sessho08: (grey)
[personal profile] sessho08
Title: let go
Fandom: TVXQ
Pairing: Homin
Rating: (P)G
Words: 821
A/N: Companion piece to hold on. Can be read separately but both make more sense when you know the other part. Enjoy~




sometimes yunho is just what he is. changmin can’t tell the difference when yunho appears at night and his touch is all he’s got to go by. the weight of yunho’s hand on his shoulder when he nudges him to turn over, the warmth of his body when he covers changmin’s own with it. these always feel the same to him. it’s not like it’s any different from when yunho is strong enough to help him with dinner or make him coffee just the way he likes it. from when he can actually lift objects, move them freely, put the kettle on, prepare the cups, fumble with the container filled with the beans and drop the spoon.

sometimes, yunho’s tired. he lacks the energy – he used it up to ruffle changmin’s hair, to strain his untrained voice with old songs sung at the top of his lungs, to dance between the furniture of the living room and poke at the book he couldn’t possibly read.

sometimes changmin wakes up bruised. it’s usually his manager that tells him.

“changmin, you’ve got a slight bruise under your eye, did something happen?” and changmin raises a hand to his own cheek and presses cautiously with the pads of his fingers and indeed, he can feel a tiny pang of pain. he laughs it away.

“ah yeah, i hit myself yesterday night in the bathroom,” he says with a self-deprecating smile. see how clumsy i am, isn’t it endearing. He can hear the reproach in the pregnant pause that follows. his manager knows better by now than to delve into it further and insist but he still somehow finds a way to make changmin feel just the slightest prick of remorse for lying to him.

“it’s okay, really,” he swaps the quirk of his mouth for something closer to placating instead.


yunho always gets upset afterwards. Sometimes, he can’t tell either.

“i didn’t know,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with guilt.

“i didn’t know either. there, we’re even,” changmin silences him, the tone of his voice playful but not really. it’s a plea - don’t talk about it. yunho doesn’t.

at times, manager doesn’t notice. he can’t see changmin’s knees, the inside of his thigh. changmin feels them when he runs soaped up hands over his body under the shower spray. he sighs. he really did think yunho was feeling better last night.

he won’t admit he’s lying to himself.

it continues in this manner for a while. weekly encounters, sometimes more frequent. and then yunho doesn’t show up. changmin aches for his touch, for the imprint of his silly smile against his shoulder, for his clumsiness and slightly burnt pancakes and the warmth of his presence.

he works like he always does and he hopes every day, he succumbs to wishful thinking. it’s pathetic. he can’t help it.

yunho doesn’t appear. it’s an awful month and a half but it comes to an end like it always does. yunho returns rejuvenated, with his hands as real as changmin’s own and with his heart even moreso. changmin doesn’t care that he’s more than a bit in denial.

for a while life is like a dream. no, it’s like finally waking up from the dream and it’s all shades of wonderful, it’s lazy mornings together and yunho waiting for him when he comes back from his latest job, and sometimes quarrels. it’s real and changmin soaks it up like a sponge, this exhilaration, this atmosphere.

and then, yunho’s steps become faint again. he startles changmin with long digits brushing the fringe from his forehead when he’s curled up in his favourite armchair reading at a lazy pace. changmin jolts, his own fingers tightening around the book.

“i’m sorry. didn’t you hear me come in?” there’s a note of hesitance in yunho’s voice that quickly bleeds into resignation. changmin doesn’t answer. he doesn’t have to, they both know by now.

yunho’s footsteps don’t resound in the corridor anymore. soon this sign is followed by other miniscule symptoms. he can’t lift the covers. he can’t pick up the heavy jug filled with mineral water. he can’t laugh as sincerely anymore.

and then, his kisses turn into violets and yellows and browns once more. they never hurt that much but changmin can feel them anyway, the way they mar his skin, the way they mar their time together. still, he enjoys them to an extent. he treasures the pang of pain when he presses a curious finger to the tiny spot between the bones of his ribcage. soon this to will be gone and he will be alone again.




Comments and criticism as always much appreciated ♥
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