Cillisian Thatcher (desultoryspeech) wrote,
Cillisian Thatcher
desultoryspeech

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Spontaneous Action (Three-Shot)

Oh my, what a crappy chapter. I'm going to go pretend I didn't write this now. For some reason, stories always look better when written in a notebook...

Title: Spontaneous Action PART #1 The Middle
Chapters: 2/3
Author: Desultory Speech/Cillisian Thatcher
Genre: Romance, humor
Rating: Teen
Pairing: JaeJoongxJunsu, JaeSu
Synopsis: Everything about you was so aloof, so endearing, that I couldn't help but to love you. We were an odd pair; you, dressed down in black and spouting of quotes like they were a new language, and me, sporting athletic attire and ranting about soccer stars... and yet, we worked.
Comments: I am in no way affiliated with DBSK, Super Junior or SM Entertainment, nor do I know or associate with any of the people in question. I'm not even Korean. This is a work of pure fiction; any similarities drawn between people, places and events are purely by coincidence. This is not meant to offend. The views and opinions in this story are not necessarily the views and opinions of the author. Directed at a mature youth audience. I apologize for grammar errors and spelling mistakes.
Dedicated to violetgurl33, because she requested it, and is just generally reall awesome.

Story © Cillisian Thatcher/Diese Stifte/DesultorySpeech, July 12th, 2008

Part #1 - The Beginning


For the next week, I was continuously looking over the heads of people and around corners for JaeJoong. Everyday, I caught myself on the outlook at least twice. His last words to me had been haunting, and every time someone reminded me of that one sentence – or the encounter entirely – I would subconsciously look around for him. I found myself trekking to places I wouldn’t have normally gone in my searches for him, and wasted plenty of times in that small little Indies cafes and bookstores, all in hopes he’d show up. For the next week, I would stand on my toes any time a student would mention ParkSsho – the high school he went to. Constantly, I would jump and look around for him, as if he would appear randomly again, grab my hand and race me off to another unknown place. Every time, I was left disappointed.

Not that I’d ever admit that I was; when my friends had asked me where I shooed off to that particular evening, I played dumb to it. Shamefully, I wouldn’t admit that I, a CheolDam student, spent an admittedly enjoyable evening with a ParkSsho. The fact that JaeJoong was an angsty, mysterious person instead of a dainty little woman made it all the worse. When they asked me what I’d done, I said I had gotten fed up and went home. They didn’t believe me – obviously, since that was the game of the century and I’d never leave with my favourite team playing, no matter how the faired – but didn’t pry either.

And just for the record, we lost – ten to sixty.

After one, tiny, seven-day week, I decided that I was being stupid. It was just a random encounter, and it was going to stay like that. JaeJoong struck me as the type to be absolutely impulsive and meet absolutely random people all the time – heck, he probably counted them. Perhaps he had an online journal – what do they call them? Blogs? – that he used to document his encounters.

Either way, after that one week, I decided that it was hopeless for me to keep anticipating his random appearance, and so gave up. Our entire meeting had been rather accidental anyways; what were the chances we’d run into one another again?

And just when I gave up hope, he randomly showed up again.

I was grocery shopping with my mom when I bumped into a rather lithe girl. She was wearing a striped red and black shirt, tight fitting grey jeans, and black converse. Slung around her shoulder was a beige bag, with an assortment of buttons. I had bowed and apologized, “Sorry miss,” when someone snorted and grabbed onto my hands, pulling me into a stand. When I looked up at their face, my stomach plummeted with embarrassment and excitement at the same time.

“Junsu ah, did we go through all of coffee with you thinking I was a girl?” JaeJoong drawled, his eyes still invisible beyond his mop of hair.

I looked around for the girl I had bumped into, before realizing that this ‘girl’ was not a ‘girl’ at all, and was, in fact, ‘JaeJoong’.

Wait… I didn’t mean to put his name in air quotes. Never mind.

“Uh, no, I… was…” I stuttered, looking for something believable to say. “I was saying something and you… cut… me… off!” Adding words tp the sentence as they came to my mind gave it a rather choppy sound, an obvious lie, but he gave me a believable look – that, or he was rolling his eyes. It’s very hard to tell with his hair covering him up like that.

“And what were you going to say?” JaeJoong asked, picking up his fallen shopping basket to look expectantly at me.

I blanked.

“Uh… ‘Sorry, miss….ed you!’” I jumped and snapped my fingers at my brilliance. JaeJoong gave me a look, but I didn’t quite realize what it entailed yet. “’Sorry’, as in, sorry for bumping into you! ‘Missed you’, as in I missed…” finally realizing what I was suggesting, I stopped. And winced. Stopped and winced.

Oh, that hurts.

Putting on my best face, I told him the best excuse I had, never mind the fact that it was a boldfaced lie. “I… have an illness.”

JaeJoong smiled and shook his head at me, and was about to say something when my mom came bounding around the corner.

“Junsu, honey, they ran out of small sized underwear, but I was thinking you may have grown to a medi”- My face flushed, and I gestured animatedly for my mom to stop her sentence there. Thankfully, she did.

“Oh, sorry, honey, I didn’t realize you had a girly over here.” She chuckled, waving her hand at JaeJoong, who looked slightly offended. My mom nudged me whining out the words ‘introduce us’. I huffed.

“Mom, this is my friend… HIS, HIIIIIIIIS name, HIS, name is JaeJoong.” For extra emphasis, I added, once more, “His.”

“Ah, hello there. Sorry for the confusion, you’re just so pretty!” Shaking his hand forcefully, my mother smiled brightly. JaeJoong smiled back, looking a bit confused, and I held back a snicker. And suddenly, my mothers face fell. “Oh my,” she gasped, hands covering her mouth. I rolled my eyes as JaeJoong looked at her eagerly, waiting for what she was going to say. “You don’t… have a condition, do you? Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

“OKAY MOM.” I dismissed, pointing in the opposite direction. “THANKS FOR COMING OVER HERE AND MEETING JAEJOONG. WE NEED TOMATOES. THEY’RE OVER THERE. WAY OVER THERE. AT THE OTHER END OF THE STORE.”

“Right, yes, sorry, sir… young man… sir… … JaeGoon!” With that, she ran off, and I face palmed.

My god…

When I looked back up, JaeJoong was calculating the situation thoughtfully, his pale skin being illuminated scarily bright by the florescent lighting in the grocer. After a momentary pause, and the quick click of his tongue, JaeJoong faced me to ask a question.

“Does she have the same illness?”

Fighting back my shame and a ferocious blush that was dominating my face, I nodded. “Yah, it’s hereditary.”

“Ah, good,” I could hardly see how this was good, but nodded along with him regardless. There was an air that followed him that made the world calm and collected, when the most embarrassing of situations had just passed. “It seems fate has decided to push us back together again.” He mused absent mindedly, his lips tugging to a ghost of a smile.

“Fate?” My voice was as deadpan as my expression, eyes boring to JaeJoong as my mind went over his statement – ludicrous; absolutely, completely undeniably ludicrous.

Fate…

“Yes, ‘fate’.” He deducted, placing a finger to his chin. He eyed me appreciatively – a sort of ‘appreciation’ that left me feeling bare to the bone as I stood before him – before speaking again. “How about we meet for coffee later? Seven o’clock? Same café as before?”

I grimaced as I thought of the coffee, bitter and pungent, before nodding. As bad as the coffee had been, the hot chocolate was warm and thick, fully worth the trek down to the little Indies café full of jazz and incense. Before parting ways, JaeJoong had smiled smugly at me and asked how the team had done.

I wasn’t about to admit he was right on purpose, and so I glared as I muttered the words.

“Lucky guess.”

---

In the small café known as ‘Les Amateurs de Point’, two utterly disparate men sat. The table they were at was chipped and vandalized, pens and knives having been taken to its once polished surface one time too many. Their chairs, once plush and bright, were a cheerless burgundy, deflated, but still soft to the touch. The walls of the café were plastered from top to bottom with flyers and loose papers, some advertisements for bands, others poems or short stories, left by those who came and went. Under the paper, one would discover them to be a warm, honey brown colour, but no one intended to tear the sheets down. They gave the place a warm character not to be found elsewhere, and they were a constant interest to the patrons.

Like a smooth molasses, saxophone and bass filled the joint, complimented beautifully by a melancholic piano trill and the voice of a tormented young woman. Singing softly throughout the foggy air were words of lovers and friends, thoughts of the lonely and the loved alike. Intertwined, intermingling; the place a safe haven for those who found no warmth outside of the café. Some spent their lives in that very place; breathing in the fumes of incense and coffee, second hand smoke and cheap sex and money. There, they truly felt dear to those around them, accepted, and so they continued to come.

Each piece of the café was integral; if missing one part, the entire thing would fall.

Reading the tables was a local custom, and the group of young, poetic woman in the far left corner, sedentary under the draping leopard print fabric and fake plastic beads, were doing just that. Dropping the fork into the surface – whatever words were trapped under the silver prongs of the utensil would be their life motto. Some of them received decent enough advise to have come from a table – ‘Who has loved has been loved’, ‘What you are comes to you’ – others joined her friends in laughter as they read their counsel – ‘Pick up dry cleaning Wednesday’, ‘Don’t forget to feed the dog’.

Occasionally, every soul in the café would admire the tables, scarred with personality. And this was the state of the two utterly, completely dissimilar men.

The older was leaning over the tables, a dull pink mug of spiced coffee to his lips as his eyes looked over the ancient carvings. He was a starkly handsome boy, clothing dark as his mind and the past he disclosed in it. Firm jaw line, thin nose, high cheekbones – all covered with a pale, flawless skin that many women spent listful hours of interrogation to acquire. Humming softly, the boy traced the words penned into the table’s surface with his fingertips, all the while following them with the eyes he hid from the world.

He was a man a secrets; a man of clandestinely.

The younger was stretching tiredly; his fourth mug of hot chocolate sitting empty on the tabletop had left him sleepy. He was an attractive man, lips full and eyes small, but nowhere near as handsome as the former. His clothing were bright, his shirt green and shorts black, and he stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of grays and browns that inhabited the café. But he was too naive to pay any attention to that, rattling off a mile a minute to the older man about nothing in particular, though his voice was groggy and he yawned often.

He was an open book, and far too curious for his own good.

He was me.

I made a mental note to find out what ‘Les Amateurs de Point’ meant – JaeJoong seemed to know, but also seemed rather keen on not telling me, no matter how much I pleaded.

Finishing my riveting recollection of my trip camping a few summers back, I tapped the table, yawning once more in the near-empty café. Having been there since seven – the clock was then striking ten – I had consumed far too much of the thick, warm melted cocoa they had at this place, and was therefore feeling lethargic.

At the end of another deep yawn, I stretched my legs out under the table to give them some fight. Glancing again at the clock to make sure it was indeed ten, I let out a chuckle and remarked to JaeJoong, “Time flies, huh?”

Smiling softly, JaeJoong nodded his head. “Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; sooner is a thing no brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place.”

I rolled my eyes in an exaggerated manner, shaking my head at him. “One day, I’m going to have a quote you’ve never heard, and we’ll see how you like that!”

Chuckling, JaeJoong stood in spot and began to pick up the mugs. I grabbed a few as well and maneuvering through the empty chairs to the check out. JaeJoong was quick behind me, placing his two cups down next to the four of mine. Sending a sly smirk my way, he told me I drink far too much, to which I complained that there was no food, so of course I had to fill my stomach with something. We payed the six dollars, and found ourselves walking out in the cold once more, to a random destination that we had yet to pick.

Neither of us wanted the night to end; I knew it, and I was sure he knew it.

“You want to grab a burger?” JaeJoong asked suddenly. Cutting my eyes to him, I gave an enthusiastic nod.

“Food? Yes! Please!” I breathed out the words, and suddenly, we had destination. Our steps echoed out in the barren streets, our shadows waxing and waning as we drew closer and farther away from each passing streetlamp. As we passed a particularly unruly looking cat, it became our topic of discussion. For some reason, we were discussing where it came from, where it was going, and, for some reason, JaeJoong was really engrossed in the conversation.

“One cheeseburger, please,” I requested from the clerk, and JaeJoong’s order mirrored mine, with the addition of a lemon soda. “Maybe it’s going to visit its friend cat.” I input, shrugging.

JaeJoong pursed his lips momentarily, before shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that cat has any friends. He looked lonely.”

“The cat looked lonely?”

“Yes. He did.”

As I tried to figure out what a precisely a ‘lonely cat’ looked like, JaeJoong continued his hypothesis.

“I think, perhaps, he lost his family in a terrible accident, and is looking for a friend… no animal is meant to be alone, just as no man is…”

“Maybe it was just admiring the other cats?” I tried once more, taking the tray from the clerk as she handed it over to me thankfully. She eyed JaeJoong up momentarily, biting onto her bottom lip appreciatively. Furrowing my eyebrows, I grabbed onto JaeJoong’s arm and trudged to a booth at the back of the fast food joint.

“No,” he murmured, completely oblivious to the teenaged girl as she checked him out. He sat across from me, grabbing his burger and unwrapping it absentmindedly. “Animals do not admire each other; a horse does not admire it’s companion.”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, taking a bite of my burger contently. “Who’s that one by?”

He smiled, swallowing before he spoke. “Blaise Pascal.”

“Ah,” I acknowledged, before biting into my burger again.

JaeJoong grinned at me. “You don’t have a clue who his is, do you?”

“Notta’one.” I admitted, looking up at JaeJoong for an explanation.

“He was a French mathematician… physicist, religious philosopher,” he answered, thinking momentarily before adding on, “He was a child prodigy of sorts… his scientific discoveries went on to contribute to the development of calculators. He wrote many books.” With that, he took another bite of his cheeseburger, chewing happily.

I blinked, before chuckling myself. “You know too much about things you shouldn’t know about.”

With a shrug, JaeJoong defended himself. “Hey, it’s good to know the origins of the world.”

“I’m sure it is.” I murmured sarcastically, earning myself a glare – or maybe it wasn’t a glare. I couldn’t rightly tell. Times like these, I wished I could brush the hair out of his face.

JaeJoong snorted at me, “Your just ignorant.”

“You know what they say – ignorance is bliss.” I was about to steal a drink from his soda when I noticed him opening his mouth, no doubt to throw another quote at me. “AHAHAH!” I shushed, wagging my finger in front of his face. “If you utter another quote tonight, I’m going to hit you.”

A baffled look crossed JaeJoong’s face – or, perhaps, just the lower part of his face – and he scoffed. “I was not going to quote anyone!”

“Oh yah?” I challenged, “What were you going to say then?”

“I was going to call you a blister.” He answered simply, shoving the rest of his burger into his mouth.

I glared.

----

We hung out almost every second night after that. It was a sudden change, and uncomfortable at first, but we quickly got to know each other well. JaeJoong was completely different from everyone else I’ve ever met, the opposite of my friends and my family members; opposite of me. But that very well may have been what made us cohere to each other so quickly.

Most often, we got together in the café, conversing over the jazz, joking in the thick, drug laced air. I can’t remember most of what we had talked about, and yet, those days were the most memorable days of my life.

They were also the most secretive. Though my parent’s had no problem with me meeting JaeJoong so frequently, my friends and brother would have definitely found something wrong with it. He was, after all, a ParkSsho. And ParkSsho’s and CheolDam’s weren’t supposed to hang out together, as pathetic and weird as that sounds. Rival schools – I could be beaten up for hanging out with someone like JaeJoong.

And it’d be even worse if our friendship developed.

What worried me was that I liked JaeJoong – I liked him a lot. Maybe even too much .We were too good of friends. So much, that sometimes, I found myself doing things or saying things to him that bordered flirting, but it never seemed to bother him. And so, it never really bothered me either. It wasn’t until I slipped up and said something I’d said to JaeJoong to my friend YooChun that I realized how racy it was – I had gotten a hand full of comments, asking me, ‘Junsu ah, Junsu ah, are you gay?’

But that never did make me stop.

Perhaps I should have, but the more I hung out with JaeJoong, the more I liked him, and the more I wanted to say things like that. What unnerved me the most about the fact that I liked him so much was that I hadn’t seen his face before, and so I was becoming friends with someone I didn’t even know entirely – couldn’t even trust entirely.

And I made that clear a few months after our first meeting.

We were fooling around in a park by my house. Beating up on each other – playfully, might I add, like brothers would – joking around; it was nearly midnight. Our mind were foggy and clouded, as earlier that night in the café there had been a few people smoking something that was definitely too pungent to be regular cigarettes. We had, unfortunately, been sitting right beside them, and so had inhaled enough of the fumes to be a bit out of it.

JaeJoong laughed loudly as I jumped onto his back, tapping the back of his head and yelling out ‘YOU’RE IT!’ before giggling and running away. Before I could even think, he had declared war, and was running after me. We ran around, playing tag, until our legs grew tired, and we settled on the ground; gasping for breath, chuckling at our own stupidity when we could. I pointed up at a cloud, and declared, loudly, “JaeJoong, that’s going to be your wife.”

I looked at him with humor, and he seemed to look up at the sky. How his bangs could have still remained so perfectly in front of his eyes after all that, I would never know, but his face was still a mystery to me. After all this time, I still wondered what he looked like under that hair.

“Hey, Jae, why do you wear your hair like that?” I asked, finally. I wasn’t sure if it was the tipsiness of my brain, or perhaps my overwhelming curiosity, but I had finally managed to squeeze out a question that had plagued my mind for more than long enough.

Frowning, JaeJoong sat up, brushing his bangs to make sure they were amply covering his face. At finding they were, he let out a long sigh, turning his head in my direction. I sat up, too, and crossed my legs.

“I have weird eyes,” he told me, and I forced myself to stifle a giggle. “I got bullied for it as a kid…”

“Weird? Like how weird?” I inquired, inching closer to him.

“Like… like a girl?” He asked himself, before shaking his head.

“A girl?” I repeated, disbelief filling out my voice.

“No, well… I mean, not entirely. But with my face together… it’s very…” I watched in amusement as he struggled for words, wincing at the thoughts as they came into his head. “I have a very weird look.” He finally said, icily, and I could hear the loathing for himself in his voice.

“Oh yah?” I joked, wiggling my shoulders as I inched closer. He sent me a scathing look, as if knowing what I was going to say. “Can I see”-

“No.”

“Jae~” I whined, and so, he huffed and looked at me.

“No.”

I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why not? It’s not like I’m not going to be your friend after. Dude, I barely see your face anyways.” I argued, watching carefully as his resistance crumbled slowly.

“No.”

And that ended that.

For the next few weeks, I would constantly try to sneak a glance at face, try to see his eyes. This came in many forms, from blowing air to his face, to surprise jumping him. Nothing seemed to work though, and I became more and more discouraged than before. Finally, I gave up.

---

I lay on my back, glaring up at the sky that was cascading over us in brilliant grey. We were sitting in my room – more or less because it was raining outside. My parents had gone out of town with my brother for a basketball tournament, and so I had invited JaeJoong to crash at my house for the night. It was a key opportunity, as my brother was rarely away, and so I had snatched it up in a heartbeat.

“You can sleep here,” I said, pointing to my brother’s bed, just across the room from mine. “Or, if that weirds you out, you can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in his.”

JaeJoong nodded in acknowledgment, plopping down onto the bed. “What’s your brothers name?”

“Junho,” I answered in a snarl, chucking my pillow bitterly in the direction of Junho’s side of the room. “We’re twins.”

“Really? There are two Junsu’s?” JaeJoong remarked, seeming to find humor in it. I glared. “Right, right, sibling rivalry. Got it.”

“Speaking of which, do you have siblings?” I asked, to which he nodded. “Oh yah, brother or sister?”

“Sisters,” He responded, ringing his hands together. “Eight of them.”

I baulked. “EIGHT?!”

With a nod, JaeJoong clapped his hands. “That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to come here.”

“I completely understand.”

An hour later, we were in my living room, watching some random slasher fic my dad had bought the day prior. At a particularly gory part of the movie, I decided to get up and get something to eat.

“You want some popcorn?” I asked, standing up. JaeJoong turned his head in my direction, a small smirk on his face.

“Not one for carnage?” he asked, to which I shook my head feverously.

“Not really, no.”

“Ah, okay then.”

And so he resumed watching the movie as I went to make popcorn. I took as long as humanly possible, and, when that was overstretched to the maximum it could go, I listened for what sounded like a essentially clean part to return. When I stepped back into the living room, JaeJoong had tossed all of the blankets and pillows off of the couch and onto the floor, and was sprawled out on his back, head craned to the side to watch it. I rolled my eyes at him, stepping over the blankets.

And I’m not even going to lie about this next part. It sounds like one of those cheesy pieces from a drama that never actually happen, but are thrown in for something to happen – deus ex machina – but I swear to god, it happened. Just as I was about to sit on the couch, my leg got caught in one of the blankets, and I tripped.

Popcorn went flying, I screamed loudly – and high pitched – and next thing I knew, I was lying on the couch. Right on top of JaeJoong.

And I was completely frozen in shock, unable to move or think or do relatively anything but stare into the general area of JaeJoong’s eyes at his matted black hair. I don’t know if it was something he saw in my eyes, or maybe, if it was something I read off of him, but the next few moment drawled on for ages. As I was about to get up, my senses suddenly fleeted me, and I lost all sense of time and reality.

Not because I’m an idiot and fell again.

No.

Because JaeJoong had kissed me, and I, for some unfathomable reason that even now I can’t understand, was kissing him back.
Tags: dbsk, fanfiction, jaejoong, jaesu, junsu, spontaneous action, three-shot
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