Arya 108 Posted August 10, 2013 Share Posted August 10, 2013 Title: Because it was worth it Pairing: Yunjae, Homin, Jaemin Length: one-shot (2,288 wc) Rating: pg13 Summary: “I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it’s just too much. The current’s too strong. They’ve got to let go, drift apart. That’s how it is with us. It’s a shame, Kath, because we’ve loved each other all our lives. But in the end, we can’t stay together forever.†— Tommy (Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go) A/N: so I saw this, and I immediately felt compelled to write a fic based on it :x I’ve never read the book, or watched the movie, so what I’m writing is purely based off the synopsis I googled. Jaejoong receives the call for his first donation one month after Yunho’s death. The lady on the line is indifferent—who wouldn’t be though, he asks himself, when your job is to ring up people and tell them that in a month or a year or two they’d be one organ closer to Death. But then before she hangs up she tells him “it’s okay†and even though it doesn’t exactly make him feel better, he utters a silent “thank you.†He looks out through the shattered, rusty window of his old Cottage into the lifeless, blue sky and asks himself when exactly did he become so lonely. -- It’s the first day of school and the first thing the teacher says to a class of twenty children, identical in uniform and innocence, is, “keeping yourself healthy is the most important part of your life.†And all twenty of them, registering the teacher’s words as typical advice, nod in agreement, Jaejoong not excluded. Madame tells them in her sweet, sickly voice, hands clasping together almost painfully in a cooing gesture, to take out their drawing blocks and crayons, and in five minutes silence ensues as five-year-olds engage themselves in the crimson and navy blue and golden scribbles that make up a fruit or animal of their choice. “What is that?†one of the boys, Kangin, snorts as he looks over at his table mate’s drawing. The sudden breach of silence draws the attention of everyone but Madame; some kids return to their drawing, while most of them scurry over to look down at the victimized child. “Ew, it looks like some gross alien!†“What, is that your pet?†“Madame’s definitely not going to take it.†Tears of humiliation brimmed in the child’s eyes, but instead of bursting he turns to Kangin and hits his face with an open palm. Kangin falls back, unconscious, and when the witnessing kids recognize the ruby liquid running down his nose as blood, they scamper away in a rush, squealing. Only Jaejoong, who watches and remains quiet the whole time, takes a hold of the angry boy’s hand and tells him, “Stop.†-- It’s the third year of grade school when they both meet him. Jaejoong and Yunho are having lunch by the fountain when suddenly a familiar boy plops down between them. He’s instantly identified as Changmin, a boy who is as aggressive as he is sharp. He looks from left to right, from Yunho to Jaejoong, and smiles. And when he does, Jaejoong can’t help but notice the way the boy’s eyes mismatch almost adorably, thick lips stretching over gums and teeth. At that moment, Jaejoong’s eyes glaze over the way Yunho watches the youngest boy with glinting fascination in his hazelnut eyes, and a foreign feeling, which he can’t seem to place at the time, invades his heart and makes it throb a little painfully. -- Jaejoong looks back at all those times when Life has taught him nothing, and among the sea of countless delusions and lies, he remembers the only painful truth he learns as a child. -- The day’s lesson consists of excited teenagers discussing their ambition. The students are either working quickly with their pencils, imprinting on paper the vision in their head, or breathing life into empty canvases in the form of colorful upsurges with animated brushes. Thoroughly engrossed with the concept of ‘ambition’ itself, they don’t see Miss Sulli come into the room, but they hear Madame stand up from her chair, and unfinished or not, they scramble to hand in their art. Madame doesn’t say a word, a small smile playing on her lips as the last child hands in his work. It’s the one time when Jaejoong thinks that their art teacher has ever shown anything sincere on her facade. As Madame exits, Miss Sulli turns to the whole class. “What were you doing?†she inquires amusedly, hands resting on her hips. “We were doing a thing about ambition!†a boy from the back of the class, Junsu, squeaks in his pre-puberty voice. “I want to be a soccer player!†Miss Sulli raises her eyebrows at this. “But… you can’t.†The hushed ocean of whispered excitement abruptly comes into a halt. “Why not?†Yunho growls. The young teacher sighs, walking towards her seat, the sound of her stilettos clacking against the floor suddenly becoming deafening. “Because all of you are ‘donors.’†“What are donors?†Jaejoong asks. Miss Sulli smiles, but it’s the unusual kind, the one that doesn’t seem to spell happiness, fake or not. “When you grow up, you will all give your organs away to the ‘normals’ until you reach ‘completion.’†The silence that ensues becomes the most painful experience they’ve felt. “Like… we die?†Junsu croaks. Miss Sulli nods. “You die.†And at this point the whole class bursts into crying tremors and yells of disbelief. It doesn’t sink into Jaejoong for a while, and his expression is a dazed one. He looks to his left and he’s wondering why Changmin is crying, but then there’s a weight on his right shoulder and he turns, face meeting a disarrayed bush of brown, wispy hair. Jaejoong takes Yunho’s hand into his and squeezes. -- Jaejoong realizes that after that incident Miss Sulli never actually came back. The news hit Yunho the hardest, despite her last words to him being that he had to be creative, even though she had said the exact opposite a few months back. Jaejoong thinks to himself with a nagging feeling that she didn’t mean it, but he’s never brought it up with Yunho before, so he dismisses the potential “what ifs.†-- It’s been more than five years since he’s seen either Changmin or Yunho, so when the former is assigned as Jaejoong’s fourth donor, the redhead’s feelings end up straddling the wall between spite and nostalgia. But when Changmin enters on a wheelchair with only a quarter of his soul away from Death, choking out a weak, feeble “hyung,†that’s where their differences end and all that comes back between them are memories of the times when Changmin would steal a piece of Jaejoong’s lunch when he wasn’t looking, when they would playfully hit each other (though that had always ended badly because Changmin was much, much stronger than the other), but most of all, it’s that Changmin had been one half of Jaejoong’s happiness as a child. And when you were a clone reaped for Death in the guise of ‘completion’, happiness shines more beautiful than even the Sunset that they had snuck out to see when they were once nineteen. So Jaejoong’s legs bring him forward in long strides, pacing a little faster at the end as he throws his arms around Changmin. He doesn’t even realize the tears flowing down his cheeks until he pulls back and all he hears are his own sobs and hiccups. But then Changmin laughs, resulting in a grin forming on Jaejoong’s lips, and despite the foreign feeling of smiling again and the ache that promptly creeps up in his cheek muscles, Jaejoong is happy. -- “I was jealous of the both of you. You looked so happy together, and I didn’t want to end up alone. So I seduced him, despite knowing you two were in love with each other. I regretted… no, I regret it. I was selfish.†Jaejoong doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what to say. He merely lays a hand on Changmin’s shoulder, squeezing it, and unlike so many times in the past, this time the younger man brings his hand up to lap over Jaejoong’s. The touch is subtle, but the appreciative message behind the gesture is clear and the wind carries a silent “thank you†from Changmin to Jaejoong. Another squeeze on the shoulder, as if to say that it’s fine. Changmin reaches into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Jaejoong. “It’s Madame’s address.†“And the other one?†“Yunho’s.†Jaejoong’s head snaps up, and clearing his throat, he croaks, “Why?†Changmin grunts and shifts in his position, seeking a more comfortable posture. “Over the years, I’ve heard rumors of deferrals. It was the main reason why I ran away with Yunho in the first place, because I thought I could make him love me. And if we could prove that our love was real, despite being clones, we could delay our donations by three years.†And then Changmin chuckles lowly, bitterly. “But that didn’t work out so well. He was still madly in love with you, and he ended up spending his time painting god knows what. As for me… I thought I love him. Until I met Yoochun.†“Yoochun?†Changmin shakes his head. “It’s nothing. He’s dead now. Didn’t survive his third donation. Bitch.†But the pain in his voice betrays his colorless words, and when Jaejoong listens closely, he can just barely catch the choked whimper the other elicits. Carefully, as if it will break Changmin if said wrongly, Jaejoong says, “I forgive you.†This time, the younger man’s cries are anything but inaudible. The fragile snuffles break Jaejoong’s heart to pieces, and the hyung is about to say something when Changmin cuts him off. “Promise me… promise me you’ll find him.†Jaejoong’s eyes soften, and he lays his cheek on Changmin’s head, breathing deeply. “I promise.†-- When Jaejoong meets Yunho again, the reunion is even more awkward than expected. The brunette looks like he hasn’t bathed in weeks; his face is tainted with red, green, blue, yellow, orange and some other colored paint that can’t be so healthy when left on for long. His hands aren’t any better either, but then his grip loosens and he drops the paintbrush and wet cloth, and Jaejoong doesn’t register anything until Yunho pulls him into bone-crushing embrace. Among the mixed stench of paint, wood, and paper, there’s that familiar scent—vague, but definitely there scent of cinnamon and apple which is so distinctively Yunho and Jaejoong simply allows it to penetrate his senses and overwhelm his being because just— “Yunho,†Jaejoong whimpers, burying his head into the junction between Yunho’s neck and shoulder. He gets drunk on the other’s presence, and he desperately tries to press his face deeper; he relishes in the strong hold that Yunho has on him, feeling secure for once in years. “Jaejoong,†Yunho breathes, and the intimacy in his low, warm timbre shatters Jaejoong’s defenses all over again. -- The following Saturday, Yunho and Jaejoong stand outside Madame’s house, fingers laced in a firm grip. It hurts, actually, but the physical pain masks a fraction of their nerve-wrecking nausea, and none of them are complaining. Jaejoong turns to face Yunho, who has an arm wrapped securely around a covered painting. “Ready?†Yunho stares back, shaking his head. There aren’t any tears, but his red eyes are clear indication of how he truly feels. But it’s Yunho, and so he manages a smile and an unconvincing nod. For Changmin. They ring the bell. -- Reminiscing that particular moment makes Jaejoong think about how all his Life, everything has been one cruel joke after another, and even the only two people he’s ever cared for slip away from him. He remembers his very last conversation with Yunho, before the latter entered the surgical room for his fourth donation. I’m not going to ask you to remember me… but if you could keep a part of your heart reserved, just for me, I’ll die happy. You idiot. You’ve already occupied half of my heart. But despite himself, Jaejoong cried. Shoulders heaving as the dam that contained his feelings all those years broke, releasing a tsunami of emotions, this time in the form of tears. And you won’t die. You can’t. Yunho chuckled, a weak, feeble laugh that sounded more like a choked cough more than anything, and it took Jaejoong back to how many months ago when he had reunited with Changmin. Half, huh? And here I thought Changmin wasn’t much competition. I love you. I love you. -- There had been no such thing as a deferral. All the rumors were just that—rumors. At the end of the day, they were clones, and nothing but clones. At least, that was how the “normals†viewed them, and how the “normals†demanded that they be viewed. Sometimes, Jaejoong wonders if all those clones had more human in them than even their own creators. -- “Donor number 2612, please follow me.†Jaejoong stands up from his seat, obliging. He feels a little naked ambling along the busy corridor, wearing a mere hospital gown. He glances at the various other donors, and he even recognizes some of them from his old school. He attempts to wave at Kangin, but then the surgeon tells him to get inside the room, and he follows. The room is blinding, white lights bounding off the tiles and walls directly into his eye. Squinting, he maneuvers his way onto the hospital bed, relieved when he’s finally on. As he lies there, he closes his eyes, and automatically his sense of hearing heightens. He’s never going to make it. It’s just the first donation. Relax. You saw his medical records. He’s too weak! He’ll die right after this! Jaejoong breathes deeply. Good. It’s better that way. Maybe then he can sooner see Yunho and Changmin, wherever they are. And wherever they are, Jaejoong hopes they’re together, safe and sound. Maybe Yoochun, whoever he is, is there, too. As the technician fixes the mask over Jaejoong, Jaejoong closes his eyes, allowing the gas to slowly lull him into unconsciousness. He can only hope that it’s forever. Yunho, Changmin, wait for me. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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