dbsk_flashfic | that 3 AM sparkle (response to challenge 30: impossible things)

title: to see that 3 AM sparkle
author:

sunshineyes
word count: 1860
concrit?: yes, please
rating: PG
summary: changmin dies. then he wakes up.
notes: warnings for character death (sort of) and preslash. inspired by the Elvis & Anabelle trailer.

AN: i've got plans for this idea, so it'll get fleshed out properly eventually, i promise. big huge x's and o's for

onew who looked this over for me and helped nudge me in the right direction re: the ending and for being really awesome and lovely in general. ♥ for

mrsedjack, if she wants it!

There was a flash of light outside the window, and Shim Changmin opened his eyes to a clap of thunder echoing through the dark room. His head was pounding, mouth dry, and he pushed himself up until he was sitting and could better take in his surroundings. There was a young boy on the other side of the room, struggling to close the window.

"Who the hell are you," Changmin rasped. "Where am I? What's happened?" He took in a deep breath of air and began to cough. "What is that terrible smell?"

The boy started, and for a fraction of a moment, Changmin thought he might jump out of the window. The boy slowly turned. His face was very pale, dark eyes open wide with fear. "Y-you're supposed to be dead," he stuttered, clinging to the window frame behind him. There was a flashlight in his hand and the beam of light skittered around the room. "Are you a— a zombie?"

Changmin cleared his throat and climbed up onto his knees, the sheet that had been thoughtfully draped across his lower half falling away. He was completely naked, and there was some sort of tag tied to his toe. Changmin hastily grabbed the sheet and looped it around it around his waist again. "Obviously there has been some sort of a mistake," he said. "I'm not dead."

"You were," the boy insisted. He approached Changmin slowly. "Believe me, you were deader than dead not five minutes ago." He stopped next to the table Changmin was kneeling on and began to reach his hand up. Changmin flinched away and the boy's hand froze. His eyes grew wide again. "Oh, I— I'm sorry, I should've asked you first, I— may I check your pulse?"

Changmin nodded. The boy's fingers were warm against his throat.

"Well, that does seem healthy," the boy said, removing his hand. "You're really not dead anymore."

"Should have gone without saying," Changmin said, and removed the tag from his toe. It was filled out with his name, gender and age, but the other lines were left blank. He began to snicker. "Your first thought when you saw me was whether or not I was a zombie?"

The boy frowned and turned off his flashlight. "It's a perfectly reasonable theory," he said. "Up until five minutes ago, you were doctor-certified dead. Then you're sitting up and making noises, and— and— what else was I supposed to think, babysitting a bunch of corpses all night!" He smacked Changmin's arm. "You stop laughing at me, right now!"

Changmin sat back on his heels and only managed to laugh harder. Tears leaked from his eyes. The boy's frown deepened, and Changmin took a deep, sobering breath. "Sorry," he said. "I'm Changmin." He held out the hand that wasn't holding the sheet up around his waist.

"I know." The boy took the hand, after a moment, shook it. "I'm Jaejoong," he replied. "And for the record, your hand is freezing."

"We should probably change that," said Changmin. "Clothes, maybe? Something to eat? I'm starving! I haven't had anything to eat since— hey, when did I die?"

"Four days ago," said Jaejoong, looking a bit dazed. "Yeah, food. We have food."

Trying to keep from smiling, Changmin whispered, "You can let go of my hand now, you know."

Jaejoong released his hold as if he'd received an electric shock. "Oh," he said. "Right— I, um, might have something that will fit you, if you'll just— follow me." He shook his head, muttering something under his breath that Changmin couldn't catch, and mussed up his hair at the back as he led the way out of the room.

Changmin wrapped the sheet a bit tighter around himself and followed. As he crossed the threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder. A mortuary, he realized, and began to feel ill. "Were you going to embalm me?" he demanded, grabbing the back of Jaejoong's shirt and tugging him to a halt.

Looking down at his feet and playing with the battery cap on the flashlight, Jaejoong said, "In the morning. My uncle was, I— I don't actually work here. There was some sort of accident, and he had to go, so he asked me to look after the place." His tone was undeniably apologetic, and when he looked up, eyes wide and imploring, Changmin felt as if he'd punted a puppy across the room.

"Oh," Changmin said. "What were you doing in there, then?"

Jaejoong began to look sheepish. "I've been watching these classic horror movies all night, but I wasn't getting scared or anything," he explained. "I thought being around a bunch of corpses might freak me out properly."

"Did I freak you out?" Changmin asked curiously.

"When you decided to sit up and start talking to me?" Jaejoong laughed. "Yes, Changmin, you are freaking me out." He continued walking, and Changmin fell into step next to him. The silence was surprisingly comfortable, companionable. Jaejoong showed Changmin to a living room and sat him down on the couch. He returned a few minutes later with a bag of potato chips, boxers, and a t-shirt gathered in his arms and handed them all over to Changmin.

"I could," he began hesitantly as Changmin examined the potato chip bag, "I could order a pizza, maybe."

Deeming the flavor acceptable, Changmin ripped the bag open and shoved a handful of the chips into his mouth. "Pizza's good," he tried to say around his mouthful of food, but it came out sounded like 'pieces gut', so he chewed and swallowed as best he could. He cleared his throat. "Pizza sounds good," he said.

Jaejoong looked amused. "Okay," he said. "I'll be right back."

While Jaejoong was gone, Changmin changed into the clothes; the shirt was long, and the boxers were a bit baggy, but he felt a lot more comfortable than lounging in a funeral home in nothing but a sheet. He also polished off three-quarters of the potato chips.

"You work fast," Jaejoong remarked, sitting at the other end of the couch and hugging a cushion to his chest. "Healthy appetite. Interesting dietary choice for a zombie, though."

"If that pizza doesn't get here soon," Changmin replied in between the time it took to suck each of his fingers clean, "I will eat your brains." Their eyes met, and Changmin smiled brightly. Jaejoong's cheeks turned a bit pink, but he returned the smile.

After two large pizzas and two classic horror movies (Psycho and Les Diaboliques, respectively), Changmin pulled his legs up to his chest and said, "So, resurrection. How often do you think that happens?"

Jaejoong shook his head. "I have no idea. Before today, I thought it was impossible." He stuck his toes between the couch cushions. "Do you want to call your family? They should know— and you should probably go to the hospital, and make sure everything's, you know. Okay. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Changmin said in a very small voice, closing his eyes as Jaejoong swore softly. "Can I go outside?" he asked. "I need air." He stood and walked away without getting any permission and searched for a door that would lead him out into the night. Jaejoong followed and gently touched his elbow, taking him in the right direction.

The thunder and lightning from earlier had turned into a fully fledged storm; Changmin stepped out of the funeral home and was soaked to the skin within seconds. He tilted his face up toward the rain to disguise the tears slipping from his eyes, and felt the wind trying to push him over. He turned back toward Jaejoong and shouted over all the noise, "I don't want to see a doctor."

"But—"

Changmin shook his head. He hoped that Jaejoong would account the tremble in his body for shivers. "No doctors. The impossible doesn't need to be explained all the time."

Jaejoong joined him. "Okay," he said.

"Let's believe in the impossible," Changmin said. "In the improbable. In miracles. I died four days ago, but I've been brought back, and I don't know why." Jaejoong opened his mouth to speak, but Changmin went on, "For tonight, for right now, I don't want to know. Someday, I'll go looking for answers, but I'm only seventeen—"

"And it's time to live your life," Jaejoong finished softly. He looked Changmin in the eye. "Do you want to go home?"

Changmin wanted to flinch away from such direct eye contact— there was no way Jaejoong wouldn't be able to tell that he was crying—but he kept himself steady. After a moment, he shook his head again. "I went to bed four days ago and woke up on a slab," he said. "They would need to understand, and I'm not ready for that yet."

"Okay," Jaejoong repeated. Hesitantly, he reached out and swiped the wet from Changmin's cheeks with his thumbs. "I won't do anything until you're ready for it," he said, and he kept his hands on the sides of Changmin's face. His palms were warm, but his fingertips were cool. "So if you need a place to stay, I have a futon in my living room that potentially has your name all over it." His hands slipped away, and for a moment, Changmin almost mourned the loss. Jaejoong shifted back half a foot, hands sliding into his jeans pockets. "If you want it," he added. "I'm not expecting anything. Just— if you need a place to stay until you know what you want to do, it's there for you. Nobody else is using it."

Changmin nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak yet.

"Let's get out of this rain, huh?" Jaejoong suggested, sliding an arm around Changmin's shoulders and drawing him back toward the shelter and warmth the house provided.

And as they sat together, redressed in drier clothes and huddled beneath the same blanket on that living room couch, Changmin closed his eyes and felt the air move in and out of his lungs. He could smell the rain outside, even though the storm was rolling away as quickly as it had arrived. He could feel the warmth of Jaejoong's body, pressed up against his side, hear each breath Jaejoong inhaled.

Little by little, Changmin's stunned silence began to melt away. Stunned by the generosity, the absolute willingness to help out someone he had just met (and had been dead for the past four days), without asking for anything in return. Changmin opened his eyes and nudged Jaejoong's arm with his elbow. Jaejoong nudged back, his response delayed as each breath was deeper and slower. The walls around them turned a brilliant gold color as the sun rose, and Changmin carefully fitted his fingers between Jaejoong's. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" Jaejoong asked sleepily, head resting on Changmin's shoulder. He yawned, and his breath stirred the hair by Changmin's ear.

"Everything," Changmin answered. "Thank you for everything."

"I take it that means you're moving in with me, then?"

Changmin rested his head on top of Jaejoong's and closed his eyes again. "Yes," he sighed, tugging the blanket more around their shoulders. "I suppose I am."