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I thought I could post this stuff before my exams start and my life is gone as an effect. :> Two weird AUs which may be finished but "or not" is, like always, the more plausible option in my case.
Enjoy? :)

All I want is you | Homin | AU | 1,642 words | PG | Inspired and sort of based on this MV so it'd be probably a little more understandable after seeing it | started writing: 2012.04.28



Everyone on the world is born with their own second half. They’re somewhere out there – leading a mirror life to your own, sleeping, eating, crying, laughing when you do. Your breaths are synchronised as are your heartbeats and they measure the time that’s left until you finally meet and your separate lives merge into one – hoping that such a moment will actually happen. They can live in the same country or it can be the other edge of the world. But you’ll find them if you know how to search, and you’ll know it when you find them. It’ll be the greatest happiness that you could ever fathom, the way it was for me and your late grandpa, is what little six years old Changmin often hears from his beloved Grandma that always cooks him delicious food. It’s his favourite story and since he can only remember, he used to tug at her skirt (and then her blazer when he was tall enough to reach it) with a plea to hear it once again.
These are also her last words before some intimidating, men with strict, impersonal faces in suits come and take her away. She caresses his face and says “You’re my blood, Changminnie. You’ll know what to do,” and then the men leading her push her away from him, push her outside the door. He never sees her again.

His panicked parents find him sitting at the table, drawing a picture of two people eating tangerines, walking. He doesn’t cry when they hug him – relief painted on their faces, inexplicable fear in their hearts.

When he’s a bit older, he asks them about it during dinner. His mother drops the plate she was in the middle of handing to his father and his father shoves away his chair and marches up to Changmin. Looming over him he orders, “You’ll never speak of it again. Not to your mother, not to me, not to anyone else. And if someone comes asking about it, you won’t answer them either. Do you understand me?”
Changmin nods quickly. There are no protests from him – he knows his parents well enough, knows the expression on his father’s face and it tells him there’s no room for objections.
(If he doesn’t say it, it’s not a lie, right?)

Changmin keeps his word. He doesn’t talk about it. He stores it inside his heart instead, makes it his biggest secret, his treasure. He grows up turning the thought around in his head obsessively, never letting it out of his mind.

He doesn’t talk about it but he searches and reads whatever he can only find. He picks up the pieces of information that other people have deemed unworthy, too silly to ever consider. He never writes down anywhere anything he learns, the memory of his grandma’s slouched with age back being quickly hidden with manly broad sinister backs clad in suits still alive in his mind. Changmin compiles them and then stores inside hundreds of shelves of his mind, everything sorted out and properly labeled.

Once he thinks he’s more or less learnt the theory and all that’s general, he starts seeking the specifics.
It’s complicated on good days, an impossible task on worse. Even with his knowledge, there are so many unknowns. Nationality, exact age, sex, height, personality – all of this is clouded in mystery and he has no clue how to even start unveiling it.

The only hint he has that he can begin from at this stage are the heartbeats but he can’t exactly go around asking people to let him take their pulse. He brainstorms some more whenever he has free time - his nails suffering in the process, bitten down almost to skin (so he returns to picking at his sleeves – at least clothes can be always bought).

The conclusions he comes up with are filed away in respective drawers and so.
The person exists for him, he exists for them so they should be around the same age. Travelling can be done as long as there’s money - and it would be much easier if he had that money but he doesn’t, so he decides to focus on Korea for now. But if they’re born for each other, their lives meant to be spent together, then it’d make sense for them not to have too big of an age gap.
He’s discovered when he’s only stepped into adolescence, that he’s drawn to boys, so it’s more likely to be a male.

It’s not much but with these he rules out women and people much older and much younger than him. He’s still taking a huge risk, he’s well aware of it – fate doesn’t have to be equally logical but he figures he needs to take some hazards.
And it’s his fate so maybe it is logical the way he is, after all.

He chooses his major at college so it’ll come in handy in his future search. He studies hard for several years, maintaining his status of a recluse, of that strange, tacit guy that does some weird things sometimes – holds people’s hands for just a moment too long while introducing himself, drops his phone and then immediately starts looking around frantically instead of just picking it up, and much more.
That person’s not here, Changmin decides after his numerous attempts and trials. He devotes himself to his studies, ignoring the way his heart beats just a bit faster when that nice guy with a husky voice, bright eyes and full lips helps him up once after he tripped over some asshole’s outstretched foot. It’s not that person, he knows, can somehow feel it with some kind of odd certainty. The spark’s there but it’s not what it should be like and Changmin, Changmin won’t settle for anything-- anyone-- less than he’s sure is waiting for him.
He still spends several next days mulling over the incident, over the sincere smile and the long fingers that held his, doubting whether he’s doing the right thing after all, if he’s not throwing his life away for someone that maybe will forever stay just someone somewhere out there. He gets over it – the perspective of yielding to the temptation of a warm body and a kind gaze (not the as it should be) and giving up on the dream of his life scaring him enough to give the guy a cold shoulder whenever he stumbles upon him afterwards.

He graduates with honours – the doors to his desired job as a governmental worker in an office in charge of human resources and, most importantly, the very detailed censuses that are conducted throughout the whole country each year, open. He steals moments between fulfilling his duties and takes overtime hours – all to scroll through countless personal profiles, searching for some hints, anything that’d suggest a connection with him. Most of the time it’s for naught but he does find some every now and then. He adds the person to the list he’ll be checking during next census and he hopes.

Changmin reaches the age of thirty without fanfare, with no one to celebrate it with him except his parents but even they don’t show up (on his explicit request). He goes to a nearest pub and drinks and drinks and drinks, trying to drown his growing insecurities, the inkling depression and doubt that’s been creeping over him lately.

He wakes up in an hospital room, his heart beating at a sluggish pace, his thoughts muddled. He feels sick. He probably is sick, he guesses. The duvet he’s covered with feels too heavy, almost suffocating and he’s small and he’s alone. He can’t fall back asleep.
A female nurse appears after two hours (he knows – he’s counted - seconds turned into minutes turned into hours). She’s a bit old to be still working, Changmin thinks and, his mind still in haze, voices the thought aloud.
She looks at him for a moment and then laughs.
“You’re right, actually,” she smiles, her face full of wrinkles, her gray hair in a tight bun. “Normally, I’m already retired - I’m here only as a temporary stand in. The nurse whose shift it should be, suddenly called in sick yesterday, just before you were brought here. He’s my friend and he needs the money this job brings him so I offered to help.” Her smile deepens, tinted with that specific warmth that belongs to thoughts about people particularly dear to us. “But enough about me!” she continues, her voice gaining an edge of seasoned professionalism to it. “I’m here to check if you’re all comfortable.” She starts bustling around him, fluffing up his pillows, administering him a dose of sleeping pills.
Changmin’s head is still pounding and his mind – usually so apt at this art – doesn’t make the connection.

A day later he’s ready to be discharged. He thanks the nurse and the doctor under whose care he was put and leaves as quickly as he can.

He’s walking with his head down, taking big, hurried steps. He just knows he wants to be outside and away as soon as it’s possible. He’s not really looking where he’s going and so he almost bumps into someone. It’s only by miracle that they manage to sidestep each other – the motion of their shoulders surprisingly fluid and timed just right that they barely avoid brushing each other.
Changmin shoots a glance at the person’s face when they pass each other by – at a handsome manly profile and slightly unruly black hair and his gaze lingers for just a moment longer than it would normally in such a situation. The man turns his head slightly after him as well and their eyes lock for a second. When his heart skips a beat, Changmin berates himself in his mind and quickens his pace.




Crystal clear | Homin | AU | 670 words | PG | started writing: 2012.05.12



Shim Changmin’s not rich. He isn’t so when he wakes up at 6AM to the dark room and his newly bought window not working, he gets righteously pissed off.

He’s already pretty much resigned himself to the impossibility of the prospect of being woken up by aroma of tasty, perfectly cooked breakfast. It didn’t mean, though, that something like this was an acceptable alternative.

He rises with furious energy from his narrow, just barely long enough bed and stalks over to the window, not bothering with the remote control. He opens the pad and presses the power button. Nothing. His room stays as unwelcoming and dark as it has been moments ago.

Changmin glares at the screen for a full minute and then he lets out a drawn out, dejected sigh.


Life during these several years without a window had been hard. When Changmin moved out of the facility after his supposed grandfather left it for him along with the apartment when he died, he was almost delirious with joy. Exhilarated at the prospect of having a window he didn’t think to check its expiry date and so when it came, he was utterly and pathetically unprepared.

The permission to install the electricity needed to light a room, a whole apartment is very hard to attain. Several hours a day is the most many people can afford but frankly, it’s not enough. A window is much cheaper to maintain but first you have to buy it and that is no small feat.

Changmin had to save for whole five years to be able to buy his window. Five years spent living on a single red emergency light bulb. The experience almost impaired his eyesight greatly and he felt as if he was nearing insanity at times. And now, while he could afford only the simplest packet – barely three options – “meadow”, “forest” and , it has still aided him greatly. There was just something about being able to function in real light. With his social status and earnings and the perspectives they gave him - the artificiality of it didn’t matter much.


So it suddenly acting up despite all his struggles…

Changmin breaks the seal on the emergency button and takes a day off at work to wait for someone from service to come so he can see to their work. He wasn’t able to be present during the installation and now he realises – belatedly – that it was a big mistake on his part. A good, perfectly new window screen shouldn’t have broken after a year so it’s clear that this has to be a human error. It’s just his luck, he scowls. No one he knows and none of his few but carefully selected and trusted friends ever encountered such an issue.


A half an hour later that Changmin spends wording his complaints in his head, the sound of knocking on the metal door signals the appearance of someone from the service. He rises from where he’s sitting on his bed quickly and opens the door to let the person it.

The initial reaction isn’t too favourable. The man that’s standing at his doorstep has a sheepish look on his face and no professional air to him despite the pristine uniform he’s wearing. He’s also young. Far too young than what Changmin has heard the engineers usually are.

He’s also very handsome, Changmin briefly notices but he squashes the thought as soon as it forms in his head. Suddenly, he’s not surprised at all at the malfunction that has occurred to him today morning.

Some of his thoughts must surface on his face – or maybe he’s just making the man wait too long without inviting him in. If it’s true – he doesn’t bother with schooling his expression into something more civil.

The man hurriedly introduces himself.
“Good morning. This is Mr. Shim Changmin as I suppose? My name is Jung Yunho and I’m a worker responsible for your window, Mr.” he smiles brightly and it’s jarring in the red light.

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