Chapter 1: Foosh 


When we where younger, we would always sleep over at each others houses; Joongie and I. It seemed like there was no night we would just sleep separately in our own beds or at our own houses. We always shared a bed, the two of us. Yeah, back when Joongie still lived with his own parents, a decade ago. There is not one memory I have without him in it, but hey, that's what makes my memories so good, after all. We weren't real family, but it sure always felt that way.

Jaejoong officially became a part of my family when he was seven years old, nearly eight... that would have made me thirteen. God, I still remember that shaking little boy shuffling inside the house, clutching onto his plushie and tears bubbling up in his large eyes as my mother promised him he would lead a good life from then on. It broke my fucking heart to see it, but then he was finally there, safe, with me and my parents. His father had then died two years ago- I figured, since no one ever really told kids like us details-.
He was left with his mother, who was then swinging from heroine to alcohol and all that other shit, I suppose, and the highs those brought, while trying to cope with raising her little boy -who asked every day, without a fail, when his appa was going to come home again-. On Jaejoong's seventh birthday, she topped herself short.
Then the perverse game of musical chairs began, shifting Jaejoong from house to house (not homes), that never really did him any good; First his aunt and uncle, who beat him; second, his other aunt, who starved him; and then, his grandparents, who only lasted so long until the cancer ate their way at them.
And so at last, my own mother who had always been Jaejoong's mother best friend since the boy was just a bump in her stomach, started the battle for custody over that boy, numb with trauma and pestries, and eventually took him in our home.

Oh we had plenty of spare rooms in our house, but he stuck to my side as if he was my second shadow. He would go everywhere with me, and when I told him no, he would just cry and cry until my heart would crumble for that little seven-year-old-nearly eight-, and I would cling right back onto him until his tears had ceased and been forgotten-for as much as he could-. After several weeks passing of Joongie waking up during the night and crawling in bed with me, we moved him into my room permanently. At least then he wouldn't come crying softly at night that some monster had reared it's ugly head from his wardrobe, threatening to swallow him into his pains from the past. It was also around that time that he finally started smiling again.
It was actually only me; thirteen year old Yunho-nearly fourteen!-, who was somewhat disappointed. Because, I could, and can still remember how he would shuffle into my room at night, clutching onto that damn starfish which he couldn't even pronounce the name properly off; Foosh, is what he would call him, since he couldn't utter the English word 'fish' the way he should, which I just found plain cute. Then he would come closer and I would wordlessly flick back my duvet so he could clamber in between my covers- but he'd never let go of Foosh, ever- and tuck his body right up against mine, matching my body like a twin foetus. We'd spend the entire night, breathing into each others mouth without even budging an inch.
For months after that I would feel empty when I woke up and found him sleeping soundly in his own bed across my room, knowing that we hadn't been breathing into each others mouth, that we hadn't been pressing up against each other or whimpering against each others skin in our sleep, and I actually started to become jealous of Foosh when I would see him clutching onto that damned half-bald plucked thing instead of me. I actually missed the way he would have just muttered a shy 'thanks' before he shuffled back to his own room as dawn broke. Try falling asleep without a nightlight for the very first time when you're a kid. I realized, soon enough, that without my best friend right next to me, the center of my world became...dark.

Lost in those memories I shook my head and resumed unpacking my belongings in this new, 14 x 16 foot rectangular that I was to share with four other students. Another , squarer box grew onto our room, just like a tumor. It was our bathroom, which Jaejoong had began cleaning upon sight mumbling about bacterias or... whatever it was. Jaejoong couldn't tolerate any mess, not even though he knew he wouldn't be the one living here for the upcoming year(s). Maybe because there was so much mess in his life already.
Shaking my head again-more roughly-, I decided to try and keep Jaejoong out of my mind, at least until I got out of college, because just keeping myself focused on my work would probably be the most pain-free way to get a degree. And besides, I thought of Jaejoong as my little brother now...! And I shouldn't think about a younger brother in...that...way... No! I would chuck all essence of him out of my memories. I'd rid my mind of his soft, baby-smooth-pale skin, his luscious pink small lips and those perfect lashes accentuating two, big brown orbs, broken with trauma and sorrow... long limbs that moved elegantly no matter what he was doing... and to not even mention that jailbait ass-...Fuck! I plopped down on my bed and rubbed my fingers through my hair, trying to grow some sanity in that thick-skulled head of mine. I just had to focus, right?; on what my mother had called 'the best years of your life!'
Adults, couldn’t you just wrap ‘em up and eat ‘em? I guess I'm suposed to be one of them now...egh.

Anyway, my excuse of leaving that hell hole -never in my life had I see so many naked wimen and men at once-, came somewhere in the middle of the night in June, around 1AM, when I heard my phone buzzing and started up it's ring-tone; Jaejoong singin happily on his nineth birthday, tockling on the table (I always slept with it hugged tightly to my chest, in an off-chance that Jaejoong might call).
It's not as if I hadn't realized yet that I didn't have the brains to complete college -or let's face it, the inclination-. I'd been practically beggin God for an excuse to let me leave that fucking horrible place. I discovered college really was just a prison you had to pay to live in.
The funny thing was, I didn't cry at all when I found out that my parents had died earlier that night in a horrible car-crash. Gosh, all I could really remember was me worrying about Jaejoong.
"Is...is Jaejoong okay? God- was he in the car too?!" Those where the first words I stumbled out to the officer over the phone. Not the usual 'Are you joking?!' or 'What are you talking about?!' or any other typical statement.

Make of it what you want, but I began packing that very night. I packed everything and prepared to drop out of college right then, to go and look after my younger brother. Finally, I knew my life was taking any form of direction. And if some stuck up career officer didn't agree, then he could go fuck himself, because for the first time in my life I finally felt I was actually doing the right thing with it. For the first time, I was actually doing something that felt right.




Ah, yes, the car I basically begged my parents for on my 16th -old, but in perfect condition, thank you very much- was giving me all it had; one of my main loves in life, next to Jaejoong. Baby-blue with white fauw leather seats, straight out of the fifties, baby. I remembered when Jaejoong saw it for the first time... he'd gone all quiet and stared at it in aw before;
"Yunho, it's... da bomb!" He had squealed and clung to my neck, "Swinger!" He'd screeched.
I was inclined to agree to that and a month later I had gotten myself a customized license-plate; '5W1NG3R', if you hadn't guessed already.

Anyway, where was I?
Right. On the highway. That's where I was... tearing over it with the maximum speed allowed -and then some-. Couldn't really care less for tickets at that time, even though I was un-employed and would probably be dealing with bills and shopping soon. Whilst kicking myself in the groin, no less. That's how mad I was for ever enrolling into college so far away from my home town Jun Nam while I had someone that meant so much for me there. I managed to use my amazing driving skills -i.e. slamming my foot down on that god forsaken small pedal as hard as I could- to cut a 5 hour drive down to 3 hours and a half. And when I had pulled up on the driveway, Jaejoong, my Jaejoong already came stumbling out of the front door. My Joongie whom I'd practically had to drag out of bed in multiple occasions. I jumped out of my car and slammed the door shut, rushing to take that little thirteen year old in my arms and he gasped, cheeks wet and eyes red from crying. I hadn't ever seen him as ugly as he looked then, and he was still fucking gorgeous. He practically threw himself into my willing arms.His tears had ceased. He just couldn't cry anymore. Now he was sobbing full-force into my shoulder, shivering and shaking. His breath was tearing out of his throth like he had ran a marathon and he was so out of it I was scared he would do himself some serious damage. The worst of this was, it was partly my fault, too...

Flashback.

I pushed my sunglasses higher up over the bridge of my nose, Jaejoong standing on the driveway, his little shoulders shaking with sobs.
"Hey, hey kiddo." I had crouched down to his level and rested my hands on his shoulders.
"I don't want you to go..." He had sniffled so adorably, and clung onto me even though he was fucking pissed I was leaving him here with my parents, without me.
"But kiddo... hey, it's college. I have too." And I had smiled, while he had been crying. He had stared up at me with those heartbroken eyes and I could just read the pain from them. I bit down on my bottom lip as he took of my sunglasses to look in my eyes. He was trying to chant his physical powers on me, trying to make me stay by just looking adorable enough. But he always did, he always did...
The car roaring and ready, filled with a few left-over boxes I yet had to take with me.
"I hate college." Childish as he was, he had scrunched out and looked away. I -again- smiled, I always smiled. He said he loved that about me, that I'm always smiling for him. I smile for the both of us.
"I know Joongie, but hey... I'll be back, okay? During vacations and all, I'll be right here..." He nodded stiffly, but it hurt, he stared at a random spot I couldn't even be bugged to look at. "Promise me you will look after mom and dad for me, deh?"

End.

Gentle and careful, I started to push him back inside the house so I could button up his pajama properly in privacy. I steered him to the couch, and sat him down while I crouched down in front of him and started to fix his pajama. If it had been just any other thirteen year old, I wouldn't have known what to do... I would have been so fucking hope-less. But this was Jaejoong, my Jaejoong.
"Hyung..." He panted, his chest heaving and falling rapidly and deeply.
"Dongsaeng." Calling him my younger brother just to calm him.
"Hyung..." he whispered, "Yunho I hate myself." He breathed out and I pressed my forehead to his, rubbing his arms -a comfort position by now- until he had stopped sobbing. People who had pestered him, told him they hated them... they had always had me to respond too like some kind of an avenging angel, and I had always made them see the error of their ways and made them beg to be forgiven right in front of Jae... but I couldn't do that if he hated himself. There was nothing to do, no one to blame, no way to stop the offender from hurting him.
And that's when, for the first time, a cold slam of grief hit me in the stomach. I ran, I ran to the toilet and hurled over it. I could hear Jaejoongs voice, screeching out my name as he held me from behind and clutted onto my waist, keeping my bangs back and out of my face.
Finally the loss of my parents was taking it's toll, and there, on the bathroom floor, I cried for the first time. Cried for myself, for my loss, and cried for Miyabi and this too young, too scared little family.

The usual thing you might say after fainting is 'and then it all went black', or, 'I don't remember a thing.', but that would have been a fucking lie. I remembered everything, into detail.
I was somewhere in a world between consciousness and being passed out as I lied on the bathroom floor. In the few minutes I had been like that he had lied me in a recovery position and let me tell you- bathroom floors aren't nice on your back.
I could certainly get used to hearing Jaejoong whimpering my name, while he shook me and-auwch, it actually hurt a little. I felt horrible. Horrible for seeing Jeajoong panicking in such a state while I could hardly even move. Shaking, shaking, whimpering and whimpering...
"Hyung, hyung..." it went on like that for a few minutes.
Then, there was this bliss-full moment when Jae just... alinged down with me and tucked his knees right up against my waist, breathing roughly – the kind of breathing you do when you’re just calming down from a crying attack – straight onto my collar bone. Which you may or may not know is a very sensitive part of my body…and my younger brother just happened to be channelling his physical teasing to that zone.
Perfect.
Actually, it was.
And we just lied there. I mentally thanked God that I was in this state, and that my lower half was asleep at that, too. Otherwise, a very important secret might have just been blown. I think I might have really given the Good Lord Above his quota of grey (white!) hairs already.



Well, after first having no sleep, and then chucking up, and then having my body assaulted in the most sensually delicious of ways – well, not the most delicious, but for an innocent little thirteen-year-old I couldn’t exactly ask much more – that same Lord finally took pity on me and let me pass out completely. I guess Jaejoong somehow had managed to lug me upstairs, and had tucked me in my old bed which I was sure he had prepared even though he had been crying to breaking-point. And when I woke up, I had Jaejoong sleeping right next to me. I was still drowzy with sleep however, but apperently my lower-half thought otherwise. I was definately up and roaring to go, and I guess that must have stated allot about Jae being under the same covers as me. A trobbing headache came knocking at my door up there.
I sighed slightly, but it turned into a groan when I noticed- Jaejoong, he was doing it again.
I guess I should explain...
I don't know if it's some deep down craving for safety -or what?!-, but when Jaejoong would have re-lived the horrors of his past too much, he wouldn't just sleep comfortably and let it all go. He would cling onto the covers, he would lie there as stiff as a board and he would grit his teeth while the trauma swallowed him, deeper and deeper in it's slimy convulsing troath. His body would be so tense, you couldn't even shift him in any way. He would hold the sheets as if they where the very barrier between his life and death -if only it was that easy...- Like, he just shouldn't get too comfortable.
I mused for it seemed it had only just started. His knuckles where only tightening around the sheets, turning paler and his perfect brows wrinkled into a frown and his lips where bright-red from being bitten down on. The horrible part about it was that, once it did, you couldn't wake him up until it was over.
"Joongie..." I muttered, and rubbed his shoulder softly. "C'mon, don't do this..." I pleaded silently, but I knew it wouldn't help. For now, all I could do was hold him until it was over, share his fears and feel his pain so that when he woke up, he knew that I was there for him. I was always there for him.

'Don't make me watch you hurting like that.' I mentally pleaded- not like it did any good. So I lay there, holding his young, too-damaged body in my arms, watching the trauma inside his mind building up until he was literally whimpering with every breath he took. His fists now took a grip on my shirt, and I swear I was just clingin onto him for his own good-hand on the bibble I swear, your honour!-. It felt so wonderful even though he was as stiff as a board. If I had know that clingin onto him could feel this good, I never would have gone to college in the first place. It was like a craving I had had all along was finally being saticfied.

Then again, we where older then we really where, Joongie and I. He was just thirteen, thirteen for Christ sake! And that's the excuse I made up for myself, as I slid my hand under his shirt and pressed my lips against his stiff ones. My eyes widened at what I felt under his shirt.. he no longer had the body of a child. Things had been changing under there, and I could only imagine where els he had been changing during the time I was in college. Jaejoong was the kind of boy that wanted to be a child forever, much the reason why his favourite movie was Peter Pan. I remember how he would make me watch that damn boy flying around on the screen along with him, and how I had to save him once when he tried to jump off of the table thinking that if he just believed, he could fly. When my own body was changing I was so shy, I didn't want anyone to see me, not even my own parents. I felt guilty then, and pulled my lips appart from Jae's sweet ones, with a silent apology, promising myself and Jaejoong that I wouldn't ever let my hands wander to places they shouldn't go again, that I would let him get used to his own body first.
Then I remembered, I shouldn't have been touching him in the first place.
Aish, promises, promises..


"Yunho!" Jaejoong shot up, bursting into his third bout of tears for that day.
"Dongsaeng, hey..." I sat up, ready to give him one bone-crunching hug, but he bit down on his bottom-lip and shoved me back down in the mattress, staring down at me as if I just said the most horrible thing.
"Hyung, I'm so sorry... you're sick..." I gasped out softly and pulled the covers to my chin. I stared at him, confused for a few minutes as he rubbed his tears away. "I...I have to take care of you." He then murmured, and shuffled to get out of the bed. But I frowned, and my fingers weaved around his wrist and tugged him back into bed. I thought he might have misunderstood a few things here...
"Dongsaeng," I repeated as he let out a small sob, and finally let me sit up and hug him to my bony old chest. "You don't have to do anything, okay?" I promised gently, and fought the urge to kiss his face to bits right there. To smother him to death.. He just stared up at me with those childish, confused eyes.
"Hyung..." He whispered, and I forced a smile and shook my head, a silent plea for him to just... relax. I catched his chin between my fingers and his eyes softened.
"I came home to take care of you, not the other way around." I must have said something good right there, because a small smile appeared on his lips. That smile reminded me of the sun appearing after an day long lasting monsoon.
"Really? Hyung? You're going to take care of me from now on?"
"I'm going to do all I can, Joongie." I pledged warmly and he snatched my right hand, taking it in both of his own tightly.
"Y-Yunnie.." He stuttered, and again I pulled him against my warm body and engulfed him with my protection. And together, again, we cried. Cried for the loss of my parents and cried for my fears of the future. For him being thirteen and for me being eight-teen. A too young, scared little family. I promised myself, I pledged that I would never allow him to become twisted like me.

Hyung, I'm so sorry, you're sick...
Oh Joongie, you don't know how sick I really am, and I'm sorry... 








...Hands up, who thinks Yunho will keep his promise? ...Hmh. 
I love foosh<3