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This kitchen is too big for just the two of them, Jaejoong thinks. One foot flat on the seat, the knee pressed to his chest, he sits watching Yoochun pick on his food at the other side of the table. It is too early in the morning to be chatty for anyone, but Yoochun looks as if something lies heavily on his mind. The dim light is crawling through the blinds, creating surreal patterns on the ceiling and walls. Sometimes the easiness with which he can read Yoochun scares him. But this strange magic called soulmates works both ways.
His coffee is getting cold, but watching Yoochun is worth it.
Yoochun sighs and looks up, meeting Jaejoong’s concerned gaze for a moment. He stands up then and takes his plate with unfinished breakfast to the sink.
“Leave it,” Jaejoong says and Yoochun moves on autopilot opening drawers, fishing for the saved-for-the-rainy-day pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He manages to light up before Jaejoong makes some kind of sound at the base of this throat.
It means, you promised to quit. Yoochun shakes his head a little. And Jaejoong’s understands with crystal clarity that Yoochun needs it now. So he lets it go.
He moves to the sink to busy his hands with something. Close to him, Yoochun is leaning to the counter, the smoke from his burning cigarette whirling around them both.
“How is it with An?” Jaejoong asks, because he feels it’s exactly what he has to ask.
Yoochun is silent. And so Jaejoong washes hands, turns off the tap and, drying hands on the apron, conveniently lying nearby, reaches for the pack too. He leans to the counter, his thigh pressing to Yoochun’s, lights up and Yoochun holds up an ashtray.
“It’s over,” Yoochun finally whispers.
With this warmth against his side it is so easy to forget who and where they are. It’s easy to close his eyes and think of the secluded house and high fences – the place where they do not have to pretend. Or think of a vacation, the time when they belong only to themselves and nobody else. Imagine that they can live the normal lives of the young men they are.
But the clock on the wall ticks away, counting the minutes, and although they have half an hour or so more, it is still not enough. Or maybe it is too much.
“Because of the touring?” Jaejoong rather feels than sees Yoochun nod. He understands the reasoning all too well; all of them at some point tried to have a steady relationship and failed. Yoochun bites his lips and sniffs, so Jaejoong loops his free arm around his friend’s shoulders to bring him closer. The boy leans to him, his tears already escaping from his eyes. He smells like a flowery shampoo and sharp cologne and bitter smoke. Jaejoong presses a soft kiss to the dark head.
It is 7:35 am. They still have time for this.
//
Written: March 28, 2008
Revised: June 18, 2013