Save our souls, NC-17, 1217 words, jaesu [main focus], angst.
I’ll fix us, joongie, I’ll fix us. Do I disgust you, now, Junsu, do I?
His arms are wrapped around your waist, kissing you languidly, preventing you from escaping and he is teasing you remorselessly, no shame evident in those fiery brown eyes, defiance and anger smoldering threatening to rip you apart with the very hotness of waves, flowing like molten lava, burning your skin, your lips, your scalp with unhurried teasing and touching.
All the time he whispers mockingly in your ears, watching your face carefully, waiting for you to slip up, say something unexpected and the same time, he behaves like a contradiction, fingers wound tight in your scalp, desperate and frantic with the pressure, determined to make you see, make you feel, make you love the way he wants you to love him back.
Emotion has been forced out of your system a long time back and now the thrill, the racing excitement, that pulsating beat of his wrapped under your skin has vanished and dulled down to a slow, gentle, hissing purr needing a lot of petting to be fully stoked once again, so you can love and kiss back with equal fervor, equal passion and it all makes you sick to the core.
Your eyes have blanked out and his mouth is working on making you cry out, a hot, wet tongue roves all over your body, your neck, your chest and suddenly your pants are forced down your knees and then his mouth is sucking you fiercely, fingers digging hard in your hips, focused on that sensitive flesh, focused on making you weak and then you know you’ve lost this battle, this struggle to him, you’ve lost yourself, all is lost but-
-a calm soothing voice from the past, so gentle and calm, is talking to you, you’re not a bad child, junsu, not a bad child ever, but you need to stop, stop, stop now, stop if you love him, stop if it will kill you, stop because this is not who you are, who he is, who you both are meant to be-
-tears run down your cheeks, free and happy and suddenly your fingers tangle gently in his hair. His face looks up at you with childish hope and your heart aches for him, for you, for the tears you are going to be the cause of but she is right, has always been right, even now she will not fail you with her words of wisdom-
-it will be the hardest ordeal that you will have to undergo but you remind yourself of all the years cloaked in suffering, insecurity, childhood spent amidst jeering catcalls of weakweakweak, orphan, weakweakweak, fag, weakweakweak and you realize with a detached wonder how you’ve held back the tears whenever you're alone, only letting them flow freely in front of him but then you realize that-
-you don’t need him to wipe your tears away.
You gently force him up, to stop him from shaming himself, shaking your head at the disrespect you have just shown him all this time. The man-no-boy is only a few years older than you and truly the two of you have endured so many trials and sufferings together.
Now you need to take care of him, need to do what’s best for him, for you, for whatever remains of this detoriated, fragile relationship is ruined beyond hope now.
I’m tired, you whisper softly, I need to sleep now, got class tomorrow at nine.
His eyes widen and you turn away, filled with new resolve, determination and strength. Your mind whirring with plans, you walk into the washroom, ignoring the stunned silence, the cries for come back, junsu, come back, don’t leave me like this, the desperate pounding on the bathroom door, the inevitable sobs which tear and rend at your heart.
You turn the shower on and block him out, cleansing yourself of past sins, lathering your body, your hair of his touch, the touch that should have never spiraled out of control, into such maddening desire and confusion and you make a silent promise.
I’ll fix you, joongie, I’ll fix the mess that we have both created, I’ll fix your tears, I’ll make us the old us, joongie and su, again, so we can laugh, we can love, we can touch without being frightened like this.
You have taken care of me all these years and now it is I who must take care of you.
I’ll fix us, joongie, I’ll fix us.
A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. He was lying face-flat on the floor in front of the bathroom. He grimaced and slowly got up, wincing at the painful crick in his neck. The apartment was strangely quiet and he checked his watch, noting the time was only 6:00 a.m. which meant that junsu must still be sleeping.
Tip-toeing into his brother’s room, his body froze. The bedsheets were neatly folded and the study table was bereft of its usual mess. He yanked the drawers open to find them empty and then frantically opened the closet. His breathing became shallow and faster, on the verge of a panic attack, frightened beyond wits now.
Then he spotted it, the inconspicuous post-it, stuck to the lamp and he snatched it, reading quickly, his breathing becoming even quicker.
Joongie, when you see this, I will have left already. Gone from your life, gone from this madness and gone from this crazy parade that we still label as warm, loving, close brothers to the world. It is a lie that I want nothing to do with anymore.
I am with Yunho. He helped me move out and that is all you need to know. My relationship with him should not bother you anymore. He will pay for my medication, even though; it will be hard since he doesn’t have much money. We will survive.
We messed up, joongie, we messed up so much that it was hurting you so much and I was a fool for not seeing, not understanding, not respecting you enough.
I made a promise, joongie. I’ll fix it. Fix our mistakes, fix you, fix this all. Just leave me alone. You may not understand now but I love you so I know you will see and eventually realize that this was perhaps for the best.
Your loving brother,
Su
Sobs tore out of his throat, wild and animalistic, filled with rage. He tore the filthy thing up and flung it in the bin. His mind was reeling in the absolute injustice of it all, the pain was too much, he needed him back, this was madness, it was what he swore would never happen but it did and now his head hurt, his heart was ripped and shredded into countless pieces, and he gasped wildly, clutching at his chest, trying to breathe.
Memories of them came rushing back, shooting like merciless daggers in his swimming head, junsu’s wide, toothy smile, making him kimbap, huddling together in the dark, laughing and sharing the cotton candy, junsu tickling him, junsu kissing him on the cheek, junsu hugging him, junsujunsujunsu-
-his mind gave in to peaceful, blissful black, body falling with a thud on the floor and the last word weakly uttered was a silent cry for junsu! on his trembling lips.
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nachtgrau, 
