each time, his eyes widened a bit more. They hurt. 

 

A headache that felt like a baby migraine started behind his right eye. The eye hurt and it started to hurt. A thumping started at his temple. His whole body hurt, especially his chest, and it made it hard to breathe.

 

He needed to breathe.

 

He started to hyperventilate again.

 

Italicized words swarmed his head: “Look for a guy wearing all black: black loafers, black slacks, and a black t-shirt.”

 

He felt all the blood in his body travel to his head and clogged his ear canal, and all the air left his lungs, leaving his head spinning. Disappointment he did not imagine slammed into him, weakening his knees and knocking his nerves down.

 

His heart stopped beating for longer than it usually should. 

 

Jaejoong swore that in that moment he passed out. If that was a lie, he was definitely certain he became light headed and wavered on his feet for a moment before he caught his balance by pressing a clammy palm on the wall.

 

“A-A --?” He couldn’t say it. If he said it, it would become a reality and he did not want it to happen. “No,” he choked softly. It sounded like a baby’s whimper. Jaejoong felt his eyes grow hot.

 

“All…” He stopped, his throat clogging with turmoil. 

 

It was a prank. It was too good to be true. All the same, disappointment flooded him. It came so sudden, it left him with no air in his gut.

 

They had waited for a year before they decided to finally meet, and he was being told that the sweet boy he had spent countless nights talking to, telling his deep, darkest secrets to, his purest, most vulnerable wishes to was none other than Jung Yunho! No! He wanted to scream.

 

“It can’t be.” After he said it he realized he had vocalized his thoughts.

 

Jaejoong stood there dumbly, watching as Yunho’s full lips parted and emotions infiltrated his face, his words ringing in his ears like the wash of distant waves. “No, listen. It’s not like that.” Yunho tried to plead, erasing the distance between them. He reached for Jaejoong’s arm, or something, because Jaejoong jumped back as if he had been electrocuted.

 

“Don’t touch me!” he snapped, venon falling off his tongue.

 

Yunho looked hurt. “Listen, I was, am surprised, too. I didn’t know.”

 

“No.” He shook his head. He’d rather be delusional. “No.” He whined. He was now completely demoralized. His eyes watered.

 

“I...I am so sorry. I...I really...I...I have been here for almost thirty minutes thinking about what I should do, and...I am just so sorry.” His voice was low and soft.

 

He wanted to tell him where he could shove his apology and his attempt at rationalizing this ed up situation, however, all he could manage to croak out was a pitiful question: “You’ve known all along?”

 

“No!” He shook his head, face open and earnest. He dropped his head again. “Just...I am so sorry."

 

He felt so insignificant. He felt his will to stand leaving his body. He wanted to give in to gravity and simply fall to the ground and be dragged to the earth's core and be exterminated. He wanted to disappear. He had never been this mortified in his life.

 

"I didn't know! I promise. I...You fit the description.”.

 

A sweet and simple explanation.

 

His heart and hopes for the future shattered.

 

“ you. . You!” Jaejoong managed to choke around the ball of emotions stuck in his throat.

 

This was not fair. Why him?

 

Why was it always him?

 

Why couldn’t he have any ing luck! Did he not deserve happiness? Why did finding romantic interests come so easily and naturally to everyone but him? Was he cursed? Was this karma?

 

What has he ever done to anyone.

 

He inhaled back a sob.

 

“This is a cruel, twisted joke.”

 

Yunho shook his head, his hair moving off his forehead with each movement. “No. It...I didn’t know. I would never...I—”

 

He had heard enough. “It doesn't matter.” He was defeated. “Not anymore,” he added in a softer voice, walking past Yunho, the fragrance of his refreshing soap flooded Jaejoong’s nose. It was like he was right back in high school.

 

He was shell shocked and just felt completely lost. Defeated. 

 

A.aime was…

 

No.

 

Sweet, gentle, open-minded, humorous, intelligent A.aime who filled his inbox with intelligently written dialogue and tastefully chosen quirky, nerdy, geeky jokes, memes and gifs was Jung Yunho, the jock that made the past four years of his life a living hell?

 

Biting the inside of his lip did not stop his eyes from stinging nor the watergates from starting to creak open.

 

What has he done to deserve such karma?

 

A few steps away from Yunho he decided a graceful retreat was out of the question. He started running.

 

Questions filled with blame cascaded through his head: why did he not see the signs? Had he really thought he was starting to like this guy? This was too good to be true, because it was fake, why did he not see the signs?

 

Once again, Jung Yunho had won and he had taken a moment that was supposed to be electrifying, beautiful, and happy, and turned it into nothing but a nightmare. Something Jaejoong never wanted to remember.

 

In his car, the first thing he did once he locked the doors was get on his phone and deleted A.aime from his contact.

 

He wanted no traces of him. 

 

He would never live this down.

 

Then he cried.

 

Cried for what he thought was going to be his grand love. And cried for how stupidly hopeful he had been. And cried for how happy he had been for the past few months. 

 

He had felt as if he belonged and was carving his own little place in this world and on campus.

 

He would forever be a victim.

 

The bullied.