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jewelledhours2012-05-21 12:31 am
catskilt.livejournal.com) wrote in jewelledhours2012-05-21 12:31 am
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[eunhyuk/donghae] twelve cupcakes [part four]
twelve cupcakes by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catskilt
eunhyuk/donghae
pg-13; 3,352 words; multi-chapter
this is the fic where donghae is a baker and hyukjae is a prostitute, and together they make something out of the city of romance that is paris.
part one; part two; part three
Part Four-
One day, Hyukjae doesn't come.
That is not the point. There are plenty of days when Hyukjae doesn't come – Wednesdays, for example, are typical non-Hyukjae days because he has to work extra hours to make up for his off-days on Thursdays. He sometimes doesn't come on Saturdays, because he's usually overbooked on Saturdays and needs to conserve strength during his spare time.
The point is, he doesn't come on a Tuesday, and there are so many things wrong with that. Hyukjae always comes on Tuesdays, even if it's for no more than a couple of hours. There is an unspoken agreement between them that Hyukjae is supposed to show up because it is the day before Wednesday, and going without each other for two whole days is unheard of. Donghae can't be expected to survive without Hyukjae for two days. That's forty-eight hours. That's a very long time.
So Donghae remains sitting forlornly on the back steps long after his second carton of strawberry milk has been drained to the last drop. The indie clothes designer who rents the shop next to his calls out a greeting between her puffs of cigarette smoke, but he's too distraught to reply. A slight drizzle is beginning to fall out of the black formless sky, because the moon, obviously, cannot shine when Hyukjae is not there.
He talks himself back into reason. The moon is behind a cloud; the drizzle is the result of a strangely humid day; and Hyukjae is not here because he was held up at work. Or he might have had an appointment with another friend. Or he might even have overslept. Donghae is, he tells himself, a better man than to sit here sulking when Hyukjae is absent for a legitimate reason, so he gets up, throws away the milk cartons, and cycles three streets back to his little apartment.
The next day is a Wednesday, which means that the chances of Hyukjae coming by are next to nil. Donghae tries to be happy and cheery as he bakes the Special Offer of the Day – a new marketing move that Hyukjae had suggested a week ago and which seems to be bringing in a slight increase of customers – but his whistling of 'I'm Yours' dies sadly somewhere in the middle of the song.
"You sound miserable today," says Henry. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Donghae lies.
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
Donghae's saved by the front door opening. He juts his thumb out at Henry, who obediently leaves to serve the customer, and concentrates on making his lemon syrup. A few minutes later he's rewarded by the ring of the cash register.
Henry comes back looking a little perturbed.
"What did the customer buy?" Donghae asks.
"Um, a box of the mini cupcakes," Henry says.
Donghae takes a moment to reflect on the mini cupcakes. He'd initiated them a fortnight ago – again, at Hyukjae's suggestion – and so far they've been selling pretty well. Better than anything else in the bakery, at least. "Good," he says.
"Uh," Henry says. "Actually, I made a mistake. I wrote "one euro" on the mini cupcake signs. But they're two euros, right?"
Donghae blinks at him. "You charged the customer half of what she was supposed to pay?"
"I'm sorry," Henry cries. "I really didn't mean to. I'll change all the signs immediately."
"Scrub the kitchen floor," Donghae says, very calmly, considering.
"You're a dictator," Henry moans as he goes to retrieve the mop.
Wednesday somehow passes.
… …
It's Thursday morning, and Donghae is up bright and early. A couple of birds are twittering outside his window, which is partly the reason why he's up early, but for once he doesn't feel like throwing something at them. It's Thursday, and Hyukjae will be here in approximately two hours' time.
He spends the chunk of those two hours cleaning up his apartment and throwing out a month's worth of newspapers. He doesn't quite know why he subscribes to the papers; it's not like he really reads them since all the stuff he needs to know are on the internet, but it's kind of cool to have newspapers lying around. He changes his bedsheets – Hyukjae hates it when he lies down on bedsheets that haven't been washed for a week – and takes care to scrub the toilet thoroughly so that Hyukjae won't object to Donghae's pleasant fantasy of having sex in the bathtub. Then he runs down to the corner store to pick up coffee and some croissants. It's a beautiful morning, blue sky, empty roads, the café opposite drawing up its blinds. Paris! Life! This moment of June!
Maybe they can pick up some books later and read them out loud to each other. Henry's been nagging at him to be more well-read. "Have some idea of the world outside the bakery," Henry had said a little pompously, and Donghae thought of sharing with him that he's been sleeping with Paris' most infamous male whore.
He waits till noon, occasionally looking out of the window to the street below. There are plenty of people walking around – older folks, housewives, teenagers, and then kids coming back from school – but none of them are Hyukjae. He thinks of calling Hyukjae up, then realises – for the hundredth time – that he doesn't have his number. The clock ticks by. Two. Three. Four.
There are eight hours left, he tells himself. Plenty of time for Hyukjae to show up.
But Hyukjae does not come, and at midnight Donghae lies on his fresh bedsheets and tries his best not to call home to Jungsu, because it wouldn't be fair to Jungsu to have a sobbing mess at the other end of the phone line.
… …
Hyukjae doesn't show up for ten days. Twenty-four hours times ten. Donghae is vaguely aware that life is going on as per normal, the sun is still rising and setting, the clouds are coming and going, the indie clothes designer is smoking, the bookshop owner is making out with her boyfriend, but it all seems impossible. The only reality is that he's been sitting on the back steps night after night with empty milk cartons and a lover who doesn't come. He's going out of his mind. He's not angry anymore, not slighted nor upset, but incredibly, unbelievably frightened – it's a fear that he never thought could exist. The kind of fear that he reads about in books, that weakens knees and trembles and shakes its way through your body, that numbs your mind to everything else, and he'd always thought it was exaggerated until now. Something has happened to Hyukjae. He knows it.
On the eleventh night, he doesn't bother waiting out the back. He gets on the subway and rides it to the night-time entertainment centre of Paris, the glittery, bawdy red light district, and walks towards the brothel that manages Hyukjae's interests. He doesn't quite know what he'll do when he gets there, but anything seems better than waiting around senselessly in his neighbourhood.
The brothel is surprisingly intimidating when he steps in. He'd been expecting something sleazier, but the interior is plush, extravagantly designed, almost classy, like a five-star boutique hotel save for the multitude of portraits hung up around the walls showing beautiful young men in various stages of nudity. They smother at Donghae when he walks in, look at him through half-lidded eyes, spread their legs out for him to admire their crotches, and he has to swallow to remind himself that they're merely pictures.
One of the prettiest young men whom he's ever seen looks at him from the reception. "Welcome," he says, his eyes raking down Donghae's body and calculating – Donghae is sure – the exact amount of money that his T-shirt and jeans are worth. "Your appointment?"
"Actually, um," Donghae tries not to stutter, "I, uh. No, I don't have an appointment, actually, I'm here to – to, er…" What is the French word for enquire? Why is his vocabulary failing him at this crucial point in his life? "Lee Hyukjae, is he here?"
The boy looks at him with some incredulity. "Hyukjae doesn't entertain here."
"What?" Donghae asks, floored. "But this is his brothel, isn't it?"
"Hyukjae has his own apartment," says the boy. "Do you have an appointment with him?"
"Yes," says Donghae, suddenly. "Um, for tonight."
The boy looks disbelieving. "Your name, sir? I will check your appointment."
"Er, if you can just tell me where he is…"
"Hyukjae isn't here," says the boy, giving him a half-smile that very clearly says, I know you're a fake. "He's out until next week."
"Out?" Donghae asks, wondering if he'd misunderstood the French.
"You'll hear from Pierre soon," says the boy, and turns back to his work.
He evidently doesn't want to divulge anymore super-secretive information about Hyukjae, so Donghae leaves and tries very, very hard not to have a fit right there on the pavement. Something has happened to Hyukjae. Hyukjae could be dead for all he knows – or no, since the boy had said that Hyukjae was out until 'next week' – so Hyukjae is alive, but in a bad stage of alive, and Donghae has absolutely no way of knowing what has happened to him.
He wanders back to the subway station in a daze and somehow manages to make it back home. He doesn't know how he gets himself undressed and in bed, but that's not important. What's important is that Hyukjae is sick, or injured, or possibly dying, and Donghae's not with him. That night, he wakes up three times from nightmares.
… …
Finally, six days later, on a Thursday, Hyukjae comes. It's five o' clock when he arrives, and Donghae's sitting behind the counter when he comes in, sunglasses on and hands in his pockets, like it's just another ordinary occasion.
"Hyukjae," Donghae says, and tries to make a leap out of his chair only to realise that his legs have completely lost their strength.
Hyukjae walks behind the counter, leans down and wraps his arms silently around him. Donghae makes a move to pull back and look at his face, but Hyukjae just holds on, breathing hard against his cheek, and Donghae's at a loss – how do you kiss or yell at someone who's hugging you like you're his lifeline?
But all too soon Hyukjae pulls away and sits down on one of the stools, and Donghae finds the strength to get out of his seat. "I'm closing the store," he says. "And then you're going to tell me where the hell you've been."
Hyukjae says nothing, and the fear in Donghae's heart grows as he turns the door sign to 'CLOSED' and locks the front doors. Then he takes Hyukjae's hand, like a child, and leads him to the back where they squeeze together on the back steps. Sitting like this with him now, their thighs pressed against each other, it seems impossible to Donghae that he's been sitting here night after night with such pain and worry.
"Begin," he says.
Hyukjae takes off his sunglasses. His eyes are tired, puffy, and Donghae suppresses a shocked exclamation. "I'm sorry I didn't show up," he says. "I couldn't get word to you, either. Pierre refused to carry any messages for me. I think he hates you." He grins a little. "Pierre thinks you're going to take me away from his clutches and then how is he going to afford his luxury vacation to Monte Carlo?"
"What happened, Hyuk?"
For answer, Hyukjae rolls up the sleeve of his left arm and Donghae almost blacks out. Fresh scars of cigarette burns and marks cover almost the entirety of his skin, and Donghae looks closer to make out the tail ends of scars on Hyukjae's neck. "Hyuk?!"
Hyukjae unrolls his sleeve. "A customer. He liked BDSM. It was okay at first, we did the typical stuff, then he demanded more. I told him no and that he had to leave, I wasn't going to be his punching bag. He knocked me out and tied me to the bed and peed into my face. Then he beat me up. I think extreme violence aroused him. When I woke up he was pounding into me and then it was over, but I was too far gone to really be aware of anything and the next thing I knew I was in hospital."
Donghae grips his hands into fists. He isn't sure which is worse, listening to Hyukjae's story or the way Hyukjae is telling it, so emotionlessly and matter-of-factly, but either way it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He breathes in hard, through his nose and then through his mouth, his fingernails digging into his palms, and then he bends over and vomits his guts out onto the street.
When Hyukjae grabs hold of his face and starts cleaning him up with tissues, Donghae can barely see through the film of blind hatred and tears in his eyes.
"God, what a mess," Hyukjae says. "It's okay, Donghae, it's okay. They gave me the best treatment and I'm recovering really well. The doctor says I'll have minimal scarring on my body. The bastard didn't manage to destroy me. Pierre has blacklisted him, he'll never come within ten feet of me again. It's okay."
"I want to kill him," Donghae chokes. "I will kill him."
"He's a very rich, powerful man," Hyukjae says, smiling a little. "It'll be a bit difficult getting to him."
"I don't care. I will murder that asshole."
"No, you won't do anything stupid like that, cause it'll end up in you jailed for life and then where will we be? I can't let my Donghae be stuck in jail for life, can I? I missed you so much, Donghae, god you have no idea. You have no idea." He reaches out and pulls Donghae towards him, wrapping him in his arms again, but carefully, Donghae realises now, with no pressure, in case the contact hurts him.
They start kissing, but in the middle of it Donghae suddenly breaks down into a storm of tears so strong that he has to struggle to breathe, and then Hyukjae holds him and kisses his forehead and says again and again that it's okay.
"It's not okay," Donghae says, gasping between sobs. "I've always wanted to say this – you're so not okay, you're being raped every day…"
"I'm not being raped. It's my job. I get paid for it."
"You're sleeping around with all these men…who can do anything to you…and now see what…see what they've done."
"It's just one man, Donghae. Everyone else has treated me fine."
"You got burned," Donghae shouts. "You got tied up and beaten and peed on, and you're acting like it's okay? Hyukjae! How can you let this happen to you?"
Hyukjae stares at him. "Because it won't happen again."
"You can't be sure!"
"I assure you it won't."
"And me?" Donghae continues shouting, "What about me? I'm supposed to just sit here day after day worrying about you? I can give you everything, Hyuk, I can sell off my bakery for you, I can nurse you twenty four hours a day, I can slave for you…I love you! I've been so frightened these past two weeks thinking you were dying, I almost went mad, Hyukjae, I can't take it anymore, you have to quit your job and come live here with me."
Hyukjae reaches out to grip his hand. "Donghae, you're just saying that because it's the easiest thing to say at this moment. You don't actually mean it."
"I do," Donghae says. "I do, I do, every single word of it."
Hyukjae looks away for a moment. "Let's not get so emotional over this."
"It means nothing to you that I love you?"
"No, it means a lot to me," Hyukjae says. "You know that our friendship means a lot to me."
"Friendship? We're not friends, Hyuk. I love you, that means we're more important than that. It means that I can ask you to quit your job and live with me."
Hyukjae says nothing for a long while. He sits there motionlessly, staring at the wall before them, and it suddenly seems to Donghae that he can't bear it. He leans over and picks up Hyukjae's hand, raises it to his lips and kisses the fingertips, one by one, the way a man kisses his beloved. And still Hyukjae doesn't move, except to rest his palm against Donghae's cheek and let Donghae's tears fall onto his lap.
"I can't," Hyukjae says at last. "Don't say anything until you've heard me through. I know that what happened to me was terrible, but Pierre has promised me that it won't happen again, and I've been through enough with him to know that he can be trusted. This is my life, Donghae. I've worked hard to get to where I am, and I'm at this point in my life when I need to look above certain things. I don't have a family, I don't really have a home, and this job is what's anchoring me down. I need the money and stability. That's it, in plain terms. If I quit and move in with you – what are we going to live on? The bakery is losing money. If we sell it and move back to Korea, what are we going to do there? Besides, Korea's no place for a gay couple. You know that as well as I do."
"You're saying it as though I'm completely useless," Donghae says.
"You're not," says Hyukjae. "The point is, you don't want to live with me. You really don't. I'm okay for a few hours here and there every other day, but as a regular, day in day out companion – you would hate me. The people I know, the things I do – you don't want to be associated with any of it."
"What have you done that is so bad?"
Hyukjae sighs. "You can't be associated with me on such close terms. And I won't let you."
Donghae grips his fists again. "In that case, why are you here?"
Hyukjae starts to speak, but Donghae shakes his head violently. "You've just made your point clear. You don't want me to be associated with you, and you don't think I can provide for you or be a suitable partner for you, so why are you here? Why did you bother coming?"
"I came back because…"
"You obviously don't care a bit about me, all you want is money and glory and fucking around. You're right. I don't need a companion like that." He sticks his thumb out to the right. "The main road is that way. I won't see you out."
Hyukjae stands up, slowly, like he understands. He takes a few steps towards the main road, then stops and turns back. Donghae's thinking, he's walking away now, he's leaving me, he's going away forever, and if I don't call out to him at this moment, if I don't make him sit down beside me again and explain to him why I love him and why we'll work, he's never going to come back. This isn't supposed to be how it was to turn out, we were supposed to leave each other amicably, but we're going to part like this, in anger and resentment, and I never meant…
Then he thinks of Hyukjae's little speech about associations and jobs and losing money, and a voice louder than his inner self screams out in his head in capitals, WELL, SINCE YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM, LET HIM GO HIS OWN MERRY WAY!
"I came back because I wanted to see you again," Hyukjae says. "I wanted you to hold me again. That's all."
"Fuck you," says Donghae. "Fuck you and your whorish life and your disgusting morals."
Hyukjae looks at him, blinks, and then nods, like he understands. He's out of sight in approximately five seconds.
And then Donghae's inner self thinks, a shade mockingly, well there you did it, he's gone for good.
catskilteunhyuk/donghae
pg-13; 3,352 words; multi-chapter
this is the fic where donghae is a baker and hyukjae is a prostitute, and together they make something out of the city of romance that is paris.
part one; part two; part three
Part Four-
One day, Hyukjae doesn't come.
That is not the point. There are plenty of days when Hyukjae doesn't come – Wednesdays, for example, are typical non-Hyukjae days because he has to work extra hours to make up for his off-days on Thursdays. He sometimes doesn't come on Saturdays, because he's usually overbooked on Saturdays and needs to conserve strength during his spare time.
The point is, he doesn't come on a Tuesday, and there are so many things wrong with that. Hyukjae always comes on Tuesdays, even if it's for no more than a couple of hours. There is an unspoken agreement between them that Hyukjae is supposed to show up because it is the day before Wednesday, and going without each other for two whole days is unheard of. Donghae can't be expected to survive without Hyukjae for two days. That's forty-eight hours. That's a very long time.
So Donghae remains sitting forlornly on the back steps long after his second carton of strawberry milk has been drained to the last drop. The indie clothes designer who rents the shop next to his calls out a greeting between her puffs of cigarette smoke, but he's too distraught to reply. A slight drizzle is beginning to fall out of the black formless sky, because the moon, obviously, cannot shine when Hyukjae is not there.
He talks himself back into reason. The moon is behind a cloud; the drizzle is the result of a strangely humid day; and Hyukjae is not here because he was held up at work. Or he might have had an appointment with another friend. Or he might even have overslept. Donghae is, he tells himself, a better man than to sit here sulking when Hyukjae is absent for a legitimate reason, so he gets up, throws away the milk cartons, and cycles three streets back to his little apartment.
The next day is a Wednesday, which means that the chances of Hyukjae coming by are next to nil. Donghae tries to be happy and cheery as he bakes the Special Offer of the Day – a new marketing move that Hyukjae had suggested a week ago and which seems to be bringing in a slight increase of customers – but his whistling of 'I'm Yours' dies sadly somewhere in the middle of the song.
"You sound miserable today," says Henry. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Donghae lies.
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
Donghae's saved by the front door opening. He juts his thumb out at Henry, who obediently leaves to serve the customer, and concentrates on making his lemon syrup. A few minutes later he's rewarded by the ring of the cash register.
Henry comes back looking a little perturbed.
"What did the customer buy?" Donghae asks.
"Um, a box of the mini cupcakes," Henry says.
Donghae takes a moment to reflect on the mini cupcakes. He'd initiated them a fortnight ago – again, at Hyukjae's suggestion – and so far they've been selling pretty well. Better than anything else in the bakery, at least. "Good," he says.
"Uh," Henry says. "Actually, I made a mistake. I wrote "one euro" on the mini cupcake signs. But they're two euros, right?"
Donghae blinks at him. "You charged the customer half of what she was supposed to pay?"
"I'm sorry," Henry cries. "I really didn't mean to. I'll change all the signs immediately."
"Scrub the kitchen floor," Donghae says, very calmly, considering.
"You're a dictator," Henry moans as he goes to retrieve the mop.
Wednesday somehow passes.
… …
It's Thursday morning, and Donghae is up bright and early. A couple of birds are twittering outside his window, which is partly the reason why he's up early, but for once he doesn't feel like throwing something at them. It's Thursday, and Hyukjae will be here in approximately two hours' time.
He spends the chunk of those two hours cleaning up his apartment and throwing out a month's worth of newspapers. He doesn't quite know why he subscribes to the papers; it's not like he really reads them since all the stuff he needs to know are on the internet, but it's kind of cool to have newspapers lying around. He changes his bedsheets – Hyukjae hates it when he lies down on bedsheets that haven't been washed for a week – and takes care to scrub the toilet thoroughly so that Hyukjae won't object to Donghae's pleasant fantasy of having sex in the bathtub. Then he runs down to the corner store to pick up coffee and some croissants. It's a beautiful morning, blue sky, empty roads, the café opposite drawing up its blinds. Paris! Life! This moment of June!
Maybe they can pick up some books later and read them out loud to each other. Henry's been nagging at him to be more well-read. "Have some idea of the world outside the bakery," Henry had said a little pompously, and Donghae thought of sharing with him that he's been sleeping with Paris' most infamous male whore.
He waits till noon, occasionally looking out of the window to the street below. There are plenty of people walking around – older folks, housewives, teenagers, and then kids coming back from school – but none of them are Hyukjae. He thinks of calling Hyukjae up, then realises – for the hundredth time – that he doesn't have his number. The clock ticks by. Two. Three. Four.
There are eight hours left, he tells himself. Plenty of time for Hyukjae to show up.
But Hyukjae does not come, and at midnight Donghae lies on his fresh bedsheets and tries his best not to call home to Jungsu, because it wouldn't be fair to Jungsu to have a sobbing mess at the other end of the phone line.
… …
Hyukjae doesn't show up for ten days. Twenty-four hours times ten. Donghae is vaguely aware that life is going on as per normal, the sun is still rising and setting, the clouds are coming and going, the indie clothes designer is smoking, the bookshop owner is making out with her boyfriend, but it all seems impossible. The only reality is that he's been sitting on the back steps night after night with empty milk cartons and a lover who doesn't come. He's going out of his mind. He's not angry anymore, not slighted nor upset, but incredibly, unbelievably frightened – it's a fear that he never thought could exist. The kind of fear that he reads about in books, that weakens knees and trembles and shakes its way through your body, that numbs your mind to everything else, and he'd always thought it was exaggerated until now. Something has happened to Hyukjae. He knows it.
On the eleventh night, he doesn't bother waiting out the back. He gets on the subway and rides it to the night-time entertainment centre of Paris, the glittery, bawdy red light district, and walks towards the brothel that manages Hyukjae's interests. He doesn't quite know what he'll do when he gets there, but anything seems better than waiting around senselessly in his neighbourhood.
The brothel is surprisingly intimidating when he steps in. He'd been expecting something sleazier, but the interior is plush, extravagantly designed, almost classy, like a five-star boutique hotel save for the multitude of portraits hung up around the walls showing beautiful young men in various stages of nudity. They smother at Donghae when he walks in, look at him through half-lidded eyes, spread their legs out for him to admire their crotches, and he has to swallow to remind himself that they're merely pictures.
One of the prettiest young men whom he's ever seen looks at him from the reception. "Welcome," he says, his eyes raking down Donghae's body and calculating – Donghae is sure – the exact amount of money that his T-shirt and jeans are worth. "Your appointment?"
"Actually, um," Donghae tries not to stutter, "I, uh. No, I don't have an appointment, actually, I'm here to – to, er…" What is the French word for enquire? Why is his vocabulary failing him at this crucial point in his life? "Lee Hyukjae, is he here?"
The boy looks at him with some incredulity. "Hyukjae doesn't entertain here."
"What?" Donghae asks, floored. "But this is his brothel, isn't it?"
"Hyukjae has his own apartment," says the boy. "Do you have an appointment with him?"
"Yes," says Donghae, suddenly. "Um, for tonight."
The boy looks disbelieving. "Your name, sir? I will check your appointment."
"Er, if you can just tell me where he is…"
"Hyukjae isn't here," says the boy, giving him a half-smile that very clearly says, I know you're a fake. "He's out until next week."
"Out?" Donghae asks, wondering if he'd misunderstood the French.
"You'll hear from Pierre soon," says the boy, and turns back to his work.
He evidently doesn't want to divulge anymore super-secretive information about Hyukjae, so Donghae leaves and tries very, very hard not to have a fit right there on the pavement. Something has happened to Hyukjae. Hyukjae could be dead for all he knows – or no, since the boy had said that Hyukjae was out until 'next week' – so Hyukjae is alive, but in a bad stage of alive, and Donghae has absolutely no way of knowing what has happened to him.
He wanders back to the subway station in a daze and somehow manages to make it back home. He doesn't know how he gets himself undressed and in bed, but that's not important. What's important is that Hyukjae is sick, or injured, or possibly dying, and Donghae's not with him. That night, he wakes up three times from nightmares.
… …
Finally, six days later, on a Thursday, Hyukjae comes. It's five o' clock when he arrives, and Donghae's sitting behind the counter when he comes in, sunglasses on and hands in his pockets, like it's just another ordinary occasion.
"Hyukjae," Donghae says, and tries to make a leap out of his chair only to realise that his legs have completely lost their strength.
Hyukjae walks behind the counter, leans down and wraps his arms silently around him. Donghae makes a move to pull back and look at his face, but Hyukjae just holds on, breathing hard against his cheek, and Donghae's at a loss – how do you kiss or yell at someone who's hugging you like you're his lifeline?
But all too soon Hyukjae pulls away and sits down on one of the stools, and Donghae finds the strength to get out of his seat. "I'm closing the store," he says. "And then you're going to tell me where the hell you've been."
Hyukjae says nothing, and the fear in Donghae's heart grows as he turns the door sign to 'CLOSED' and locks the front doors. Then he takes Hyukjae's hand, like a child, and leads him to the back where they squeeze together on the back steps. Sitting like this with him now, their thighs pressed against each other, it seems impossible to Donghae that he's been sitting here night after night with such pain and worry.
"Begin," he says.
Hyukjae takes off his sunglasses. His eyes are tired, puffy, and Donghae suppresses a shocked exclamation. "I'm sorry I didn't show up," he says. "I couldn't get word to you, either. Pierre refused to carry any messages for me. I think he hates you." He grins a little. "Pierre thinks you're going to take me away from his clutches and then how is he going to afford his luxury vacation to Monte Carlo?"
"What happened, Hyuk?"
For answer, Hyukjae rolls up the sleeve of his left arm and Donghae almost blacks out. Fresh scars of cigarette burns and marks cover almost the entirety of his skin, and Donghae looks closer to make out the tail ends of scars on Hyukjae's neck. "Hyuk?!"
Hyukjae unrolls his sleeve. "A customer. He liked BDSM. It was okay at first, we did the typical stuff, then he demanded more. I told him no and that he had to leave, I wasn't going to be his punching bag. He knocked me out and tied me to the bed and peed into my face. Then he beat me up. I think extreme violence aroused him. When I woke up he was pounding into me and then it was over, but I was too far gone to really be aware of anything and the next thing I knew I was in hospital."
Donghae grips his hands into fists. He isn't sure which is worse, listening to Hyukjae's story or the way Hyukjae is telling it, so emotionlessly and matter-of-factly, but either way it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He breathes in hard, through his nose and then through his mouth, his fingernails digging into his palms, and then he bends over and vomits his guts out onto the street.
When Hyukjae grabs hold of his face and starts cleaning him up with tissues, Donghae can barely see through the film of blind hatred and tears in his eyes.
"God, what a mess," Hyukjae says. "It's okay, Donghae, it's okay. They gave me the best treatment and I'm recovering really well. The doctor says I'll have minimal scarring on my body. The bastard didn't manage to destroy me. Pierre has blacklisted him, he'll never come within ten feet of me again. It's okay."
"I want to kill him," Donghae chokes. "I will kill him."
"He's a very rich, powerful man," Hyukjae says, smiling a little. "It'll be a bit difficult getting to him."
"I don't care. I will murder that asshole."
"No, you won't do anything stupid like that, cause it'll end up in you jailed for life and then where will we be? I can't let my Donghae be stuck in jail for life, can I? I missed you so much, Donghae, god you have no idea. You have no idea." He reaches out and pulls Donghae towards him, wrapping him in his arms again, but carefully, Donghae realises now, with no pressure, in case the contact hurts him.
They start kissing, but in the middle of it Donghae suddenly breaks down into a storm of tears so strong that he has to struggle to breathe, and then Hyukjae holds him and kisses his forehead and says again and again that it's okay.
"It's not okay," Donghae says, gasping between sobs. "I've always wanted to say this – you're so not okay, you're being raped every day…"
"I'm not being raped. It's my job. I get paid for it."
"You're sleeping around with all these men…who can do anything to you…and now see what…see what they've done."
"It's just one man, Donghae. Everyone else has treated me fine."
"You got burned," Donghae shouts. "You got tied up and beaten and peed on, and you're acting like it's okay? Hyukjae! How can you let this happen to you?"
Hyukjae stares at him. "Because it won't happen again."
"You can't be sure!"
"I assure you it won't."
"And me?" Donghae continues shouting, "What about me? I'm supposed to just sit here day after day worrying about you? I can give you everything, Hyuk, I can sell off my bakery for you, I can nurse you twenty four hours a day, I can slave for you…I love you! I've been so frightened these past two weeks thinking you were dying, I almost went mad, Hyukjae, I can't take it anymore, you have to quit your job and come live here with me."
Hyukjae reaches out to grip his hand. "Donghae, you're just saying that because it's the easiest thing to say at this moment. You don't actually mean it."
"I do," Donghae says. "I do, I do, every single word of it."
Hyukjae looks away for a moment. "Let's not get so emotional over this."
"It means nothing to you that I love you?"
"No, it means a lot to me," Hyukjae says. "You know that our friendship means a lot to me."
"Friendship? We're not friends, Hyuk. I love you, that means we're more important than that. It means that I can ask you to quit your job and live with me."
Hyukjae says nothing for a long while. He sits there motionlessly, staring at the wall before them, and it suddenly seems to Donghae that he can't bear it. He leans over and picks up Hyukjae's hand, raises it to his lips and kisses the fingertips, one by one, the way a man kisses his beloved. And still Hyukjae doesn't move, except to rest his palm against Donghae's cheek and let Donghae's tears fall onto his lap.
"I can't," Hyukjae says at last. "Don't say anything until you've heard me through. I know that what happened to me was terrible, but Pierre has promised me that it won't happen again, and I've been through enough with him to know that he can be trusted. This is my life, Donghae. I've worked hard to get to where I am, and I'm at this point in my life when I need to look above certain things. I don't have a family, I don't really have a home, and this job is what's anchoring me down. I need the money and stability. That's it, in plain terms. If I quit and move in with you – what are we going to live on? The bakery is losing money. If we sell it and move back to Korea, what are we going to do there? Besides, Korea's no place for a gay couple. You know that as well as I do."
"You're saying it as though I'm completely useless," Donghae says.
"You're not," says Hyukjae. "The point is, you don't want to live with me. You really don't. I'm okay for a few hours here and there every other day, but as a regular, day in day out companion – you would hate me. The people I know, the things I do – you don't want to be associated with any of it."
"What have you done that is so bad?"
Hyukjae sighs. "You can't be associated with me on such close terms. And I won't let you."
Donghae grips his fists again. "In that case, why are you here?"
Hyukjae starts to speak, but Donghae shakes his head violently. "You've just made your point clear. You don't want me to be associated with you, and you don't think I can provide for you or be a suitable partner for you, so why are you here? Why did you bother coming?"
"I came back because…"
"You obviously don't care a bit about me, all you want is money and glory and fucking around. You're right. I don't need a companion like that." He sticks his thumb out to the right. "The main road is that way. I won't see you out."
Hyukjae stands up, slowly, like he understands. He takes a few steps towards the main road, then stops and turns back. Donghae's thinking, he's walking away now, he's leaving me, he's going away forever, and if I don't call out to him at this moment, if I don't make him sit down beside me again and explain to him why I love him and why we'll work, he's never going to come back. This isn't supposed to be how it was to turn out, we were supposed to leave each other amicably, but we're going to part like this, in anger and resentment, and I never meant…
Then he thinks of Hyukjae's little speech about associations and jobs and losing money, and a voice louder than his inner self screams out in his head in capitals, WELL, SINCE YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM, LET HIM GO HIS OWN MERRY WAY!
"I came back because I wanted to see you again," Hyukjae says. "I wanted you to hold me again. That's all."
"Fuck you," says Donghae. "Fuck you and your whorish life and your disgusting morals."
Hyukjae looks at him, blinks, and then nods, like he understands. He's out of sight in approximately five seconds.
And then Donghae's inner self thinks, a shade mockingly, well there you did it, he's gone for good.
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I just want to scream and smack them both, Hyukjae because he can't leave so easily, Donghae because...I don't know, just because!! But I CAN'T! D:
I don't know what to do now. What's left of my heart is in shambles!
D:
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but then,when they finally meet and confront like that..."oh well...here they are,the confrontation and reality that I feared since Part 2.."
and I don't know...this chapter makes my heart twisted....too much emotion...ahh......
ONE THING for sure...donghae already speak up all my view about hyukjae there...I have nothing to say....
and..
"You know that our friendship means a lot to me."..don't know why this one statement I'm sure hurt so much right to the target....
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/rolls you around in the blanket
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crying, no, please donghae, you don't mean that! ;_;
shattered to pieces ;_;
♥
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wae wae wae did u make my heart like thissssss ? too much to be digest in a chapter . dying . seriously .
u better update a nice chapter next or I'll . I'LLLLLLLLLLL KILL YA !
u shud hv put angst at the intro for a warning D:
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This is so sad and I should study now but instead I'm gonna go get some ice cream and cry in front of my tv...
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no.....donghae just can't understand hyukjae & his life..
and hyukjae...i know he loves donghae too
maybe he just d on't want to admit it because he knows he'll hurt himself & donghae
his work is everything for him....
and donghae is worried too much...
hyukjae is not an ordinary whore...
that hateful event won't happen again as pierre already promised~
i dunno...their love is just not strong enough....yet~
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I don't even know how to pick up the pieces of my heart that has been stepped on, ran through a shredder and then fed to the dogs!
It's so painful that I'm smiling and rejoicing at the turn of events like I don't even know why I'm laughing and crying and just let me hug Donghae and Hyukjae!!!
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"Fuck you," says Donghae. "Fuck you and your whorish life and your disgusting morals. Hyukjae looks at him, blinks, and then nods, like he understands."
;~~; i think my heart stopped for some seconds when I read these lines.
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No, hae... Go after him right now!!!
Sigh... Anw that stupid sicko doing such a thing to hyuk...
And it's understandable for hae to say such things to hyuk...
But still, hyuk's just being insecure...
Kyaaaaaa~ Hae, u can't just let him go...
Anw i'm secretly enjoying this chapt...
Haha... I love this kind of drama...
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this is just heart-wrenching tbh
i love your writing okay ;_;
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/UGLY SOBBING.
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OMG HOW COULD YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU DDDDD:
DONGHAE PLEASE GO AFTER HYUKJAE!! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASEEEEEEE T________T
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I feel sorry for them.
Hyuk has been abused and hae has been rejected
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Well, I hope they make up soon.
Cant wait for the next chapter.
And oh, will this story reach 10 chapters?
Thank you for writing this awesome fic. You're one of my favorite authors! :DD
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No, I think the next chapter will be the last!
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Will Hyuk stay away like Hae asked? He might since he thinks it's best for Hae to move on and find someone more "suitable". Will Hae go in search of Hyuk again? I don't think Hae has ever gone over to Hyuk's home. Hyuk has been in control of this relationship - when and where they meet - and I think it's time for Hae to try to take some control.
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ANYWAY. CRIES.
WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS ;_________;
HYUK PLS CHANGE YOUR MIND SOBS AND HAE DON'T BE SUCH A STUBBORN ASS
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Fuck, fuck fuck, I'm crying like crazy. I just can believe it. I have so many feelings right know that I can even remember how to write in english. i want to scream at both of them to get over themselves and just be together. esto no puede estar pasando. ellos no pueden terminar de esa forma. dime q no es cierto y q vaz a actualizar pronto. pq no puedo con mi vida luego de leer esto.
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oh gosh...i can so feel how donghae loves hyuk sooo much... it breaks my heart
fuck that...friends don't fuck hyuk!
the situation really looked helpless....
both of them have a point.
you managed to make them have very valid points
*sigh*