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dbsk_flashfictitle we'll take the whole shebang.
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sunfever.
word count 331.
concrit hit me.
pairing yoochun/jaejoong.
a/n dumb little thing.
The morning after, Yoochun wakes up first. He goes into the kitchen, makes peppermint tea, takes his mug out onto the balcony and chain-smokes. Jaejoong finds him half an hour later, painted in muted and open colors. His hair's a mess. He's in sweats and one of Yoochun's shirts. Yoochun watches the pale slice of skin just under Jaejoong's hip as he stretches, and knows what it tastes like now.
Jaejoong says good morning and they watch the city wake. He says, "we should break up."
"Yeah?" Yoochun asks. It's been twelve hours.
"Yeah. It's not going to work out." Jaejoong steals a new cigarette and lights it off of Yoochun's, their mouths coming close. Yoochun drags on his own, long and hot and poisonous. His heart's beating faster; it's just the nicotine.
"We're open books to each other," Jaejoong says. His arm's curled around Yoochun's waist, the flat of his thumb drawing circles. "We're good together but we've always been good together, right? The only thing different will be the kissing and the fucking. There's no mystery and it'll scare us. You'll rediscover all your closet insecurities, I'll feel caged up. If I wanted to hurt you, it'd be so easy. I wouldn't be trying to, it'd just be so easy, you know? And you can do it better. You could say how it's not that anyone's in love with me, it's just that I'm safe. If we fight, we'll always make up again because we're both shit at letting go."
Yoochun throws his dying cigarette over the balcony. They're too high up and he can't see where it falls. Jaejoong plays with Yoochun's mug. There's a hickey on his stomach, hidden by his shirt. Last night he'd told secrets to every letter of Yoochun's tattoo. The thing is, Jaejoong never actually does what he should. Yoochun turns his face from the city and kisses Jaejoong on the mouth. "Whatever."
author
sunfever.word count 331.
concrit hit me.
pairing yoochun/jaejoong.
a/n dumb little thing.
The morning after, Yoochun wakes up first. He goes into the kitchen, makes peppermint tea, takes his mug out onto the balcony and chain-smokes. Jaejoong finds him half an hour later, painted in muted and open colors. His hair's a mess. He's in sweats and one of Yoochun's shirts. Yoochun watches the pale slice of skin just under Jaejoong's hip as he stretches, and knows what it tastes like now.
Jaejoong says good morning and they watch the city wake. He says, "we should break up."
"Yeah?" Yoochun asks. It's been twelve hours.
"Yeah. It's not going to work out." Jaejoong steals a new cigarette and lights it off of Yoochun's, their mouths coming close. Yoochun drags on his own, long and hot and poisonous. His heart's beating faster; it's just the nicotine.
"We're open books to each other," Jaejoong says. His arm's curled around Yoochun's waist, the flat of his thumb drawing circles. "We're good together but we've always been good together, right? The only thing different will be the kissing and the fucking. There's no mystery and it'll scare us. You'll rediscover all your closet insecurities, I'll feel caged up. If I wanted to hurt you, it'd be so easy. I wouldn't be trying to, it'd just be so easy, you know? And you can do it better. You could say how it's not that anyone's in love with me, it's just that I'm safe. If we fight, we'll always make up again because we're both shit at letting go."
Yoochun throws his dying cigarette over the balcony. They're too high up and he can't see where it falls. Jaejoong plays with Yoochun's mug. There's a hickey on his stomach, hidden by his shirt. Last night he'd told secrets to every letter of Yoochun's tattoo. The thing is, Jaejoong never actually does what he should. Yoochun turns his face from the city and kisses Jaejoong on the mouth. "Whatever."
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