dbsk_flashfic | i'm a wretch but i love, love. (flashfic challenge 5: we didn't start the fire)

title i'm a wretch but i love, love.
author

sunfever.
word count 1400.
concrit hit me.
pairing jaejoong+everyone, band.
a/n pieces of au. four ways jaejoong never loved, one way he did. the title's a kerouac quote, the lyrics in part one are from modern swinger by the pink spiders. i feel like i should mention shay. so, hi shay! edit this fic is officially for shay.

punk rock

Jaejoong's hair this month has thick purple streaks. He'd said once that he changes it depending on the music he's making. Junsu doesn't pretend to get it, or get Jaejoong. Jaejoong-and-Junsu only exists onstage; when the lights go off, they're Jaejoong, Junsu, and neither of them ever really knows where to find the connector. But for the past two days Jaejoong's had strep throat, and he hasn't been returning Yunho's calls or letting Yoochun anywhere near him, so it's Junsu's turn.

Yoochun's moody after a weekend of having Jaejoong shut him out. He arms Junsu with a bowl of his watery but heartfelt attempt at chicken soup, and says, "Tell him I'm taking his guitar away if he doesn't start talking to me again tomorrow." Jaejoong-and-Yoochun exists like coffee stains that've been left in the carpet too long to wash out.

Jaejoong's bedroom door is shut with a clear message. Junsu opens it anyway. "Room service," he announces.

Jaejoong looks up on his unmade bed, sees who it is, and mouths: close the door.

The thing about Jaejoong and Junsu (not Jaejoong-and-Junsu, which starts and stops in front of a microphone) is, Jaejoong hates letting Yunho see him vulnerable, he's so used to being Yoochun's security blanket that he never lets Yoochun be his, and no one's finished yet with the transition from knowing Changmin as Changmin-our-new-bass-guitarist to just Changmin-the-kid-with-a-big-heart-lined-with-teeth.

Then there's Junsu, who Jaejoong always allows in. Junsu doesn't pretend to get this either.

He sits on the side of the mattress and puts the soup on the nightstand and just watches Jaejoong. Jaejoong, with his dark eyes and his fading fever and his million earrings and his decorated red guitar. Jaejoong, without his voice.

"Yoochun says if you don't start talking to him again tomorrow, he's taking your guitar away."

Jaejoong plays a series of chords, leads into a song. It's one of the few that Yoochun wrote just for him. He looks over at Junsu. Come on.

Some days Junsu wonders if Jaejoong hates him for taking his place, taking away his chances to sing; other days he thinks Jaejoong loves him because he can sing. The words are screaming catch me if you can with a cigarette in hand and it's love, and Junsu doesn't say anything when Jaejoong stops playing mid-chorus to reach over and press the pads of his calloused fingers to Junsu's throat, like he's trying to take the sound from it and hold it in his own fist. It's heavy and it hurts and it's love.

disneyland

Jaejoong says, after he steals Yoochun's Mickey Mouse ears, "Okay. Okay, I have a new goal in life."

It's a thousand degrees today, and Yoochun's learned he has to physically hold onto Jaejoong to keep from getting lost in all the people. He sucks on the straw of his iced lemonade, fingers sweaty around Jaejoong's wrist. "Yeah?"

"My new goal in life is to make out on every single Disneyland ride," Jaejoong announces.

Yoochun's never kissed Jaejoong before, never really thought about it, but he's not afraid to. He pulls Jaejoong towards the line for the haunted house, saying, "So let's get started."

birth control

Three months before they graduate, Jaejoong gets his girlfriend pregnant. Yunho knows because he gets a text message at 1:27am on a school night saying call me. Two and a half minutes later, help me.

The week right before, Yunho spends class watching the empty desk diagonal from him, and the open window next to it like he's waiting for Jaejoong to run across the courtyard outside with his hair wind-blown and his uniform smelling like spices and pool halls, and ask Yunho to play hooky with him.

The idea was always that after high school, Jaejoong would buy a ticket to somewhere - New York, Amsterdam. Jaejoong would walk out and leave casualties behind him. So Yunho, he doesn't understand why now, when there are still three months left, but he won't let himself feel hurt. It's easier to pay attention when Jaejoong isn't around, anyway. There aren't any notes passed in origami; there isn't any dress code inappropriate jewelry glittering in the cold classroom light. At the end of the week, the only thing Yunho's learned is how to fold paper cranes.

Over the phone, Jaejoong tells him, "She was one month in." His voice is far away. Typical Jaejoong, Yunho thinks, a spark of anger, short-lived. So fucking out of reach.

He knows Jaejoong's girlfriend. She's tall and pretty, has long legs and a smart mouth, has big plans and traditional parents. Yunho wastes cellphone minutes listening to Jaejoong talk while he drives an hour to find where he is.

It's three in the morning and Jaejoong's standing alongside the Han River. Yunho waits for him in the car with the radio on, and knows what Jaejoong's thinking about as he screams his lungs dry at the water. Flat stomachs and something that could've had his eyes.

Jaejoong still isn't at school tomorrow. Yunho wonders if it'll be another week before he gets a new text message. A phone call, postcard, midnight visit. Jaejoong never does what you tell him to, so Yunho writes don't turn back on a sheet of paper ripped from his notebook. He folds it into a paper airplane, and lets it fly out the classroom window.

payola

"This isn't exactly playing by the rules," says Changmin.

"Can you help me or not?" says Jaejoong.

Jaejoong has this look in his eyes like he's been stuck in one place for too long. It's like hitchhikers or stray cats, like another someone doing anything to make it big. Changmin met him just fifteen minutes ago, when Jaejoong walked into his apartment with a demo CD and a manila envelope of cash. He has the prettiest eyes Changmin can remember seeing on a guy.

"Where'd you get the money?" Changmin asks.

Jaejoong shrugs and won't elaborate. "Is it enough?"

It's not enough, and Changmin wouldn't have taken it anyway. He likes DJing too much to risk getting fired; he likes Jaejoong's music too much to ruin it through bribery.

The lack of response must be making Jaejoong worry, because he pushes the envelope forward on the coffee table. "You don't need to explicitly advertise, just play the song a few times, mention my name, anything."

Changmin pushes it back, and watches Jaejoong's eyes cycle through hope and exhaustion and want, then finish by shutting off. Jaejoong takes the envelope and stands up, fisting his paper dreams in his hands, but when he starts to reach for his CD, Changmin gets to it first, turning the case over in his hand.

"I'll play your song three times a week," he says, before Jaejoong can open his mouth, "and you can treat me to a cup of coffee for each. We'll re-negotiate after a month."

Something in Jaejoong's eyes clicks open, awake. He sits back down and says, "I know this place that makes really good espresso shots."

kerouac

Driving back from the airport, the van's windows are fogged over and the air inside is thick from having the heater turned on too high. Jaejoong's in the backseat by himself, waking up. His arm's asleep, his hair's everywhere in his face, and he can't see in the dark. "Time?" he asks, husky and low, and tries to sit up.

"Ten minutes left," Yunho's voice answers. "Go back to sleep, Jaejoongah."

"It's cold," Jaejoong says.

Someone's laughing. A blanket flies over, hits the car ceiling, and lands next to him. Yoochun follows it back.

"Hey," he says, and pulls Jaejoong's feet up into his lap, his palms on Jaejoong's bare ankles. Yoochun knows the difference between feeling cold and skin-hungry. "Better?"

"Better," Jaejoong says. "Let's sing something."

"A whole new world," Junsu chimes in, sounding half-conscious. Yoochun throws the blanket at the back of Junsu's seat, but joins in anyway, deliberately off-key. Changmin's laughing again. Everyone forgets the lyrics, and Yunho has to lead them into another song before things can dissolve too much.

Jaejoong's finally adjusting to the dark, streetlights freckled over his skin and across his eyes. He turns to the window, where everything outside's been dyed white, and drags his fingertip through the fog to write welcome home.