Four drabbles for Yoochun. Happy birthday, baby.

4th June 2012

One – Blocks.
Soulmates. G.

A chubby-cheeked boy tottered over to his effeminate friend, sitting next to him noisily. The smaller boy merely glanced his way before returning his attention to the blocks in front of him, carefully stacking them up.

“Joongie, it’s my birthday today!” Yoochun announced loudly, holding his palms out. Jaejoong looked at his outstretched hands briefly and turned around again, ignoring the boy and effectively making him just a bit annoyed. Yoochun pouted, angry that Jaejoong was paying more attention to those stupid coloured blocks than to him.

Yoochun stood up and scowled at Jaejoong. Yoochun kicked at Jaejoong’s neatly stacked up blocks in a fit, storming away. Jaejoong stared at his fallen tower with large teary eyes, his bottom lip quivering. Whimpers escaped his throat and his shoulders shook, fists furiously swiping at his tears.

Yoochun gasped and ran back to Jaejoong as fast as his short legs could and fell on his knees beside him, wrapping his arms around his friend’s shoulders, trying to wipe away his tears with the sleeve of his sweater.

“I’m sorry, Joongie,” Yoochun pressed a small kiss onto Jaejoong’s cheek. Jaejoong gasped and whipped his head around to stare at Yoochun with teary eyes.

“You know, it is usually the birthday boy who gets the kiss,” Yoochun grinned cheekily. Jaejoong giggled and leant forward, kissing Yoochun.

And that is why Yoochun walked around with a stupid smile for the rest of the day.

Two – Shiver.
JunChun. R.

Yoochun shivered and wrapped his quilt tighter around his small frame. The dim light from his tiny television was the only light in the room. The man on the weather channel was reporting high winds and a seventy per-cent chance of a thunderstorm.

Yoochun squealed when a bright flash of light lit up the whole room and blinded him for a few seconds. Make that a hundred per-cent chance. Yoochun stumbled to his feet and shuffled over to his window while trying not to trip over his quilt.

Before he could even hold onto the handle, a huge gust of wind knocked him back, causing the man to fall on his back. He swore and blinked a few times to clear his vision. A blonde man with tight black clothing stood in front of him. Yoochun blinked a few more times to make sure that he was not hallucinating.

“The wind is strong tonight,” the man said in a willowy voice, turning to close the window. Yoochun nodded dumbly, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. “I am Junsu, angel of death.”

Upon seeing Yoochun’s panicked look, Junsu laughed loudly. “No, it is not your time yet. You turn twenty-seven at the of midnight, if I am not wrong. You have a healthy life ahead of you,” Junsu chuckled, beside Yoochun in two quick steps.

“Park Yoochun,” Junsu whispered, trailing along black fingernail down Yoochun’s cheek, cackling when Yoochun flinched away. “Such a beautiful, young boy. I cannot wait until I take your life,” Junsu smiled cynically, his hand swiftly clutching at Yoochun’s hip, nails digging into his skin and leaving marks.

“Or maybe I do not have to wait,” Junsu smirked, hand trailing into Yoochun’s loose pants, scratching his . Yoochun whimpered and held onto Junsu’s wrist, trying to stop the man from touching him. Junsu simply shook off the hand and pressed his lips on Yoochun’s jawline, trailing his tongue all the way up to his ear, gently blowing into Yoochun’s ear. Junsu leant forward so that Yoochun was trapped between him and the wall. Yoochun shuddered when he felt Junsu’s hot breath on his face.

Calloused hands trailed across his body, soft lips caressed his, and he experienced an indescribable pleasure. And he did not mind when he felt life slipping away from him with every kiss Junsu gave him.

Three – Bloom.
YooMin. G.

Yoochun was a person one would describe as a wallflower. He was, however, an awfully interesting man.

Like any other morning, he was taking a walk. Instead of following the cement pavement, he would make a sharp turn onto the grass and disappear in a thicket of trees. There was nothing special there to the normal person’s eye, but Yoochun was different. He would weave in between the trees as if there were an invisible path only he could see.

Yoochun would stop at a small white flower and stare at it for a moment, before making a turn and heading back home, weaving back through the trees again. Today, Yoochun stopped right before the first tree and frowned. He cautiously weaved through them and spotted the flower, with a boy kneeling down beside it, sprinkling water and fertiliser on the soil.

Yoochun sharply turned around and walked home.

 Yoochun was weaving through the trees again when he saw the same boy crouching beside the flower. Yoochun watched him for a while and returned home.

Yoochun was walking faster than usual. When he got there, there was no boy. Yoochun walked in front of the flower and sat on the grass growing around it. Yoochun arranged pebbles and small stones in a circle around the flower, standing up after and brushing the soil and grass off his pants. He left.

When Yoochun got there the next day, the boy was there. He went and sat beside the flower, taking no heed of the questioning glances. Yoochun found dried leaves and carefully crushed them, arranging them in a heart shape near the flower. The boy smiled and shifted closer so that their legs bumped with each other.

His smile was nice, Yoochun noted. He watched as the boy dug a hole on the far right on the flower, taking out the object and dusting the soil off it. The boy placed the object in front of Yoochun and stood up, disappearing in the trees.

It was a heart shaped stone. Yoochun smiled and pocketed the object, walked back home, wondering why his heart was beating faster than usual.

It was his birthday the next day. Yoochun nearly ran to the spot where the flower was, to find an empty spot where the flower used to be. He simply walked over and placed the heart in the circle of stones and left.

Yoochun never went back.

Four – Haunting.
2U. G.

Yoochun was a musician. Yunho was a dancer. Yoochun would let his fingers dance across the grand piano in the dance room while Yunho moved his body to whatever tune Yoochun was playing.

Yoochun would occasionally play sad, haunting melodies and Yunho was worried. He was scared that Yoochun was getting depressed. He wanted to help the beautiful pianist. Yunho placed a rose on the piano before Yoochun walked in the next day. Yoochun played a quick tune that jerked and jumped at the most curious of moments.

Yunho would then place a single rose on the piano every day before Yoochun came in. The tunes got sharper and brighter.

Yunho did not really feel like dancing anymore. He was content with listening to the music. He stopped leaving roses and Yoochun’s pieces returned to the slow, sad songs. Yunho would sit next to Yoochun and Yoochun would let him. The pieces got more beautiful.

Yunho kissed Yoochun in the middle of playing. The next day, Yoochun played a soft piece that made Yunho want to cry.

Yunho, one day, told Yoochun that he was not going to be dancing anymore. Yoochun’s playing quickened and Yunho frowned. He grabbed his bag and left. Yoochun sighed and stilled his hands, conjuring the image of Yunho moving fluidly across the room and his fingers moved to play the same soft piece that made Yunho cry.