| Fan Fiction |
by howlspet
And Jaejoong, folding his legs underneath him, sat down alongside Yunho and smiled. “I’ll sit here too.”
“On the floor,” Yunho asked, laughing somewhat.
“Yes,” Jaejoong declared. “With you.”
And then, the small hand reached out to his brother’s, as Jaejoong took Yunho’s hand in his, holding his brother’s hand close to himself.
* * *
Perhaps one might never consider it, not really, that there are so many different ways to hold another person’s hand. Most likely it is not even thought of; of course there are different ways to hold someone’s hand just as there are different ways to laugh and different ways to smile. However, one might be given to notice all the different ways, to consider them, if someone near took your hand the same way every time. For such as it was with Jaejoong.
As Yunho felt his hand cradled between both hands of his brother, as he turned to see Jaejoong hold his hand as he had done countless times before, the young man noticed now, now as he felt the pang of the two small hands, hands that would remain delicate and frail in all the years to come, hold onto his so tightly-Yunho felt the twinge in a heart’s chord with a certain amount of relief. Because it was the same. It was what he had always known. Jaejoong held his hand now as he had years ago; and would, no doubt, continue to hold in the years to come.
There are experts who might point out that repetition is very important to a child. That for a child there is a great need for things to remain the same. Routine. What goes on in their small world ought to pass in the same pattern as many times as possible, for as long as possible. Already their small world is magnified beyond what an adult sees. A child does not see a lawn of grass before them, but a jungle. He does not see butterflies, but birds. Trees are giants; the wind is a calling voice. And when all so is so big and so new, when the world before them stretches on and on, there is much need for a staying power. To wake up with their favorite blanket every morning, to always have milk with breakfast and orange juice at dinner.
And the experts will tout that until the child grows out of this “need,” the all-wise, knowing adults must put up with these routines. Until the child can see that not all needs to remain the same, that comfort does not rely on what is familiar-only then will they be able to really understand.
But it is not true. To have one thing that is ever the same, to be able to look in one place and know-trust that what you look to will always be there-this is comfort. And an adult needs it as much as the child. The adult, with his world of constant change, needs one place where he may rest weary eyes. And now, as Yunho sat alongside Jaejoong on the floor, his hand in his brother’s-it was true. As much as Jaejoong needed to hold Yunho’s hand, Yunho needed Jaejoong to hold his hand. And yes, in the exact same way as before. As all the years before. For Jaejoong, with a dazzling world before him, his brother’s hand was necessary to him; while for Yunho, his thoughts often gray and the mire he moved in dank as well, Jaejoong’s hand reminded him why he continued on as he did.
At that moment, had anyone walked in to the apartment and seen the two brothers, side by side, the on-looker would have seen an oddly touching sight. A child in whose face there was only ever dawn. Eyes studded by a morning star. A beauty unreal, unseen before in the eyes of men. This child, beloved by the dawn, bowed his head now. Clasped between both his hands, slender and white, was something so dear to him, so precious, it belonged as close to his heart as he could. One might even say that this child believed the hand he held was part of his heart-part of himself.
Should the on-looker manage to tear his gaze away from the beautiful child, they would see next to him what at first seemed a shadow, so dim did the figure appear in the glow of the youth. Yet looking longer, the figure appeared to be a man. Appeared to be, for what once, no doubt, had been a formidable figure-strong and powerful, looked faded now. A fatigue emanated from within him, from battles fought and withstood on the grounds of the heart and soul. And though the battles fought were won, the wounds had borne in deep; the scars were thick, leaving the man torn and tattered. Yet, in the hollowness draining into him, where the man’s hand was clasped tightly by his brother, a glow emanated. A healing warmth filling the gashes, healing what had been torn. Giving the man strength to stand and walk into his storms, to walk and not and be beaten down. For a hand clung to him, needed him. A life depended upon his own.
“Yunho?”
“Yea, Jae?”
The dark eyes turned to look at Yunho, “Did I help?”
Did you help? Me? Yes, Jaejoong you helped me. Today. Every day. I could never really explain it to you. That there are days I can’t hardly get up out of bed. Because I can’t feel anything. Nothing. Everything inside of me is gone. And it would be so easy to not move, to just lay there and wait-wait until I don’t care that I can’t feel.
But my soul-Jae. My soul. He attached you to my soul. Into part of me that is not attached to my body; the part of me I can always feel. The part of me that pulls my body up every morning, because I know He put you there, linked you to me. Yes, because you’re my brother. And because I love you. But-but because your life is mine-mine to protect, to keep. But not because it’s mine to have, but because I live for you.
I know. It never makes sense. And I sound like a fool. Did you help me? Yes, Jae. You helped me.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yunho looked over to Jaejoong, to the deep eyes that waited, very wide. Steadying his voice, Yunho replied, “Yea Jae. You helped me. I feel better.”
“A lot better,” Jaejoong asked, wiggling in excitement.
“Yea Jae,” Yunho answered, smiling. “In fact, I think I feel so much better,” he continued, his smiling growing very big, “That I might just have to. . .Dance!”
And with that, Yunho scrambled to his feet with a wild hoot, flailing his arms around, his legs kicking up in all directions. Jaejoong squealed in sheer delight, clapping his hands and clambering up to his feet as well, turning round and round, calling out over and over-Dance! Dance! Dance! And for several minutes, the house rocked with Yunho’s silly cries and Jaejoong’s laughter like music.
* * *
At length, when the giddy interlude passed, Yunho had Jaejoong sit down at the kitchen table with a glass of water while he began to get breakfast ready. Dutifully, Jaejoong drank the contents in the cup, beginning to talk in-between sips, about what this day promised. Jaejoong, sometimes chided gently by Yunho to drink slower, talked excitedly of the family reunion. He talked about the car ride there, asking Yunho if it would take long. He talked about seeing the house again, asking if everything would be the same. Jaejoong asked about who was to be there, if Ana would be there and if she would remember him. All these things Jaejoong asked and one would never have thought that there was a time when that house was more of place of nightmares than a home full of wonderful memories.
Half-listening, Yunho answered questions. No, the car ride would not take long. No, things at Aunt Yee’s house might not be the same. Yes, Ana would be there; yes she would remember him. And though he answered all of his brother’s questions as if there was nothing to worry about, as if all would be just fine-Yunho himself wondered. He wondered just what might be their reception at the house. What the family members might say, how they might act.
Years ago, on the last day of court, when the verdict came down that Yunho was to be the sole caretaker of Jaejoong, the sole guardian and that he was to have all rights equaling parental rights-out of the many promises Yunho had already made to himself, there was one more. He remembered how distinct he had sworn it to himself that day, walking away from the court, Jaejoong so weak Yunho had his arm around him to help him into the car. His brother’s frail form in his arms, Yunho swore to himself that they, his family, had done this to Jaejoong, left him to deteriorate to this state where his clothes barely clung to him, where Yunho could feel his brother’s ribcage through his shirt. They were the ones, never stepping in, never stopping to really look and see what Yee had done. The family had left Yunho to fend for himself, made him do what no one his age should ever have to do. And when he fought for custody they had the audacity then to want to help. Fools! As if he would let them then, when they had done nothing before. Family or not, they had no right to Jaejoong. And Yunho swore that he would never let his brother near them.
However, that was just it. After the crises, though the family had believed that the Jung brothers were in capable hands, as Yee struggled so hard to make it seem, afterwards, they did come forward. Realizing, seeing, young Yunho standing up against a room full or jurors pleading for his brother-the family came forward then, wanting to help-offering all to Yunho that he needed before. But a promise was a promise. Yunho shunned their calls. Cards he threw away. In every way he could, he broke off all ties with the family to the point that Jaejoong believed Yoochun and Junsu to be more his family than the few unfamiliar names he heard every so often. And not once, during this time, did Yunho question his judgment.
Until now. Years later. Now he was faced to see them all again. Now when he had turned his back to them with such pride, such self-righteousness. Suddenly, Yunho was to see them again and it worried him. Not for himself, really, but for Jaejoong. Yunho worried about Jaejoong seeing his elder brother treated ill. Yunho worried that Jaejoong, himself, might receive the brunt of their resentment. And for two days there would be no way to escape. No matter how they were treated, Yunho would have to stand and bear it and shield Jaejoong from it as much as possible.
Setting down breakfast before Jaejoong, Yunho did not think once that the years had been so unkind as he was determined to make them. Sitting down across from Jaejoong, the young man would never have perceived that though his treatment hurt many, there was little malice in hearts. No. Yunho braced himself for a storm.
When breakfast was done, Yunho told Jaejoong to go upstairs and change clothes and brush his teeth, while Yunho packed a bag for him. With a nod, Jaejoong bounded off from his chair and ran up the stairs; Yunho put away the dishes and came up moments later. Rummaging through a hallway closet, the young man pulled out Jaejoong’s duffel bag. A purple bag with Jaejoong’s name embroidered on the side, Yunho unzipped it, seeking to dig out anything that he may have overlooked since the last time Duffy had been called into action. Duffy was the name Jaejoong had given to the bag the day Yunho informed him it was called a duffel bag. Some rummaging resulted in six band-aids, a hair brush, a few crayons and a zip-locked bag of dried bananas well past their prime. Discarding these, the young man packed two shirts, two pairs of pants, three pairs of briefs, and four pairs of socks. A toothbrush and its special container along with toothpaste. A hair brush. The electronic shaver Jaejoong seldom used, and never without Yunho’s help. The only thing Yunho did not pack was Jaejoong’s pajamas, for that was always Jaejoong’s favorite thing to pick-what pair of pajamas he would wear each night.
“Jae,” Yunho called, “What pajamas do you wanna bring?”
Bouncing through the bathroom door, one pant leg pushed oddly up to his knee and a sock on his hand, Jaejoong appeared. “I can pick,” he asked.
“Yea. Pick which ones you wanna bring,” Yunho answered, coming over and taking the sock off Jaejoong’s hand, and bending down to pull down the pant leg.
Opening his dresser drawer, Jaejoong stood for some time. Then, sticking his tongue out, he scooped up three pairs, dumping them into the duffel bag.
“These,” he said.
“Jae,” Yunho began, “I don’t think you need three pairs of pajamas. How about one?”
“I need the jammies,” came the reply.
“All three?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need three?”
“Yes.”
Standing there, Yunho smiled. This debate was one in a long line of debates about the things one could and could not do. Sometimes, Yunho thought he ought to write them down, just to remember the logic he used in getting Jaejoong to come along with him.
Perhaps one of his favorites had been the conversation about eating soup. Soup was not something Yunho generally made at home; previous attempts had convinced him soup was to be an “eating out food.” One evening, at a restaurant, Yunho ordered a bowl of soup for himself and it did not surprise him when Jaejoong declared he wanted the same thing, though on the entire ride to the restaurant Jaejoong had talked of nothing else than wanting to eat a grilled cheese sandwich. So, two bowls of soup were ordered and brought. And though Yunho often spent a portion of his meal watching Jaejoong eat, making sure that he did not eat too fast, or took too big of bites, or that he ate at all-in truth, Yunho did not think that Jaejoong would have any trouble with soup. Of course, though, Yunho took the bowl first and stirred it several times with his spoon to cool it down before handing it back to Jaejoong. But after that, the young man did not pay much attention. That is, until he heard Jaejoong slurping.
Looking up, Yunho saw that his brother had taken the straw out of his drink and used it now to suck up the soup. Given that the soup was a cream base and very thick, Jaejoong worked very hard to get the contents up the straw and into his mouth. Sucking with all his might, Jaejoong’s cheeks were hollowed in to such a degree that they all but seemed to disappear. At first, Yunho sat and watched, somewhat amazed.
“Jae, what are you doing?”
“Eating,” Jaejoong answered, not relinquishing the straw from his mouth.
“Jae,” Yunho began, as simply as he could. “Spoons are for soup. Not straws.”
The dark eyes looked up, “Spoons are for ice cream.”
“Yes, spoons are for ice cream-and soup.”
“Oh.” Jaejoong said thoughtfully, taking the straw, now sucked beyond further use, out of the bowl. “Okay. Okay-okay!”
Granted the current debate of the jammies was on a lesser scale than the Spoon Talk-but it might easily claim a place.
Wondering if this might be one of those times Yunho simply let Jaejoong have his way, the young man began to reply.
“Jae, I think three pairs of pajamas make Duffy feel too full.” The dark eyes blinked, looking down at what really was a stuffed duffel bag. Yunho continued. “I think Duffy’ll feel better if he only has to carry one.”
“Cuz three is too much?”
“Yea Jae. Three is too much.”
Nodding, Jaejoong reached into the duffel bag and took out two pairs of his pajamas, putting them back in the dresser drawers.
Bags packed in the trunk of the car, not an hour more passed before Yunho and Jaejoong were on their way to the family reunion.
* * *
Inside the car was quiet. All that could be heard was the quiet hum of the engine as Yunho turned onto the expressway and the long gray road wound ahead. Neither brother spoke, each lost somewhat to his own thoughts. Jaejoong turned his head to the window counting the cars that passed him, his lips moving voicelessly. Yunho, his hands on the wheel, looked over every so often as was his habit whenever he and Jaejoong were in the car. But though the young man made sure his brother was comfortable, his own thoughts were far. Far from the slender form sitting next to him, watching shapes in the clouds. Far off the winding expressway. The young man stood outside of himself. Outside in a place where walls were high. High enough to block any chill winds. Tall enough to cast out the sun. Yunho stood where nothing might touch him. He stood where he might be touched by nothing.
Two hours passed quick enough and soon Yunho had turned off the expressway and onto local streets. Every house he passed was familiar; every street sign seemed as if he had only just seen them yesterday. Years it had been since he drove through this town. Years! And everything was exactly as Yunho remembered. Time had done nothing. All was terribly the same. And a creeping sensation churned inside of him, making his skin crawl.
What was he doing? Driving here. Coming to this house. A promise-he made a promise never to return here. Never! Every day. Every damn day he made the same promise that when he could get Jaejoong out of here there was nothing-nothing-that could bring him back. No! Turn back. No good can come from this.
Turn back!
“Yunho! There’s the house!”
Yunho looked to Jaejoong’s outstretched arm, pointing to a tall elegant looking house set on a wide lawn, trimmed with topiaries and lavish floral arrangements. Indeed, this was Aunt Yee’s house.
A mist passing over his eyes, Yunho turned the car into the driveway, his knuckles nearly white on the steering wheel. His car was one of the last in the long driveway as most of the family had arrived, their cars parked ahead. Parking, Yunho got out and came over to unbuckle Jaejoong’s seatbelt, his hand visibly shaking.
“Ready Jae,” he asked, dreadfully aware of the tremble in his voice.
“Yes,” answered Jaejoong. And though the gentle face was calm, the deep velvet eyes bright as they always were, as Jaejoong answered his elder brother he reached out, catching Yunho’s hand in his. “I’m ready, Yunho.”
Together, they made their way up an elegantly paved path to the front door. Yet before Yunho could raise his hand and knock, the door swung open. In the opening stood a young woman, no older than Yunho. No doubt she had seen them come up, been waiting for them to arrive. For a moment, she did not speak, her eyes wide and wet. Then, a broad smile bursting on her face, she threw her arms around Jaejoong, pulling him close.
“Hero!”
“Ana!” Jaejoong cried, pulling his hand out of Yunho’s. He nearly danced in her arms and buried his face in her shoulder, saying in a muffled voice. “Ana-Ana!”
She had not seen Yunho. And Jaejoong saw only her in his glee at seeing his cousin.
Behind them both, Yunho remained-seeing nothing at all. Not the excitement of his brother on seeing Ana, nor the joy in the young woman upon seeing the boy she had loved over the years. His hands clenched tight at his side, Yunho remained between the walls.