⌞juncture⌝
jongin247:
jongin hears the trepidation in the other’s voice, notes the tremor, the intense shame, and he knows that tone all too well. not in something he himself has experienced though, of course though—death is not something he takes shame in. but in others, yes. he’s heard of men speak of killings they’ve carried out, as though it physically pained them to do so, and there’s a similar vibration in jaejoong’s words that jongin would recognize even in his sleep. he lets it go though, doesn’t pursue it, knowing better than to push such an issue.
he watches with continued fascination as jaejoong takes the tea to the table and offers jongin a place to sit, to which he accepts graciously, maybe a bit too casually. he flops down into the chair and stretches out as though he owns it, the same way he does for everything, a slightly smirk still playing across his lips. he laughs at jaejoong’s comment about his allure only increasing, certain it’s probably some sort of backhanded insult, but nevermind about that. jongin can play along. “i’m so beautiful i grant sight, i’m sure,” he chuckles. “it’s a very good thing you’re not entirely blind then, isn’t it?”
his smile fades slightly as his parents are mentioned, and he schools his face into a slightly more somber expression, remembering that he ought to be sad still, broken up, inconsolable. he’s not good at reminding himself of things like that, forcing himself to pretend to be a victim of circumstances, but the concern on jaejoong’s face is real enough. “ahh… yes, well.” he nods and averts his eyes, looking down at the tea for a moment. “it was so sudden, i guess i’m still trying to cope and be certain that it even actually happened. it might sound awful, but it’s not quite real for me just yet. i keep expecting my mother to call like she always does. or did.” he furrows his brow, hoping he seems as sorrowful as any normal person might.
Death hangs heavy in the air. For Jaejoong it feels like death plagues his existence, in the actions that have lead to so much of the place he remains in. He killed someone, his good friend and his lover's brother, and he can never get that life back no matter if he would trade in his own for it or not. And Jongin now sits with the scent of death surrounding him as well, and Jaejoong wishes he could take that sorrow from him, could feed the pain into himself.
A fleeting smile slips across his expression as Jongin makes himself comfortable, seeming like he belonged there. Jaejoong didn't mind, he found everything about Jongin charming after all. “I'm quite glad about that, for many reasons. Your face being the prominent one of the moment,” he teased.
Jaejoong nods as Jongin speaks. He can't imagine what he's going through, can't imagine the horror of parents being burned out of existence and somehow having to piece everything together. “It's not awful. It's...a lot to take in all at once, so it's normal to still be in a state of shock,” he assures him, frowning slightly. He reaches and takes Jongin's hand, squeezing briefly, “I'm very sorry. If you'd like to talk about it, or if not, or if there's anything I can do for you...I will. Even if we haven't spoken in some time, you're always a sweet boy, you don't deserve this.”
