Indented

Title : Indented.
Author : dystopialights (dystopialights)
Pairings : Yunho x Changmin
Genre : pg-13
Summary :
Changmin is annoyed, and officially not talking to Yunho. Yunho is clueless, and probably going to have a panic attack.


Disclaimer ; I own nothing. Plot and story belongs to : dystopialights @ http://dystopialights.livejournal.com/3176.html#cutid1

It was ridiculously hot the afternoon that Changmin stalked into their living room and threw a book onto the floor. Junsu had been playing video games while Yunho had been reading the latest scene from the script – a relative quiet moment in their usually busy schedules – but the loud THWACK of the book (textbook? That thing was freaking massive) made them both jump.

“Uh…” Yunho stared at Changmin, but the younger boy’s face was bleak, dry and not amused.

“Hyung, you’re being really annoying.”

The leader tilted his head towards Changmin, not quite understanding. “Umm…”

“Oh, and I’ve decided I’m mad at you.”

“I, uh – what?”

Yunho looked to Junsu, but the other singer looked just as confused, “Is this a joke?”

Wrong thing – Changmin’s neutral expression morphed into a full-on glare, the kind of look that made you think twice, reconsider, and then back the fuck up.

“No, it’s not. You’re being really annoying and I’d appreciate it if you stop.”

“But, what am I doing?” he asked, a little desperate, because Changmin looked like he had put on his Serious Intimidation Face – and it never failed to make Yunho quail inside; feel he was a kid that had done something very very Bad. He wracked his memory but he couldn’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary, especially something that might have annoyed his younger lover, but–

Changmin interrupted his thoughts with a loud sigh and a hard kkkkk. “I’m annoyed enough as it. Consider me officially angry and not talking to you until you stop being so oblivious.”

“But–!” He flailed, and that short interval was all the taller boy needed to turn on his heel and stalk back out of the room. Yunho stared after him, mouth hanging open. “What.”

“Don’t ask me,” Junsu said, turning back to his video game, “I think he’s crazy even when he isn’t pissed.”

The dancer-turned-actor pouted, his eyes drifting to the floor. “I think he dented the floor.”

“Seriously, hyung, that’s the least of your worries.”


By the time night fell, Yunho was starting to realize he was seriously should be worried. He still had no idea why Changmin was so pissed at him, especially considering that nothing had been wrong before. He, Changmin and Junsu had been back in Korea for the week and it had been actually quite relaxing, what with the suspension of their activities. Not that that was a good thing, of course, but he was still busy filming and it was nice to be able to really focus on one thing for a while.

The first half of the week Changmin and him had even had a date, which they hadn’t gotten to do in ages. Junsu had gone out with his brother so they cooked in and had a picnic on the floor of the living room. Yunho had burned some of the food because he’d gotten a call from one of the drama’s PD’s and left the oven on too long, but Changmin hadn’t complained at all – a true sign of the younger man’s love. Afterwards Yunho had convinced Changmin to go on a romantic walk through the park. They’d ended up playing some soccer, too, and Yunho had totally won all the games.

They finished with some desert back at the apartment, a movie, some kissing – of course, they couldn’t do without the kissing – before moving back to the bedroom. Yunho had wanted to get to get to sleep early that night for the early-morning scene the next day, so instead of carrying the kissing further they’d snuggled up and talked and fell asleep into each other’s arms.

Yunho sighed just remembering it. It had been so romantic–

“Yah, that face is creepy. Turn it off, please.”

Junsu broke into his thoughts, coming into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Yunho was hiding in the kitchen because Changmin was in their room and had more-or-less(-or-more) told Yunho to get out or I will punch you out the door. Yunho had been kind enough to comply. Now he was stuck sitting, hunched, on a stool at midnight, eating from his emergency tub of Mint Chocolate Chunk. Any more of this and he’d have to move on to Coffee Coffee BuzzBuzzBuzz, and god knew he didn’t anything else to keep him up at night.

“He’s only been ‘angry at you’ five hours, Yunho-hyung. This is kind of pathetic.”

“This is not ‘kind of pathetic’,” Yunho pointed a spoon at him, sending half-melted flecks of ice cream across the kitchen. He watched them land all over the floor, and all he could think of was that Changmin hated when he made a mess in the kitchen. “This is really pathetic.”

“Pretty much,” Junsu nodded in solemn agreement. He took one long gulp and walked out of the kitchen, slapping Yunho on the back as he went, “Make sure to clean up, will you? You know Changminnie hates it when it gets messy in here.”

Yunho ended up falling asleep slouched along the counter, a whole episode’s worth of script scattered beneath him. He only woke up – uncomfortable, with a twinge in his neck and drool all over one cheek – when someone came up behind him and poked him. Hard.

He grumbled crossly, slowly lifting himself out of his awkward position. Still sore and half-asleep, he turned a glare on the person that so rudely poked him.

It was Changmin. Of course.

Yunho’s glare wilted under the force of Changmin’s own. The other singer looked, if possible, even more angry than he had been the night before. “You slept here?” He bit out, his tone accusing.

“…Maybe?” Yunho winced.

“I can’t believe you. After everything I said…” He cut himself off, fuming silently for a moment, and Yunho knew that Changmin had cut himself off from Yunho. He was probably ranting in his head, of course, saying all the things he wanted to say but was smart enough to never say aloud. But he was rational like that, never letting words get out of hand or letting his emotions too free–

“I think you should go now. It’s 5:10 and someone should be coming to pick you up soon.”

Yunho sighed. He worried about the younger boy, who was sometimes so closed off, even to Yunho who he (well, used to) claim to love. So sometimes he really wished Changmin would yell and express himself. And at least then he would know what he did in the first place.

“Can’t we just talk about this?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you don’t leave in the next three seconds, I think I might do damage to something the stylist won’t be able to fix.”

“Er-right. Leaving then.”

He called Jaejoong on his break. The other singer might have been in Japan and busy with activities, but Yunho had been thinking over yesterday and that morning so much during filming that he’d barely made it through his scenes. They’d probably have to do the last one all over again, he thought mournfully, hating that this thing was affecting him so, and that this thing even existed in the first place.

The phone rang twice before Jaejoong picked up. ‘Yeoboseyo?’

“Joongie? I have a problem.”

‘Yunho… is everything okay?’

He pouted regardless that Jaejoong couldn’t see him. “No.” He’d get the message.

‘What’s wrong?’

“Minnie’s mad at me.”

‘What did you do? And why are you whispering?’

“I don’t know.” Didn’t know what he did to Minnie, anyway. He knew why he was whispering – he was hiding in a closet so the PD wouldn’t find him. But Jaejoong didn’t need to know that.

‘Is mad at you for a reason you don’t know, or mad at you for no reason?’ Jaejoong sounded so rational, it made Yunho smile. Jaejoong would have an answer. As much as Yunho loved Changmin, there were certain things about his lover that only Jaejoong understood (most of which revolved around random bursts of violence and Yunho was more than happy not to understand anyway).

“He just said I’m being annoying and is not talking to me until I stop being annoying. What do I do??”

‘Hmm.’

“I think he’s really mad at me, Joongie. He’s threatened to hurt me twice in the last twenty-four hours… he hasn’t threatened me like that, off-air, since… since forever!”

‘…Really? Is that true?’

“Of course. I’m not you. Or Junsu… Well, I mean… there was that time. You know, the one when he was already all upset and then we ate the last of the leftovers from his mom’s visit? But he was really threatening to kill all of us and anyway, it was before we got together so it doesn’t even count…” he trailed off. He tried not to think about that time to hard.

‘Yeah… I remember that.’ Jaejoong voice dropped like he was reliving a past trauma, and they shared a moment of silence. ‘You… didn’t do anything like that, did you?’

“No! I didn’t do anything! I was just reading the script – like usual – and then he came in and dented the floor.”

‘He… dented the floor.’

“Yeah.”

‘…’

“…You still there Joongie?”

‘I’m going to kill him.’

“Er, please don’t. I still have to figure out what I did wrong,” Yunho pouted

‘Then do it quick, figure out what you did and make up, because we’re coming back in four days and then you’re going to have to say your goodbyes.’

“It’s not really that big of a dent. Really. I mean, it’s more like a chip than anything.”

‘Just a chip!?’

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. We’ve already got someone coming to fix it, so it’s okay, it’s fine. But I still don’t know–”

‘Don’t know? I’ll tell you want you don’t know. You don’t know how long it took to convince management to get us a place with fancy hardwood floors, instead of that cheap imitation linoleum! You don’t know how long I looked for the perfect wood for our goddamn perfect feet, do you? You hear that, Yunho?? You–’

“…Yah, I hear you,” Yunho sighed, but he didn’t think Jaejoong was listening. Because Jaejoong was mad, and when Jaejoong was mad he stayed mad, and now that he was mad at Changmin, Jaejoong would fight with Changmin and Yunho would have to break it up and Changmin would probably find out that Yunho told Jaejoong in the first place about Changmin denting the floor and then Changmin would be even madder at Yunho. And Yunho still didn’t know why Changmin was mad at all.

His life sucked.

Jaejoong was still ranting in the background, something about Oak or Teak or some kind of imported wood that Yunho had never even known was in their apartment. He checked his watch – the PD was probably looking for him now.

"Jaejoong? Joongie?”

‘–and when I get through with him he’ll understand just how nice that floor is, after I grind his face into it–’

“I have to go now, okay? Rant to Yoochun for a bit, he’ll listen to you.”

‘–and you don’t even– no. You know what, Yunho, don’t make up with him, he’s not even worth it!’

"Thanks, that helps a lot.”

‘Oh, you’re welcome. Glad to help.’
Yunho hung up with a roll of his eyes and leaned back to bang his head against the wall. He hit a broom instead, knocking it askew and sending a shower of cleaning supplies down on him.

He smelled like disinfectant for the rest of the day.

Two days passed and Changmin hadn’t spoken to him since their little feud in the kitchen. Except, it couldn’t really be called a feud, because feuding implied fighting, which they hadn’t, and a grudge, which only one of them had. Yunho had been glared at, avoided, and flat-out ignored – for two days straight – and it was driving him batshit. Because this wasn’t a fight – they weren’t fighting – so it wasn’t serious enough to cause him any real heartache.

But it was damn sure enough to drive him batshit – twice over. He was willing to ride out the anger – but exactly how long was Changmin planning on making him wait?

The problem, though, was the fact that Changmin seemed perfectly fine. Fine! He didn’t act like he was upset, Yunho knew from pestering Junsu; it was only when Yunho was in the room that the storm clouds would gather overhead and threaten to bring a the fury of a thousand severely rabid hurricanes down upon their heads. The rest of the time he was just plain old loveable gleefully sarcastic Changmin.

How could the boy be fine? Yunho was sleeping in Jaejoong’s empty room, even though the air conditioner didn’t work right in it and his track suit made him all uncomfortably sweaty and sticky – and not to mention lonely – as he slept. And he missed waking up with Changmin in the morning and talking about his schedule, going over lines together so that Yunho could be prepared for the day and Changmin would get practice for his upcoming project. They would eat breakfast together and then Changmin would go to acting lessons or the studio but they would call each other over their lunch breaks and kiss each other when they got back home. And Junsu or Jaejoong or Yoochun – whoever was there – would roll their eyes and threaten to take pictures that would ruin both of their images because they were just so gross and mushy together.

He missed being gross and mushy.

Day four and Yunho was at his wits end. Changmin was spending more time out than at home, and Yunho had no idea where he was going. He eventually broke down and went on one of those stalker-forums that he didn’t like to go to and found out Changmin had been visiting the gyms.

That wasn’t that bad, he tried to console himself; the likelihood of Changmin working out to go through with certain threats wasn’t very high. He probably just wanted to look good for his upcoming role. And Changmin looked good when he was working out – the pictures were beyond grainy, probably from someone’s cell phone, but Yunho could draw on memory to fill in the gaps.

He stared at the pictures probably a little too long; when he closed his eyes the image was floating on the inside of his eyelids, the colors all inverted, and all it did was remind Yunho of all that he was missing out on.

(Because, honestly, gross and mushy aside, he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks and he was just trying not to think about that.)

He pouted and closed out of the screen – but not before he saw a rather disturbing picture of Jaejoongs’s head photoshopped onto the body of a female body-builder, and dear lord would he have trouble getting that image out of his head now.

He started fiddling around with his keyboard. It had been a while since he had played. He and Changmin had been working on a song, creating the tune together while Changmin wrote the lyrics, but recently he’d just been too busy to work on it. He hoped that, once this was over, they could start working on it again.

His hands drifted over the keys. He wasn’t as skilled as Yoochun or Jaejoong but he knew how to play well enough, and enjoyed it too, which often times made all the difference. He started going through chords, fingers twisting over each other as he followed the simple progressions. From there he moved to a couple tunes, trying out different keys and variations.

He was startled from his playing when he heard the door open. Changmin took half a step in and eyed Yunho warily. Yunho stared back.

“Heard you playing,” Changmin said eventually.

“Yeah…” Yunho said. He was happy Changmin was talking to him but the way Changmin was looking at him told him their ‘fight’ was far from over.

“Why?” Changmin said.

“Why what…?” Yunho asked hesitantly.

“Why are you playing?”

That sounded like a trick question. Yunho gulped. “Because… uh, I, wanted to?”

Changmin’s expression didn’t change. Yunho had a mini-panic-attack inside his head.

“Because… because… I got an idea for a song?”

No change. He gulped, his eyes darting around for inspiration. His eyes alighted on the CD management had sent over that morning – Taeyeon and Sunny’s duet for the drama soundtrack.

“Because I wanted to write a song about Cha Bong Goon!”

Well, that was kind of dumb. He didn’t want to do that – didn’t mean to say that. But at least it was an answer.

Not the right one.

Definitely not the right one.

Changmin grit his teeth and looked Yunho up and down. “Fuckhead,” he hissed, and slammed the door behind.

Yunho’s jaw dropped. Changmin never cursed like that. He was still gaping when Junsu opened the door a minute later.

“Hyung, Changmin is trashing the bathroom – and I’m not going to be the one to tell Jaejoong why we have to replace the toilet paper holder again.”

Yunho held in his tears, but was pretty sure this should be allowed as one of the three times a man was allowed to cry.


Day six – and then Jaejoong landed.

Like an unholy terror held he swept through the house, inspecting every little thing that could have possibly been damaged, and they were all too busy having their asses handed to them to worry about any relationship woes.


Only Yoochun escaped the tirade, as he had been with Jaejoong in Japan and sided with Jaejoong as soon as they got to the house. Yunho at one point pleaded with Yoochun to calm the eldest down, but Yoochun shook him off.


“I had to deal with his crazy frantic ass the entire time we were in Japan. Trust me, there was no Melody and fucking Harmony going on over there. You deal with him now.”


Fortunately the chip in the wood floor had already been fixed the day prior, as well as the toilet paper holder. And after the rest of the house passed Jaejoong’s thorough scrutiny, he backed off.


“Now that you understand just how much our home means to me,” he said imperiously, “you better not forget it.”


They’d all agreed readily, even Changmin who looked a tad bit dazed. Afterwards Yunho went to approach the youngest, hoping that he would accept some comfort – but the young man beat a quick retreat to his room and Yunho was left standing, one hand half-raised and his ear still ringing from when Jaejoong had slapped him on the side of his head.


Junsu left for his parent’s shortly after, muttering about unfair treatment. Jaejoong went out for a drive to “cool off a little more” – in the words of their manager, who ushered the lead singer out the door after somehow managing to make himself scarce for the whole ordeal.


That left Yunho alone with Yoochun, who had his laptop on and was watching some anime. Yunho collapsed and leaned against him, tugging out one of his earbuds.


“I need to talk t’ ya.”


“What?” Yoochun asked, only half-paying attention.


“’Need advice.”


“Uh-huh?”


“Did Jaejoongie tell ya?”


“About your troubles in paradise?”


“Yah.”


“Do you still not know why he’s mad at you?”


“No,” Yunho pouted, puffing out his cheeks. He leaned his head further on Yoochun’s shoulder and the younger man sighed, setting his laptop aside. He put on a hand on Yunho’s head and he basked in the comfort. “He’s said one sentence t’ me in six days. ’N he called me a fuckhead.”


“Classy.”


“I don’t get it! What am I doin’ wrong?”


“Well you’re talking in that ridiculous dialect. Maybe he thinks it’s dumb.”


Yunho glared at Yoochun, but seeing as how his head was buried in Yoochun’s shoulder it was more like he glared at Yoochun’s Adam’s apple. “It’s for the show. Just… tryin’ to get into character, yah?”


“And sound like an idiot?”


“That’s kinda the point…” Yunho grumbled. Then he huffed. “I just really want to do well in this. I want to do my best. If keeping the act up at home helps, then…”


“I get it,” Yoochun said, running his hand through Yunho’s hair once more.


“…Do you think if I stopped doing the dialect Changmin would start talking to me?”


“You’re so whipped.”


“Shut up.”


Yoochun laughed softly.






Yunho found it hard to sleep after the seventh day. Jaejoong had come back to claim his room so Changmin graciously let Yunho return to theirs – but then Changmin moved to Junsu’s. Yunho didn’t know what was worse, having to sleep in another bed with Changmin or having to sleep in his own bed without Changmin.


It had been a full week since Changmin had begun not talking to him, and Yunho was no closer to figuring out was wrong. Filming had picked up and any free time he might have had to search for answers was rapidly disappearing.


They were filming the scenes at the mental hospital and Yunho was determined to do all his own stunts. That, however, required him to spend more time on set, training and prepping and filming. It was hard work and even if it was a bit silly (which Yunho had to admit to – because, really, amnesia? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Changmin kept scoffing each time they presented him with a new script) ­he wanted to take it seriously.


So what if it was stressful, and eating away at his already-scarce free time? He knew hectic schedules, and they’d all dealt with worse. It was a little more work because he was on his own, without the other five to back him up, but he was managing. Kind of. But, in the end, this was his first time acting and he wanted to – would – do his absolute best.


Changmin would understand that.


Wouldn’t he?


Jaejoong and Yoochun left again for Japan before the week was over. They’d spent most of the time out, however, either with family or friends or lawyers, and when they left not much changed. Junsu still hadn’t come back, even though he somehow managed to refill their voicemail with messages every day. Changmin was still mad.

Yunho was busy all day, most of the nights, and when he came back he wanted to do nothing more than fall asleep. Most nights he did, collapsing onto the bed – or couch, sometimes, when he just didn’t feel like going the extra fifteen feet.

Tonight was one of those nights, and Yunho trudged into the house well into the morning hours. He didn’t even take off his shoes at the door. A light was on in the kitchen but he didn’t even bother investigating. He dropped his bag somewhere in the hallway and schluffed off his jacket.

He face-planted into the couch and didn’t move for three hours.

Yunho came to and his first thought was that his neck hurt. The second was that his shoes were still on, and he hoped no one had drawn on his face. The third was that the members who would have pulled such a prank were across the ocean right now, so he was safe.

The fourth was that there was someone sitting beside the couch. He could feel the couch dip somewhere right above his head. It was probably what woke him up in the first place.

He opened his eyes and rolled enough to see who was sitting next to him, not that he had any doubt as to who it was.

Funny, that Changmin was ignoring him but always seemed to be the one finding Yunho.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

Changmin looked down on him, and Yunho couldn’t really see his face in the half-light of the room. But it didn’t look like a happy face.

“Thought so,” he said, rolling back so that his face was squished against the cushions. He just felt so tired. Even when his eyes were closed they felt heavy. He wanted to scream or sigh or something but at the same time the thought of not moving again, ever, felt like the much better option.

The couch shifted, rising and Yunho thought Changmin had left but then there was the weight again, and he heard the faint hisssssclick of the television turning on.

Changmin didn’t like to watch T.V. at night. There was never anything on, he always said, except for infomercials for people too rich to have anything better to do and porn for people too poor to buy the good stuff.

But right then Yunho didn’t particularly care why Changmin was watching T.V. – in the same room with him, no less. He was just too damn tired. He just wanted to get an hour or two more sleep before he had to get up again. He was squirming, trying to get comfortable when a hand on his head stopped him.

“Stop it,” Changmin said sharply. “Just go to bed – you’re taking up too much room.”

“I don’t wanna move,” Yunho pouted.

“Get up,” Changmin shoved a bit, “You can even have our bed.”

Tempting, Yunho thought. He could finally use his pillows and his side of the room without tiptoeing around and fearing the wrath of his lover. But he really, really just didn’t want to move.

“No.”

“Damn it, move!” And he shoved even harder that time, almost throwing Yunho off the couch.

Yunho lifted his head and glared. “I’m sleeping, here. Couch is common ground – if you’re really that annoyed, go and not talk to me somewhere else.” And Yunho put his head back down.


And Changmin shoved yet again, this time actually throwing Yunho off the couch.


Yunho hit the ground hard and almost hit his head on the coffee table. He shot up and looked at Changmin, whose face was carefully neutral. He felt, for the first time, justifiably angry. He scrambled to stand, towering over his lover and waving his arms around to express his ire.


“Seriously, Changmin, fuck you. I have done nothing wrong and you’re childish actions are just plain… plain… childish! I want to sleep, and so I will take our fucking bed, whether you want me to or not. And don’t you come near me,” he growled. He stalked away, not looking at Changmin. He grabbed his bag and kicked off his shoes and went to their room – and made sure to slam the door behind him.


And then, standing in their room and breathing hard with anger, Yunho sighed. He leaned back against the door, sliding slowly until he was sitting down. He waited, but Changmin didn’t come after him. The television was still on. He laughed wryly.


Now they were fighting.

…However, in line with Yunho being oh-so whipped and pathetic, he’d gotten over his anger by morning and was back to being desperately afraid that he’d massively, royally screwed things up with Changmin.

“What if he never talks to me agaaaain?” he whined to Jaejoong over the phone. The drama’s stylist was hovering over him with a frown, trying to get at the hair blocked by his cell-phone.

On the other end of the line Jaejoong sounded equally harassed. “Of course he’ll forgive you, you had every right – no, I wanted it like that – to be mad, if he really did hit you.”

“It wasn’t so much as a hit as a shove…” Yunho hedged.

“Don’t defend him, fool. This whole thing has gone on long enough – ow, that was my eye, what the hell–”


“But, this is the longest fight we’ve ever had, and now if he thinks I’m mad at him it’ll go on even longer! I don’t want to be fighting anymore!”


“I know, Yunho. But you need to actually talk to him if you want to clear anything up. You two have the apartment to yourselves – take advantage of it! And make-up before we get there, preferably. Hearing you two go at it is almost worse than hearing you whine about not going at it.”


“Jaejoong,” he said pointedly. There were too many people around to have that sort of conversation. The stylist was still standing way too close, and he wasn’t sure if her two-inch nails or evil-eye glare scared him more.


“What, it’s true. I’m just trying – what? I don’t know, where did you put it – to give you the advice – can’t you do it up, like this? – you wanted – what, no, I said–”


“You sound really busy Jae… is this a good – ack, time?” he coughed, attacked suddenly by a thick cloud of hairspray.


“No no, damnit, I will not – No, of course it’s a good time! We’re just rehearsing in a few minutes and – what the hell, no, Yoochun, get that away from me–”


Yunho waved his hand around his face, attempting to clear the air. Somewhere beyond the spray the stylist was smirking at him. “Er, I’m gonna go.”


“ –I told you, I don’t know where it is–”


“Bye, Jae.”


“–why can’t you just–”


Yunho hung up, and he didn’t feel any better.






Yunho didn’t see Changmin for five days – he was barely at home, and in the few hours the singer-turned-actor was, it was as if he was living alone in their big apartment. There were no lights on, no sign of a slept-in bed or new left-overs in the fridge. He began to think that maybe he was alone, that Changmin had gone back home to his parents to stay.


That he had left Yunho alone, in a way he had promised he wouldn’t.


The thought plagued him, distracting him during filming and in meetings with management and producers, during his Evisu photoshoots and in his down time when he should have been reviewing his scripts. It made him feel stressed and harried, overworked and deserted. In six years of working constantly side-by-side with four other boys, to be the only one left was lonelier than he could have imagined.


And he was back to having trouble sleeping. He caught no more than scant minutes here and there, between a packed schedule and hours spent staring at the ceiling.


In the end, that was probably what did it, more than anything.


In the end, Yunho remembered the morning in a blur. He remembered drifting through make-up and hair, working through the first scenes of the day. He remembered listening to the PDs comments – although he didn’t remember what the comments were. He didn’t remember the drive to location. He didn’t remember walking up to the set, or finding any of his marks.


He didn’t remember falling. And, even if you were to ask him later, he definitely didn’t remember any ‘facial muscles contracting.’






Both Yunho and Changmin were morning people, and this worked well for them, as Yunho had to be up to go over the morning schedule and, had Changmin not also been predisposed to waking early, there could have definitely been conflict. As it was –and when they had actually been sleeping in the same bed – it was Changmin that tended to wake first. He always seemed to wake a few minutes before the alarm and be there to ease Yunho into wakefulness as well.


For a fraction of a second, a moment stolen in between the layers of sleep Yunho was currently rising from, he wondered if that was what was happening now.


It only took him the full second to realize where he was – a hospital, with its white walls and stiff beds and sterile smell – and in that second he wondered if maybe he was there because Changmin had put him there.


He had this thought because the younger man was currently hovering over him, an absolutely livid look on his face. He’d woken Yunho up just by coming into the room, his loud steps dragging Yunho to the thin surface of his consciousness, but it was the hand suddenly wrapped around his that made him open his eyes.


“Hey,” he said softly, not quite lucid enough to acknowledge Changmin’s fury. He was still so tired. His throat felt dry. “What happened?”


Changmin’s expression didn’t change, narrowed eyes and flared nostrils; when he spoke his voice was rough. “You passed out on set, you idiot. Doctor said you’re suffering from exhaustion.”


“Oh,” Yunho said, lowering his eyes. He looked at Changmin’s hand wound in his. Their hands were practically the same size, fitting together large and awkward and perfect. Despite his apparent anger, Changmin’s thumb ran soothingly over the back of Yunho’s knuckle.


He wanted to smile, he wanted to squeeze Changmin’s hand and show him he was alright – because he knew Changmin. He knew how much his lover worried, even if he didn’t show it in the right way, or even at all.


Yunho shifted his arm and he felt a twinge halfway up his forearm. An IV needle was pushed into a vein, taped down to his skin. It was not the first time he’d fainted or been in this situation... He remembered the poisoning, and how that had been a time when Changmin had obviously worried – and even more obviously furious. His younger lover had had dreams about beating antifans in the face and had split open a finger when he punched the wall in his sleep.


It had been a hard time for all of them; he didn’t want that again. He didn’t want any more arguments or distress or unhappiness.


Yunho sighed. “I’m sure it’s not that ba–”


“–Bullshit,” Changmin cut in, his words pouring out in a frantic rush. “You look awful. Have you been eating? You better have been eating. I’ve seen the piles of food those fangirls have been leaving at the shoot, so you can’t say no one has been feeding you.”


“I’ve been eating, I promise,” Yunho replied indulgently, but Changmin kept going.


“Is the schedule too much? Is that it? I mean we’re used to hard schedules like that but shooting is different and it’s just you and I can talk to–”


“The schedule’s fine. Like you said, nothing I’m not used to.”


Changmin seemed to suddenly deflate, his voice going low even as his hand tightened around Yunho’s. “Then what is it? Why would you make me worry like this?”


Yunho wanted to laugh – trust Min to hold a grudge and make it about himself. Instead Yunho shook his head


“Sorry. Will you accept my apology?”


He said it with the same soft smile that he knew Changmin loved, the one that Yunho always used when he wanted to get his way. He hadn’t gotten to use this smile in a while; not on Changmin, anyway.


His boyfriend huffed and, with another squeeze of his hand, bent over so that his forehead rested against Yunho’s.


“Do you promise not to be stupid and annoying like this ever ever again?”


“Promise to stop me from doing something stupid before you start not talking to me?” Yunho quipped.


Changmin sniffed haughtily but there was a smile lurking underneath, Yunho could just tell. “You should have known when we got together, I don’t tolerate stupid.”


“You should have known when we got together, I can’t stand not being with you.”


The younger man scowled. “Ugh. Hyung, I feel gross just hearing you talk like that.”


Yunho smiled. “You know, I missed being gross. And mushy. With you. I couldn’t sleep without you by my side, without you in my arms, without kissing you goodnight…” he sing-songed.


Changmin lifted his head and made a kkkkk of frustration. Yunho had missed that kkkkk sound.


“You’re such a sap. No wonder I was mad at you.”


“Was?” Yunho said hopefully.


“Was,” Changmin agreed grudgingly, mumbling, “how can I be mad at you when you’re so pathetic like this.”


“I am pretty pathetic.”


“My point exactly.”


“….Am I allowed to ask why you were mad at me in the first place?”


“Stupid and annoying, hyung, we’ve been over this before.”


“Yeah, but what did I do?” he asked pleadingly, as innocently, as hapless as possible. He raised his IV-ridden arm to prove his helplessness.


“…Did you really not know?” Changmin asked slowly.


“No!” he cried, “Did you think I was lying when I said didn’t understand? Or that I wouldn’t have done something about it to change it??”


Changmin frowned and worked his jaw. He opened his mouth to say something but just then a nurse walked in and came quickly up to his bed, clipboard in hand. Changmin let go of Yunho’s hand and stepped back.


“Oh good, Jung-sshi, you’re awake. How are you feeling,” the woman asked, a pleasant but distracted smile on her face as she checked the IV-drip and fussed with the machine. She was an older woman and didn’t seem to recognize them, which at this point was a blessing.


“Much better. When can I be discharged?”


She clucked her tongue. “You’re suffering from exhaustion, Jung-sshi, and you need to rest. You’ve been asleep for several hours and we’re giving you fluids that will help your condition.”


“But when can I leave?”


“In a hurry, aren’t we? I’ll get the doctor to come back up and he can clear you, I’m sure. Do you want your family contacted?”


“No, no,” Yunho said. “I’ve got someone here with me.”


It was then that she seemed to notice Changmin, who stood awkwardly at the bedside. She gave him an equal pleasant-but-bland smile, “That’s nice. It’s good to have some support. You must be a good friend of Jung-sshi to come so quickly.”


Changmin coughed nervously. “Yes ma’am. We, uh… work together.”


Yunho rolled his eyes but resisted a smile. It was the easiest way to explain what they were to each other – and, in a way, it was working together that had brought them together in the first place. He stopped resisting and flashed a smile to Changmin when the nurse wasn’t looking.


Changmin coughed again but stepped forward, closer to the bed. Yunho waited until he was close enough to reach his fingers out, hooking them in his belt loop and tugging him even closer. Changmin blushed but complied – they looked to the nurse, who was writing something down on her chart and not paying any attention to them.


Yunho gave Changmin a sly smirk and, keeping his hand half-hidden under the blanket, let his fingers wander up from his belt, under his shirt, over the lip of his jeans. The pads of his fingers just barely touched the sharp rise of his hipbones, caressing the soft skin he knew was a sensitive spot.


He got the reaction he was hoping for; a shiver, a jump of muscle under his fingertips. Changmin coughed again.


The nurse looked up, “You should get that checked out, dear. You might be getting sic–”


“No, I’m fine,” Changmin grit out. “Just a sma–” he coughed as Yunho brushed his hip again, “small cough. It’s nothing.”


She looked at him once more skeptically before turning back to writing. The moment she looked down Changmin took a step back and slapped at Yunho’s hand, glaring at him warningly.


Yunho just smiled. That was the sort of anger he could deal with.






Changmin didn’t speak to him the entire drive back to the apartment, and Yunho grew worried. Thoughts kept going through his head and he wondered – maybe he had screwed it up again. Maybe he had pushed it too far; really made Changmin mad again. He never had said that he had forgiven Yunho, had he? He hadn’t actually confirmed it.


Oh god. Yunho had fucked things up.


He felt dizzy. The scenery outside the car kept blurring, and all he could think was god damn, god damn oh fucking fuck me.


They pulled in to the underground parking lot beneath their apartment complex, Changmin swerving around the lot. He always drove faster when he was upset.


Yunho was thinking he might have a panic attack. This sort of up-and-down emotion couldn’t be good for his health, right? He’d just gotten out of the hospital; he didn’t want to go back twice in one day.


Changmin parked and when he turned off the engine they were left in sudden, tense silence.


“Umm…” Yunho began, but Changmin cut him off.


“You shut up. Seriously, everything you say is nonsense.”


“Thanks,” Yunho grumbled. Any more of this and his self-esteem was going to begin to suffer.


“And now that we are in private, I am going to try and help you figure out why I was so mad at you, you idiot.”


‘Was’ - still past tense. That was good. Maybe Yunho could stop feeling so bad–


“-Because if you keep trying to think this hard, you’re going to hurt yourself and after today we don’t need you suffering from any more brain damage.”


Or maybe not.


Changmin continued. “Now listen – and try to keep up. When the others finally filed the case we agreed that no matter what you and I were together in this, and even though it would be hard we would see it through. And maybe we could actually use this break as some time for us.”


“Yeah…”


“And did that happen?”


“No…?” Yunho answered hesitantly. It was, at least, certainly true. They’d spent only a handful of minutes together in the past few weeks.


“Right. And why do you think that is? Other than me not talking to you.”


So Yunho made sure to think very carefully. After a few seconds he ventured; “The drama…?”


“Exactly!” Changmin said snidely. “How do you think I felt when filming started and suddenly I was not spending time with Jung Yunho, loving boyfriend, but freaking Cha Bong Goon, obnoxious idiot!”


Yunho flailed. “W-Wha–”


“I understand most of it, Yunho I really do – I know how hard you are working, how you want to do well – do you think that I’ll be any different when I start filming?” He took a deep breath. “But there is such a thing as taking it too far and you, hyung, have taken it too far.”


“I’m just–”


“Trying to get into character? Getting into character does not require you to wear the same track suit four days in a row. Or do nothing but read scripts all day. Or talk in a ridiculous accent every hour of the day. Or ignore your boyfriend at the end of a date after making out for over an hour. Or–”


“Okay, okay, I get it.” Yunho pouted. So maybe he had gotten a little wrapped up in it. He could maybe see how Changmin felt annoyed – maybe even neglected. But that still didn’t mean that he should have abandoned Yunho, too. “I see your point.”


“Finally.”


“But why couldn’t you have just said something?”


“Because I can be dumb too!” Changmin exploded, throwing his hands in the air. “And by the time I realized I was being a bit out of line you had gotten even worse. Every time I came to talk to you the drama kept popping up. I could see how you were letting it affect you and you were acting like a kicked puppy and it would just set me off again.”


“Oh.”


“Yeah, oh. It just pissed me off that you got so… so lost in it! Look at you, Yunho! You look horrible, and thin and tired, and… and I just brought you back from the hospital. Do you know how scared I was when manager-hyung called me!?”


“It’s not like I meant for it to happen,” Yunho muttered.


Changmin sighed and dropped his head back against the seat. “I know. That doesn’t mean it was fun to watch.”


“Wasn’t fun to live either. I haven’t been sleeping well without you,” he added, turning on Changmin with soft eyes. Kicked puppy Yunho may be, but Changmin had a soft spot for puppies – he owned Mangdoongie, for goodness sakes. He’d been wearing his Serious Intimidation Face for far too long, and Yunho could see the walls crumbling.

“Aiiish don’t give me that look. Don’t!” The younger man cried, “Oh great, now I just feel like a jerk. Don’t make me feel like a jerk! I am not the jerk in this situation!”

“Minnie…” he whined. “Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

“No! God, why do you have to do this? Yah, you’re still so annoying, I shouldn’t ever have told you, now you’re probably going to get worse–”

“I won’t, I promise!” Yunho responded quickly. “I’ll stop acting at home. I’ll even wash the tracksuit.”

“Have you still not washed it?” Changmin cried again.

“It’s good luck!”

“It’s bad hygiene, is what it is. No wonder you passed out. You’re not exhausted; you’re probably infected with something. Gross.”

“Am not.”

“Yah, whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Where do you want to look first?” he said suggestively.

Changmin didn’t return his smirk. “Don’t think you’re getting any that easy. Infectious diseases or no, you’re still sick and you are going to go upstairs and rest. You are going to get a good night’s sleep and go back to work tomorrow completely well and rested, so you can act you’re pathetic heart out and come back – as you, preferably.”

Yunho smiled, because even if the amazing make-up sex they would be having might be delayed, this was Changmin being caring and it was more than enough to satisfy him. For a little while, anyway.


Changmin took off his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, coming around the side to get the door before Yunho could even reach for the handle.


“I’m really sorry,” he said again, swinging out his legs and looking up at Changmin.


“Quiet you. No more apologies, okay?” And with that Changmin reached for his hand and pulled him up so they were standing face to face. Yunho checked a quick glance over Changmin’s shoulder and knew the other man was doing the same.


No one was around, but Yunho wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move. He didn’t have to wait long, though – Changmin’s hand had never really left his and it was only a few moments before the other singer was tugging him forward into a gentle hug, quiet in the relaxed feel of Changmin’s arms around him but deep in the way he breathed as dug his nose into the side of Yunho’s neck.


“Don’t ever make me worry like that again,” he mumbled.


Yunho’s arms looped around him, hands linking at the small of his back, and he squeezed once. “Promise,” he whispered, kissing his temple.


Yeah, this was enough. This was worth the wait.



(Definitely worth the wait, Yunho amended the next day, when he realized all that not talking had seemingly stored up and Changmin was going to be very very loud during the amazing make-up sex that they were going to have. Even when they had to endure the wrath that befell them after Jaejoong came home that night and barged through the apartment, demanding to check on Yunho, only to interrupt them in the midst of ‘reconciling.’

And yeah, it might have been the shaking of the bed frame during the amazing sex that they’d had that left that dent in the wall–

But oh, it was all worth it.)