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09 March 2010 @ 10:33 pm
[SJ]All along  
Title: All along
Author: labymiro@winters18
Genre: Angst
Rating: G
Pairing: HanChul
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: All along, he perhaps knew it’d come to this.


IDK. I’m ill, feeling depressed, haven’t written anything for ages.

Byungshin is a swear word, means something like an idiot/retard. Sounds similar to Baengshin…XP And I might have got the timeline wrong so sorry about that. Also, Heebum’s original name for the first day was actually HanHeeBum, then Jay’s name got added on later.

:::::All along by labymiro:::::

“We’re leaving now,” he says and you hit back his expectant gaze without blinking, without smiling, without cursing. Not more than a couple of seconds later, he breaks out into a resigned smile, pulls his luggage upright, and two strides later, you are wrapped in his arms.

“Bye,” he whispers into your ear and you cash your eyes sideways. At the far corner, you see the ends of his short black hair. They normally goad you into attempting to flatten them down with a well placed slap, quite successfully too, but this time, your hands remain at your side firmly.

Something is in the air and something is in the soft inky eyes that are now smiling at you again. But you have never been one to pry, never one to care.

He looks at you once more at arm’s length. You stare back, lips defiantly sealed.

He leaves. You stay.


Leeteuk is surprisingly calm, breaking the news. It surprises other members only mildly because they know they will be hearing muffled sobs from the other side of the closed door but never on this side.

You are astonishingly quiet, listening to the news. It shocks other members perhaps even more than the news itself because the onslaught of raging curses should have drowned out Leeteuk the moment the name ‘Hankyung’ and the word ‘lawsuit’ were stringed together.

“So that’s how it is,” Leeteuk wraps up his monologue and breaks the meeting. He takes the 11th floor members down himself, Shindong trudging down with Sungmin, and you retreat to your room.

Heebum trots over when you come in, curls its flexible body round your ankle. You look down, blankness filling your distant eyes, and pick up the grey feline to your eyelevel.

“HanHeeBum,” you call. Heebum blinks at you.

“HanJaeHeeBum,” you call. Heebum strikes the air with its clawless paw.

“JaeHeebum,” you call. Heebum stills, blinking at you again.

“Cats don’t need surnames anyway, let alone two,” you say. Heebum meows and you think it’s not a happy meow.

“You don’t get a say in this, you stupid cat,” you say.

Because he is not coming back.

The company will negotiate, Leeteuk will believe, but you know, perhaps from the moment he had left with bye.

You let Heebum down and make a call to Jay.

“You just became daddy. Congrats.”

You hang up even before Jay gets a breath in.


The members get hilariously twitchy because you don’t have a fit over the empty room and the lack of Beijing fried rice so you decide you might as well throw one.

You irritate Heebum till he’s hissing at you then throw him into his room, locking the door.

You raid the kitchen, of the 12th AND 11th, leaving behind shards of broken plates, heaps of washing liquid suds, spills of sticky raw eggs, contemporary looking carrots, and raw rice swimming in a pot of oil.

You ring his number, beginning with a sneer after the beep and ending with hoarse screams.

You call Jay, on a whim, tell him to come to the dorm, and when he does, you tell him to wait and leave, call Jungmo out, and trash the drum in the practice room, breaking four sets of drum sticks.

When you come back, Jay is still at the dorm, greeting you with a smile and Heebum in his arms.

You take Heebum from him, smack his head without a word, and tell him to get some soju and stay quiet.

Jay does as he’s told and you down the soju, unconsciously comparing the silence with his silence.

The last green bottle shows its bottom, Jay cleans up, you go to sleep, and it’s just another day.


A tiny bundle of warmth squirms in your hand. Soft pale brown with eye-catching dark streaks. It yawns, wiggles a bit, and looks at you.

“You got another one?” Leeteuk asks and you reply, as usual, with something else.

“Do you think it will bite me if I call it Hankyung?”

Leeteuk stops on his way out behind you. A split second later, with a moment of inspiration, you shout, “Baengshin!”


Leeteuk runs out before you can hair-slap him.


China is a country. Another information you have on it is that it’s his home that speaks his language. The last information you have is it’s the country in which you cried for the first time in the concert.

The backstage is a chaos, 10 boys changing clothes, stylists fixing their hairs and make-ups after the tears and the sweats, staff filing in and out, checking the times, and you stare at the reflection on the mirror at the little corner you have for yourself.

Puffy red eyes, streaks down the pale cheeks, they are not familiar to you, just like how the chants of Han Geng is alien to you.

“Heechul, quick!” The stylist says, tugging at your black hood.

You stare at the strange reflection. I cried, you think. For you. Because of you.

He’s not here and he won’t ever be.


You think maybe, you’ve finally realized what it means.

“I should’ve kicked him real hard,” you murmur.

The order of the songs is changed at the last minute, and still, you get ready for your next stage barely in time.


He sounds different and he looks different. He looks like he’s gained a bit of weight and lost a bit of weight. You can’t quite make up your mind and jumbles of incomprehensible Chinese are not helping.

10 seconds into it, and you close the window. The strong accent dies out, the room falls silent. Siwon has already given a rough translation to him and Leeteuk, looking apologetic all the while, and you think Leeteuk’s Cyworld is going to get a new cryptic post soon.

As for you, you look at the still screen, Heebum and Baengshin both resting on your lap somehow, restraining you down to the chair.

Click, play. Click, pause. Click, play. Click, pause.

A second spans into three, a minute into three, two minutes into six.

Click, replay.

You watch him giving a smile you don’t know, speaking a language you don’t know, talking of a dream you don’t know, in a set you don’t know, in a country you don’t know.

At least he’d been polite, bidding a proper goodbye.

You close the window, abruptly cutting off the Chinese. You shut the laptop, shove the two grumpy felines away, and head over to the coldest room on the floor. The mess Heebum’s left the last time is as it is since no one has dared to evoke Heechul’s anger for cleaning, and you pick up one of the shreds (maybe it was a cushion, or maybe the duvet cover, or the curtain; you don’t know and it doesn’t matter).

“Bye,” you say and release the fabric from your pinch. You’re out of the room before it touches the ground and with the key you always had to the room, you lock the door and throws the key in the bin.

You’ve known all along. You might as well be the first to accept it.
FollowUrDestiny: HanchulTwinsfollowurdestiny on March 15th, 2010 02:49 pm (UTC)
TT_TT *guhhhh*
라비미로labymirolabymiro on March 15th, 2010 04:17 pm (UTC)
T^T It's heartbreaking for these two atm..