Chuck Jung at your service && obvi
the best thing that's ever happened to you.
21 years young. Renegades.
Living to impress Dongwook myself.
Fiercely independent but
there might be someone...
Even when they were like that, having the most important and probably most sincere conversation about them as what could have been called a ‘couple’ if they were into labels or even knew how to label themselves as such, he knew this was long overdue. They should have shared these thoughts and feelings before, but he wasn’t sure why they didn’t.
He had a general idea though.
It had been so difficult for him to decide on whether he should confess to Chuck or not… it took him weeks of actual thinking and pondering with all the pros and the cons, being the cons much more than the pros. Then again, he’d always been a masochist.
When the ‘L’ word slipped out, he knew he was pretty much giving up on hiding anything else. Maybe because it was a strong word, maybe because it scared Chuck and maybe – most likely – because he could count by the fingers of one hand (and not even needing all the fingers) the times he actually said that before.
He closed his eyes for a moment while feeling the redhead’s hands on his hair, massaging gently. That whole situation made him think, wonder about just as many things as Chuck probably wonder too and he would be lying if he told him he never thought about quitting.
He did. Maybe once or twice when he felt so discouraged that the thought actually crossed his mind. Because even without trying, that man had hurt him so much and made him feel so lonely and unwanted.
So why was he staying? Why did he ask such questions and hoped not to know the answers? But he did… He did know the answer and it was always the same, almost like a broken record.
He felt the water making the shampoo disappear and running through his body, and the hands still in his hair, still playing with it. Then, he looked at those same eyes that looked at him seemingly lost and he got lost in them in a split-second.
“I guess I lied when I told you I didn’t want you to change a single thing. I want you to change something. I want you to be happy…with me. Maybe.”
It was asking for a lot. To Chuck, it was like Junsu was asking him for the world... and the world was something the redhead hadn't thought of giving up.
Until now.
He stared into Junsu's eyes and realized right then and there that love wasn't always some blazing inferno in your chest. It didn't always make your heart flutter. It didn't always keep you up at night, grinning and giggling and dreaming.
Sometimes love could be quiet, a tiny little flame that's always been there, just quiet and unable to call attention to itself.
Chuck had been looking for the wrong kind of feeling. He thought love was only supposed to be some intense feeling that made him forget all logic, lose track of all common sense and act like a complete fool.
...yet he'd done all of these things already.
It was just that the feeling that had caused them was tiny and easy to miss, but it had always been there. Just because the flame of his love wasn't wild and out of control didn't mean it was any less important. It still burned brightly, like a tiny star.
Slowly, a smile took over Chuck's face. At first, he hated the idea of loving someone, but now, because he had nothing else to lose, perhaps he could now. Perhaps he could do it with his whole heart. Perhaps he could throw away all of his fear because Junsu had proven time and time and time again that he wasn't going anywhere.
Chuck leaned forward and pressed their lips together gently. Just a soft brush of mouths that was over far too quickly. He leaned towards Junsu's ear and whispered: "I love you, hun."
don't get too attached. i'm still unsure about their mutation, but i'm 99% sure they'll be from venice or vegas. i still have personality and history to think about. but before i even do that, i have to make a final decision about switching over.
Under the hot water, he felt a little more relaxed and as the warmth sunk into his skin, it was if the weight he’d been carrying all along was starting to fall down his skin, dissipating and dissolving in the water. A whole day of worries and pain, blood and mental tiredness was simply disappearing under the spray of the shower.
And just as he started feeling a little more relieved, he wanted Chuck to feel it too. He wanted him to feel lighter and less worried about what was happened to them. No matter what, he wanted to ease his burdens.
The apology caught him by surprise just as he was reaching his hand for the bottle of shampoo that he put on the floor of the shower stall before they got inside. He got up, looked at the younger and tilted his head ad if understanding those words was something difficult to do. It wasn’t, but Junsu just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Chuck was apologizing for always giving him a hard time and kicking him aside.
At the man’s question, no immediate answer came to mind. Honestly, he didn’t know why he put up with that, or maybe he did, but he didn’t know how he did it. Was it because he was so used to being shunned and set aside that he was fine with it? Well, no, he didn’t think he could be ‘fine’, but at least he didn’t go around, drowning his sorrows. Now that would be depressing.
So that was it, then. Everything seemed to lead back to love.
As much as he'd tried to avoid it... but could he really blame Junsu? Could he really get so mad at the man for something that would probably would have happened eventually anyway?
Chuck felt guilty again. He kept making things difficult for the man, most of the time accidentally, some of the times on purpose. There were moments when he'd purposefully tried to push Junsu away, break his heart, make him leave... but Junsu had stayed.
Chuck wasn't sure he knew how to handle this.
No one had ever stayed.
While these thoughts ran through his head, he let Junsu wash his hair, keeping his eyes closed so the shampoo wouldn't get into them. He let himself be turned this way and that, tilting his head to let the shorter man lather and rinse.
With that done, he squeezed a bit of the shampoo into his own palm, worked it into a cloud of bubbles and then ran his hands through Junsu's tangled hair.
He took his time with it, massaging at the shaman's scalp, trying not to let a bit of it fall into his eyes.
Chuck didn't know what to feel.
He had tried so hard to discourage Junsu, to challenge him, make him work harder than he'd done with any other man, just to make him quit... for no other reason than he wasn't sure why Junsu hadn't quit earlier.
Plenty of other men had said they'd loved Chuck, but that didn't stop them from leaving. What made Junsu's love so different? Was there some secret he was missing? Some puzzle piece he hadn't counted?
Why was Junsu so willing to stay when all of the others were so quick to go?
Either something was wrong with Chuck (which scared all of the other men away) or something was wrong with Junsu (which made him stay.)
It was a series of questions Chuck couldn't answer. He could hardly even begin to understand the questions even in his own head. The redhead swallowed hard before gently moving Junsu so that he now stood more directly beneath the water.
Without a word, he rinsed the man's hair but, at least, he tried his best to smile.
Somehow, they always managed to get their cries for help to be as subtle as they could be, maybe because they were both prideful – Chuck more than Junsu – and maybe because they really didn’t need to say all the words for the other to understand what he had to do. It was nice how things simply worked sometimes.
Once he was out of his shirt, he made sure to place it on top of the nearby marble counter. He took off his bracelets, putting them on top of the shirt and proceeded to unbuckle his belt, catching a glimpse of the purple and red marks on his stomach. He sighed, dissatisfied with the fact that he even allowed himself to be in such state. Next time – not that he was planning on being captured again, but even so – he would simply use his power and dispose of everyone who threatened him. Having a few more deaths on his account would be better than having to deal with the aftermath of being so ‘considerate’.
Junsu slipped out of the rest of his clothes, folding them and placing them with the shirt he removed earlier. He would probably have to wear them again even if it was just when they were to go back to their apartment. He ignored the look on Chuck’s face as the redhead looked at his bruises. More than anyone, he also felt guilty for the turn of events. If only they’d talk and cleared things, if only he didn’t act like he did…
He felt awful for asking. He felt awful that he was confused enough by the situation that he had to constantly question it. Would Junsu ever give him an answer he was satisfied with? Or would there always be complications and mysteries that he needed to solve?
Something told him it wasn't supposed to be easy, that the course wasn't supposed to run smooth... but if there was one thing he hated (to add to his long list of 'one things,') it was feeling like he didn't know anything. For lack of better wording, Junsu just always made him feel like he didn't know jack squat.
Junsu constantly challenged the way Chuck felt about men and how he treated them. Junsu reminded him, on several occasions, that men had brains and didn't always think with their erections. Junsu reminded him of how persistent men could be, how stubborn they could get when tempted by something they wanted.
By just being himself, Junsu had changed every rule in the game and it terrified Chuck that he was certainly in a situation without a road map. There were corners ahead and he couldn't predict what lay around them. There were questions he'd never be happy with the answers to.
It was scary.
...but despite his fear, Chuck took Junsu's hand and allowed himself to be pulled into the shower stall, closing the glass door behind him. He allowed himself to be led under the hot, steaming spray of the shower.
Slowly, the water at their feet turned murky with the dirt and grime, dried blood and filth that had collected on their skin and in their hair over the past few days.
In a way, more than just their physical bodies were being wiped clean.
"I'm sorry, hun," he mumbled, not liking how vulnerable and soft he was sounding. "I'm sorry for always giving you a hard time, for always fighting and disagreeing with you and shooting you down and shutting you out and..." He stopped himself, not exactly sure what point he was trying to make.
"Why do you put up with all of that?" He questioned, his eyes trailing down Junsu's body but, for once, not seeing it as an object. There's a person in there, he thought. With a beating heart, with worries and fears and maybe even emotions... He's a person. He lives. He exists. It may have seemed silly to think such things, but he'd gone years believing men were only ATMs with penises. He'd gone years believing that all he had to do was wink and smile to catch their attention, hook them, make them feel for him, and then cut them loose once he'd gotten what he wanted.
Yet Junsu, like he'd done about so many other things, was making Chuck question what he thought he knew... and he was certain he didn't like being so clueless.
"Why do you put up with me?" He asked, more firmly, lifting his gaze to meet Junsu's dark eyes. "Don't you dare say it's because you love me. That can't be enough. That's not a good enough excuse. Why do you make yourself stay? Wouldn't it be easier that way? I can just turn my feelings off and on... How come you can't seem to do the same?" He tried to be assertive, but already his voice was softening again, weakening, getting lost beneath the sound of water against the tile floor.
"Don't you know how hard it is for me to watch you like this, hun?"
Laying there in complete silence (except for their gasps for air) Chuck was suddenly struck by how handsome Junsu was. The set of his jaw, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the strength of his nose and the beauty of his eyes. He was gorgeous.
Almost without realizing it, Chuck lifted his hands to cup Junsu's face, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin beneath his fingertips as a way of reminding himself that Junsu was here, he was real, and that they'd just had a wonderful time together.
As they kissed, it was gentler than their others but it was still heated and passionate. Chuck still had his legs wrapped around the man's waist, still wanting him to be close even though the man was still inside him, still pressing against sensitive nerves and making him shiver.
"I'm happy now, hun," he exhaled, relaxing back onto the couch and letting his hands trace the shape of Junsu's jaw once more. "...I think you may have finally won me over... Just a little bit."
As they walked through the now clogged streets of Paris along with all those injured people, some looking way more defeated than the others, it felt good to be casually playing around with words, teasing each other for the sake of trying to uplift each other’s moods.
It was hard to keep going without thinking about what happened and what was still happening. It was something he was sure he would never forget and he regretted the way things turned out. Maybe he could have done something to avoid it? The way he saw it, there was no way he could know that a war would break out there, but maybe if he’d done things differently… maybe if he didn’t get the redhead so tired of what was supposed to be a month of relaxing strolls, sightseeing and good old fun, things would have been different.
Junsu followed Chuck as he helped him up the stone stairs of the hotel, unsure of what he would find inside, but pleasantly surprised at the view. If that was a normal day, he would have looked around and appreciate the peculiar ornaments on the entrance’s ceiling, the paintings hanging on the walls and the elegant decoration. On a normal day, he would have entered such place dressed up to match the place’s elegance, but now he was just another one in a crowd of people looking for a place to stay. His clothes were wrinkled and his pants still had some of the blood from the night before.
No matter how he managed to wash his face, his hands and arms, he could still feel the dust and grime on his skin and it bothered him in more ways than one. “Me?” He asked, looking at the man before thinking for a moment. No, he didn’t dream and he he really didn’t get too much sleep, but it was more than enough to rest and feel alive again. “I got… enough sleep. I can’t sleep a whole night anyway. Well, not regularly and not without waking up more than once. Only on rare occasions I manage to do that.”
The hotel room was beautiful, like something out of a brochure. The furniture, heavy and ornate, was polished to an almost mirror-like sheen and the tiny chairs and the small bench at the foot of the bed were all upholstered in deep velvety blue.
The curtains were a soft off-white, appearing as delicate as angel feathers in the bright early afternoon sunlight. The bed, long and narrow, was covered in comfortable looking blankets and quilts.
Combined, the effects were a quiet elegance, an understated luxury. It was the illusion of old money, with antiques handed down from generation to generation, but Chuck knew enough about furniture to pick up on the fact that the majority of it wasn't even a decade old. Fortunately, there were enough modern touches (the sconces, the flat screen television) to keep things from looking too much like a grandmother's guest bedroom.
Chuck had wandered around the room three or four times, looking at everything in detail. He hadn't expected such an upscale hotel to offer up its rooms for free.
Then again, war changed a lot of things.
Chuck was surprised by Junsu's request, but when he walked into the bathroom and saw the violet bruises decorating Junsu's skin, his breath caught in his throat.
"Sure thing, hun," he said softly, as if speaking too loud would somehow cause the shaman pain. He crossed the almost-oversize bathroom towards the older man and, together, they carefully pulled the shirt over the shaman's head, exposing his wounds.
Chuck gritted his teeth. Guilt banged against his chest. If only he hadn't stormed out of their apartment in a rage! If only he'd stayed, ate breakfast calmly, talked everything over like they were civil human beings.... none of this would have happened. Or maybe it would have, but Junsu wouldn't have come so close to dying. Maybe they just would have watched the horrors from their apartment window? Maybe they'd have already left?
No, now wasn't the time to blame himself. They'd gotten out of that situation. Junsu was right in front of him, weak and in pain, but here. They were both alright... weren't they? Wasn't that enough?
Slowly, Chuck pulled off his own shirt. The almost too-snug fit made it a bit difficult to get out of, but he tossed it onto the floor. For a few seconds, he stared at it, finding it difficult to look into the man's eyes, especially with the question he was about to ask. There was a conversation they still needed to have, and if they put it off any further, they'd be back in South Korea in the middle of yet another fight before Chuck would think to mention it.
"Isn't it lonely?" He asked, barely loud enough to be heard. "To expect so much of me when you know I don't want to give it... Isn't that lonely?"
Alone, he certainly could have reached that point of no return, but with Junsu's help, it was so much easier to reach, and so much more fun.
Chuck clenched his jaw tight, trying to hold back a moan, enjoying the soft, fluttering feeling of Junsu's kisses along his neck and ear.
All of the sensations... they were almost too much to handle. The shaman's intense stare, the rolling movements of his hips, both of their hands stroking Chuck's cock, pushing him closer and closer to the edge... and then he tipped over.
With one sharp cry of Junsu's name, Chuck's whole body went tense as orgasm took over. Hot and dizzying, the feeling made him squeeze his eyes shut but his mouth hung open, his ragged breath escaping.
He came over both of their slender fingers, white liquid dripping onto his hairless stomach. He wanted to feel like that forever, that tingling that raced through his muscles and made breathing hard... but all too soon, the feeling was over, leaving him drained and exhausted and sweaty and satisfied and happier than he'd been in days.
Contentedly, he relaxed back onto the couch, opening his eyes to stare at the man above him.
The striped billiard balls shot across the table, dull sounds of impact after impact both echoing and fading into the background as Changmin contemplated his words and tried to push back the pessimistic voice in his head that said Chuck belonged somewhere else. “Catastrophe follows everyone here, Chuck. Some of us would do well enough to stay away from each other, but people are idiots. No exceptions.”
He cast a look upward before straightening his back and finding his position against the wall again, rolling the stick between his palms in an entirely absent movement, “Take a break — you’re only going to collapse if you try and push yourself too hard, too fast.” There was no reason why he’d say no; not when he’d spent more days than perhaps he should’ve escaping the pressure the Brotherhood tended to put on his shoulders.
In a way, he was curious as to whether Chuck would return, but the thought is discarded — all but forgotten the moment he refocused on the game and watched the scattering of solids across the velvet.
“Whoever says that they haven’t left this base for a breather is lying.” He gave a light shrug, almost uncaring of the way the conversation flowed at that point.
Chuck lined up his shot, took it and barely managed to sink it. He circled around the table to line up his next shot, thankful for his long torso that made leaning over to get just the right angle quite easy.
"Stay away from each other, huh?" He mumbled, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in hesitation. He took the shot, but he'd put too much force behind it, sent the cue spinning like a top in the wrong direction. It bounced off the side and came to a pitiful halt in the center of the table.
"If all of you are supposed to keep to yourselves, hun, I think someone needs to reconsider what you guys call your little group." Yourselves. You. Words that excluded him from the group. It still felt strange to consider himself a member, as badly as he felt like he needed to be one now that he had no family. "I just think it's been a while since someone's looked in the dictionary."
Chuck realized a bit late that no amount of staring would get the cue ball moving again, so he backed away from the table to allow Changmin the space to take his turn.
"Too bad it's not warm enough for the beach. God, I hate shivering so much." As if just thinking about it made him cool, he rubbed a hand over his arm as if to warm himself. "Then again, I'm also a bit worried about what all of this training means... The hours spent doing this, that and the other. What's it all for?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he remembered what had happened only a handful of days ago: the situation the Renegades had gotten involved in that ended up with Chuck here, swearing his allegiance to someone else. He still didn't know all the details of that, but the past was the past. He never felt much like a Renegade to begin with, even as a child. It was just awful that even after all of this time and a change of venue, he couldn't escape that feeling.
"I wonder if they miss me at all... or have I always been disposable?" He was so lost in thought, he hadn't even realized he'd spoken aloud.
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