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Inferior (Donghae/Eunhyuk, Donghae/Jessica, R) for cheese_on_sauce
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sujuexchange
Title: Inferior
Author: lopkite / [personal profile] pointlessnuances
Recipient: cheese_on_sauce
Characters/Pairings: Donghae/Eunhyuk, Donghae/Jessica
Rating: R (for swearing and brief mentions of sex)
Genre(s): Angst
Warnings: N/A
Author's Note: I hope this is what you were looking for! This is the first fic for SJ that I've written and I really enjoyed this prompt;; thanks to midorisaranghae for the extremely thorough beta~ <3



You scrub a worn hand over your face, and glance out of the frosted window to see the car that you share with Eunhyuk peel out of the parking lot and down the street. It’s the second time this week that he’s left for work without you, the both of you sharing a workplace notwithstanding.

A headache threatens to pound behind your eyes as you empty the contents of your half-eaten cereal down the drain and grab your coat off of the back of his chair. You don’t know why it’s there, but you do know that at one point you would’ve smiled because it was. Ruffling your hair into place, you glance around the living room making sure you have your things, mostly to avoid any jabs that can be made about forgetting your wallet. Satisfied, you head out the door.

You fucking dread going to work, but you love your job.

You’re still fresh and in your 20’s with only a degree in marketing and a minor in music coupled with a pathetic internship under your belt. You are basically useless to any company other than the one that you interned with all throughout college in hopes that it would eventually land you with a proper job. But when prospects began to look dim, you had tried your luck with some talent agencies and freelanced for a while, but that ended up the way most of those types of jobs do. So now, with the company going bankrupt, it was only natural that you jumped ship with Eunhyuk to cast a line somewhere more promising. Neither of you were expecting it when Eunhyuk was hired as a manager and you under him.

The ride to work on the underground is always the same: stressful, and monotonous. Hurried office workers slosh their coffee while trying to balance files in one hand and hold the railing, breakfast, and maybe a cell phone or two in the other. School children snooze with their heads clacking against the windows and iPods blasting in their ears. You are stranded in the midst of it all, hands clenched together, your soft face a mask of hard lines in apprehension for the day to come.

You don’t wonder too much about how it became like this anymore, but the thought strikes you idly as you swing in through the turning door and say your obligatory good morning’s to the receptionist. She eyes you weirdly, as if she knows something is wrong, but you’re beyond caring. There was a time that given the proper look, all of your problems would have come tumbling out to the nearest sympathetic ear, but being here with these people and working in this office has taught you that no one gives much of a fuck.

As part of the routine, you first check on the studio. You grimace as the keyboard mocks you from the corner and the mixer taunts you with the fact that if it weren’t for Eunhyuk, you wouldn’t even be here.

The only bright spots in your days are the times spent with Jessica, your cubicle mate, and Henry, the overeager intern that really shouldn’t be fooling around with his Business major and seriously pursue music. He has so much talent balled up in him that sometimes it shines out of his eyes, and spills into his chipmunk-cheeked smile.

The kid reminds you of when you were younger, happily composing your life away in front of an out of tune piano that only offered hope and criticism, and beside you a supporting hand with a glass of strawberry milk with two straws. The space between the musical notes was your second home, a place where you and your friends had a chance at sanctuary from the world of unemployment, and the place that you and your best friend had fumbled clumsily into a relationship.

This is why this fight is unlike the rest that you and Eunhyuk have fought. Some of the fights have been serious and some have been petty, but this is different. Before, you had been childish and whiny and he had pushed you away, only to yank you closer. Now you’re just pulling away and it isn’t even a fight is it because it’s one sided, and what entitlement do you have, to ask him to hold you back?

It has to go both ways, you have to remind yourself. You cling harder than most, and your pride doesn’t get in the way of much. Eunhyuk is someone that you’ve held onto shamelessly for the past 15 years. What were the chances that your hobbies, your careers, and your affections would all coincide? It’s hard for you to let go, and yet here you are waiting for the perfect chance everyday to cut the last vestige of an official relationship between the two of you.

You sip bitterly at coffee you don’t even like as Jessica swirls the dregs of a sugary cinnamon drink around in a cardboard cup. The assignments aren’t heavy for this week, just two jingles for a new face wash product. The same two jingles that have been scrapped over four times each, have been scrapped once again, the email Eunhyuk sent you reads.

‘This is due by Wednesday, by the way. The company is trying out a new marketing tactic and you just don’t-’ you close the browser and rest cool fingertips against the lids of your eyes.

Jessica shifts in her chair and taps your shoulder. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just better get started on this week’s stuff,” you reply gruffly. You don’t mean to be rude, but Jessica has this way of understanding you that puts you at ease, at least around her.

“Let me know if you need any help. I’ve been trying to get us some airtime on this new radio station for a couple of our older ads, but until they call back, I’ve got nothing to work on.”

Jessica is the team’s media adviser and basically gets paid for forcing TV and radio stations to broadcast the ads that the company puts together. You used to envy her job until you saw how forceful she had to be to get things done. Either way, Jessica is just a small comfort and Henry even less. Neither hurt to look at or talk to, but they aren’t the ones that you want around. You aren’t averse to making friends, a needy person such as yourself, but quantity has never amounted to quality and what do you do when you want something that you already have? Eunhyuk doesn’t neglect you, you still cook together at home and doze in TV lit rooms, but when you share those once special things with someone who now feels like a stranger, it’s not the same. You feel like a child again wishing you were grown up already so your parents would start treating you like an adult. Some days you just look at him and feel so useless, so worthless, just…incompetent. It’s a constant struggle everyday to make things work when you no longer deserve him. You started seeing him in a new light when he started sitting separately, sipping at delicate lattes while the rest of you helped yourselves from the atrocious coffee maker. You have your sleeves rolled up, elbow deep in pen marks while he clacks away at his ostentatious Mac. You much prefer the robust sounds of silly tones on the synthesizer but it doesn’t lessen the sting of the fact that you’re pressing sounds into the air while he presses your salary into existence.

You sigh as you throw away your coffee and head into the studio, there are only so many things you can sing about to sell skincare, but your company always finds idols to endorse and sponsor, and it becomes less about the catchiness of the song and more about them. It may have bothered you a little in the beginning, but now you just want your work to be appreciated and pass whatever standard Eunhyuk holds it to. You’ve never expected him to like everything you send his way, but rejecting 15 seconds of a song 5 times now is really too much, especially when he doesn’t even tell you what to fix. You rack the creative powerhouse your mind used to be, but now all it holds are melancholy harmonies and unhelpful thoughts of escape.

The drive back home is tense and uncomfortable, at least on your part. You’re hunched in front of the steering wheel while the CD Eunhyuk put on pipes in through the speakers at what seems like half speed. He dozes in the passenger seat and leaves you to fight off the late evening traffic.

“We’re here.” You brake unforgivingly into a halt. Eunhyuk is thrown forward by the force and caught by his seatbelt, quite a rude way to be woken no matter how effective.

“Ow! Yeah, okay.” He disentangles himself and follows you up the four stories into your apartment. The two of you used to share it with two other friends back in college, and decided to stay even after the others went their separate ways. It was a special place for so many reasons, not just because of all the memories or the other mushy things they listed when their mutual friends asked why they hadn’t gotten a new place yet, but because it was theirs. Sustained and nurtured along with a love that they had to finally recognize. Maybe that was the mushiest reason of all, but you didn’t see it anymore. What used to be a sanctuary was now the opposite. It was work away from work where you were chained to feelings of worthlessness no matter what you did, because at home, the two of you weren’t separated. You were in each other’s space all the time. You had purposefully looked for a small apartment back then, something with only one bedroom, two bedrooms, anything that would give you an excuse to be close, closer, and even closer still.

You regret it now, you think to yourself, savagely ripping off your tie and stuffing it into the bottom of your sock drawer. Eunhyuk undresses carefully and asks if you care to join him in the shower. You roll your eyes at his politeness and shake your head no. You miss the wistful way he looks at you when he darts into the bathroom with promises of being quick. You don’t care, you want him to take his own time, you want him to take all damn night. You don’t want to be here when he comes out looking perfect, smelling perfect, flouncing off to perfectly cook dinner, after which he will perfectly offer it to you, being perfectly normal.

It drives you crazy, because you are the only one out of odds right now. You want to shake him and make him see that you feel differently, but maybe it was always this way to him, maybe you feeling less than adequate as a person next to him was so damn normal that when you finally realized it, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Before you really knew what it meant, he would always joke that you couldn’t do anything without him, and it was partly true. You needed him. After what happened with your family, after seeing your dreams of becoming a dancer killed with one audition, you hung onto him like a lifeline. He never said no but looking back on it, he never quite said yes. You were easy and convenient and that notion among others haunts you all night, permeating your thoughts even after dinner when Eunhyuk’s hands ghost over your chest, stomach, and hips, his face looking like he wants to bring you pleasure. You really aren’t in the mood.

You turn away to face the wall, throat tight and an ache behind your eyes. You want him to take the hint and give up, but a hand smoothes over your back. “I love you,” Eunhyuk repeats over and over again as he molds himself to you. “Donghae,” he whispers breathily as you turn your dark eyes towards him, “I love you.” There isn’t an answer, so he tries again. “I love you?” he says desperately. You close your eyes and move away.

The whole team is staying late today, possibly even in the midst of pulling their first all nighter with the new additions to the group. And it’s your entire fault. You stare at the keys of the keyboard willing a tune, any tune, preferably something Eunhyuk will like to come to you. The artists who are going to record the song haven’t shown yet, and at least that’s one worry off of your mind. You have no clue how you would’ve explained to frenzied managers why there isn’t even an idea for the song much less sheet music for tired idols to practice with.

Eunhyuk is in his office doing what managers do while the rest of the staff works on other projects or lazes about until it’s time to play their parts. You’re tired as well, lacking a little in self esteem and hating the fact that nothing you’ve given to the company for the last month has been accepted. It’s frustrating because you know Eunhyuk is giving you this chance, and wanting it to be your best. It’s so frustrating that he’s doing it for you while you mess around, being ungrateful and not meeting anyone’s expectations.

Your friends have decided to stick this out with you while everyone else is off doing their own things. Henry’s using this as an excuse to stay up all night and catch up on homework and studying, but Jessica, even through her heroic efforts at moral support, has fallen asleep, a chin in her palm and maybe a bit of drool pooling at the corner of her immaculately colored lips.

You only stare as long as strictly necessary before you resume the strenuous task of trying to please people you have no idea how to.

“Sica, Sica!” You probe at her shoulder and watches bemusedly as she jerks out of sleep, dragging a hand across her face and smearing pale pink across her cheek. You don't say anything but can’t help your smile, “Do you have any ideas at all? I know this isn’t your job, but I have no idea what they want anymore. I don’t know why they couldn’t have just employed an outside composer instead of insisting on me.”

“Probably cheaper,” Jessica says sitting up and rearranging her hair.

You don't let her see the effect of her casual jab. You wonder again if you're being too naive by thinking Eunhyuk was trying to help you get back on your feet. This is a business after all. You brush away your pesky thoughts and show Jessica what you have so far. “You dabbled in music too, right? Please tell me you can read this stuff.”

Jessica punches your arm. “Just let me see.”

You have two lines of notes so you don't know why she’s looking at it for so long until she starts humming to what you do have, surprisingly on key.

Impressed, you stare at her from under your bangs as you lay your head on folded arms on the desk, carefully avoiding the keyboard, content to listen to the hum on repeat as Jessica painstakingly works out what she doesn’t have to.

It’s for the umpteenth time that you wonder why her nickname is Ice Princess. Sure she can be a little cold, but from what you can see, she’s only the slightest bit chilly and a lot eager and flustered, at least around you anyway.

A soft padding noise cues you in to the fact that Eunhyuk is coming up the hall to check on you all. You lift your head up and look at Jessica, who is now trying the melody out on the piano.

The door clicks open and Eunhyuk comes in showcasing a smile. “Well, what’s the word on the progress?”

You want to crawl under a desk and die, not only do you keep failing, but it’s 1 in the morning. People want to go home, and you’ve barely started on what will take hours to become a final product.

“We-”

“Jessica,” Eunhyuk interrupts you, “Your lipstick is kind of smeared.”

“Hm?” she touches her cheek and the pads of her fingers come away with color. “Thanks,” she says, taking out her compact and using the mirror to readjust herself.

You grab onto it. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you say cheekily and she swats at you after she’s done. Eunhyuk’s smile becomes a little strained.

“Anyway,” Jessica continues for you, “We’ve gotten about two lines done, so maybe instead of releasing the full CF song like we were supposed to, we can shoot a teaser for now?”

Eunhyuk frowns. “It’ll be an unnecessary expense to call the artists back, might as well do it all in one go and we can shorten the full length as we need.”

Assuming he even liked the full length.

You nod your head, determined not to show weakness in front of an audience. “I think I’ve got something good going right now. Want to hear it?”

“Just did,” Eunhyuk points out, gesturing to Jessica’s piano playing.

“Right…so what do you think?”

“This one is different,” he notes, “Got any lyrics for it yet?”

“Working on it!” Henry pipes up from the back, effectively saving your ass.

“Alright then, um…just let me know when you have a solid 30 seconds and we’ll see where we can go from there.”

You signal a solemn agreement and Eunhyuk leaves with a stilted walk, out the door and down the hall. The next hour and a half is spent composing a song that you hate and when Henry hands you the printed version, what you want most is to rip it to pieces. Instead you take the walk of shame to Eunhyuk’s office and hand it in without speaking to him or waiting for an answer. He can email you.

You lean against the wall and take a steadying breath; you shoot a subtle look at Eunhyuk who is currently looking over your work. He’s completely into it and you anxiously gauge his reactions that suddenly seem so far away from behind the plexiglass and the distance.

You try valiantly to push despairing thoughts to the back of his head, but what do you do when you know you aren’t good enough and possibly never were? You can deal with feeling worthless, dignity isn’t something you hold in high regard, but Eunhyuk is someone that you care about enough to make sure he always has a spot in your life. But selfishly, you aren’t sure if you can do it anymore.

You walk back to your desk and sit pensively waiting for an IM or an email. Sure enough, 6 minutes later, a faint ding resounds and you find that Eunhyuk has approved your song. Slowly, all of your coworkers return to their desks or wake up from their naps and the whole team buzzes to life. Preparations are made to make this ad and jingle a reality.

Henry whoops and pats your back at the good news, and Jessica coquettishly congratulates you and you should feel happy at a job well done. You’re relieved, but you are sure that the song got through because Eunhyuk took pity on you and realized you never could meet his standards. The self confidence you deluded yourself into building dwindles a little more.

You and Eunhyuk stumble home at eight in the morning, thankfully granted the day off after a night of nonstop working. You resist the urge to flop into bed fully dressed and force yourself through a meal and stand under the pounding spray of the shower.

“Donghae?” A knock accompanies the muffled sound of your name.

You don’t turn off the shower. “Yeah?” You wait for him to ask if he can come in and are glad that you locked the door behind you.

“I’m leaving okay? I don’t think it’s right of me to not go in today at least even for a little, so I’ll be back later, see you soon.”

That wasn’t what you expected at all. “Okay,” you call back pretending the choke in your voice is because of the water in your mouth.

A Christmas party break up, you had mused to some friends a while back. Appalled by your decision, they gently reminded you that even if you broke up with him, especially if you broke up with him, it’d be torture to see him at work every day. But you’re on a one track mind and nothing can change it now. Everyone had always made fun saying that you couldn’t do anything without someone, Eunhyuk or not, and you worry that it’s true. Regardless, there’s a kind of passion between the both of you that makes you wither a little at how easily you’re willing to let it go.

The twinkling of festive lights mock you as you lead Jessica up the ornate steps of a needlessly fancy hotel. It was the perfect place to do it, Eunhyuk was too distracted by work and had arrived on his own, probably bringing someone from his elite circle with him. He wouldn’t pay you too much mind and would be happy to move on. You try your hardest make yourself believe this fantasy that deciding to break up with Eunhyuk has nothing to do with your feelings of inferiority, and that you announcing your resignation soon afterwards wouldn’t be like two slaps in the face.

You want to believe that this isn’t incredibly selfish and that this is the real you, a you made by the harsh reality of the world where you completely understood why people didn’t date their bosses.

Hollow eyed, heavy hearted, and slightly pre-gamed, you part your way through the crowds of smartly dressed employees and intimidating higher ups to spot Eunhyuk. He’s surrounded by your team, and you leave Jessica behind when she catches sight of Henry.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” you explain. But she waves you off, more interested in the slight boy with razor sharp cheekbones accompanying Henry.

Fighting back a flare of jealousy and envy at Eunhyuk’s easy popularity, you stroll over to the bar, a smile firmly pasted into place.

You went into work Thursday morning panting from walking up the twelve flights of stairs just to avoid Eunhyuk in the elevators. Feeling pathetic and miserable you unwrap the knitted scarf from your neck, completely not in the mood to talk to anyone.

This is of course exactly when Henry rushes over to you and thrusts a couple of papers in your face. “You haven’t forgotten about the company Christmas party, have you?” he asks while you look over his latest violin and piano composition. It makes you feel kind of good that you are still useful as a second eye and suddenly your stomach drops as you’re reminded.

Office Christmas parties are the bane of every jaded worker’s existence. You are no exception. This might have even been a bit fun for you if it weren’t for the fact that the whole night was going to be a kiss up fest.

“Who are you taking?” Henry asks insolently, “I haven’t found anyone yet before you ask me, but you?”

“Jessica,” you say thoughtlessly.

Jessica leans out of her cubicle without missing a beat, “Pick me up at seven.”

The music is Christmas themed, cheery and vivacious even though the song you sway Jessica to is slow. “You look really good tonight,” Her hands migrate from your shoulders to around your neck. Offhandedly, you think how different it is to have delicate nails resting on your nape as opposed to Eunhyuk’s blunt digits threading through your hair.

Jessica is clad in a red dress tonight, it accentuates her newly dyed honey blonde hair, and the dim yellow light that shines around the room creates shadows across her face. Each time you look down, you’re greeted by the silhouette of a fairy nose. Jessica looks radiant tonight, and when you tell her so, a blush flutters over her face. It’s cute to see her strong willed façade crumble in the face of compliment.

Just as you place your hand more appropriately on Jessica’s hip, a rude but familiar hand pries your hand off of Jessica’s tapering waist and leaves it to hang. Blankly, you stare at Eunhyuk. That was a little unnecessary.

“Sorry,” Eunhyuk says rather unkindly, “But I’m going to have to steal Donghae for a second.”

“Oh, okay.” Jessica steps away, and you suspect that she wouldn’t have if the song weren’t conveniently ending. “I’ll be with Henry,” she lets you know and slips back into the crowd to crash a little more on the poor boy’s date.

Eunhyuk watches Jessica leave distastefully. “Let’s go outside,” he suggests and begins to lead the way.

He rounds on you the second the pair of you are tucked away in a discreet nook where the stone amplifies the bitter cold of December. “You never told me you were taking a date!” he accuses you in a hushed huff of mist that’s more hurt than angry.

It’s useless to defend yourself and emotion pricks the back of your throat. You wonder who Eunhyuk brought to the party. You wonder why it never occurred to you to take him. Regardless, you doubt that he would’ve wanted to take you in the first place.

“Didn’t you bring a date as well?”

“Yeah, I told everyone that I was with you!”

Well fuck. “I don’t know why you did.” You say snidely, shuttering your expression.

That seems to set something off in Eunhyuk, and he stops whispering. “Because we are in a relationship? Because we are together so it’s obvious that I would’ve wanted you to be my date? I’m sorry I didn’t bring a ring to ask you,” he finishes sarcastically. “I just assumed you’d do the same.

It’s sadistic to break up with Eunhyuk now, especially when he looks so vulnerable despite his words. But you realize that this is the perfect time. You want to break up with him and maybe just for a second, have the upper hand. It’s a sick game to play, this feeling of inferiority. You’re through with dealing with the ache of not being good enough, and yet, despite everything, the last thing you want is to hurt him. All you came to do was put an end to a relationship that just wasn’t working. Maybe you are the problem and the cause and you hope that you are because that will mean that you are also the solution.

He looks at you strangely waiting for a response. Eunhyuk crosses his arms and eyes you expectantly. The silence of the outdoors is deafening, and his brows lose the tension that knitted them together. “Well say something.”

You expel a breath, the cold giving a physical form to syllables that you practiced over and over in your head. “I think I’m done with you.”

Expressions clash on Eunhyuk’s face and finally devastation emerges triumphant. “W-what?”

There’s no delicate way to put this, and even though you’re usually considerate of others feelings, you’re blunt and slightly heartless right now. “Let’s break up.”

His back thumps against the wall. “Why? I thought that we were okay!” His lower lip trembles dangerously and endearingly. “I know that we haven’t been the...same, but I thought that we were getting over it? You know that it isn’t my fault that our jobs were assigned the way they were.”
You suck in a breath; he knows the exact root of the reason and is still in denial. “So you know what the problem is. You know this isn’t going to work. I’m not good enough for you so you don’t have to keep trying only to be disappointed.”

He grips a chunk of his maroon red hair in a hand and stalks over to you. “What the hell do you mean?” His voice is strung out with unshed tears and he’s fiercely biting his lower lip in attempt to keep it that way. “I care about you! You were the one that was acting distant!”

“Because I’m not good enough!” you explode. Eunhyuk looks taken aback, and it really wasn’t supposed to be this way. You had a nice little scenario planned out where you would gently tell him that you wanted to go your separate ways and he would readily agree. You would be left to pine after him forever and everyone would be happy.

He wasn’t supposed to attack you. He wasn’t supposed to be clinging this hard, hands fisted in the lapels of your jacket, his head tucked under your neck. “You’re too good for me, Hae. Why are you done with me when I don’t want to let go of you?” There are two wet points on your shirt when he lifts his face and you cruelly step back. He lets his hands drop and they dangle awkwardly by his side. “You don’t have to make this stuff up to let me down lightly.” An earnest look overtakes his face and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. “I know that you like Jessica. I get it; I can’t compete with a girl.”

You stare at him. “Jessica?”

He scuffs the stone work floor with a dress shoe, “I didn’t really figure it out until the end,” he admits hollowly, “I didn’t think that there was much that I could do. How can you say that you’re not good enough for me when it’s obviously the other way around? I didn’t think I….You’ve always only had eyes for me before and when that changed...” He trails off and looks away.

You’re offended that he thought that of you, especially when all you can think about is him. You don’t mean to flatter him by that or anything, but even when you don’t want anything to do with him, he’s all you want. But his heart is broken too. A workaholic he may be, but Eunhyuk isn’t one to put up fake fronts and lie about his feelings. “This isn’t about Jessica,” you start, “I don’t like her and I’m not cheating on you.”

Eunhyuk looks at you like this is news to him. “You aren’t?”

You comb fingers through your hair to hide your surprise that he believes you just like that. “Hyuk.” And it’s just like it used to be, he’s at the tip of your fingers waiting to give you everything and you’re clinging so tightly that there’s no room to reach out. “It kills me to know that you’re better than me and that you always will be.” Stunned into silence, Eunhyuk waits for you to keep talking.

“You’re right, it did start with the whole job thing, but that’s not where it ended. I just started seeing it everywhere, and now I kind of hate you for it and that’s not something I want to feel for you.” There you go pretending to be selfless again. “Can we just break up? Can we just stop? I don’t want to be with you at the expense of my confidence.”

“Let’s go home. Everything is better when you’re somewhere familiar.” Eunhyuk has a hysterical look about him and is dragging you towards the car.

“What about Jessica?”

The look that Eunhyuk gives you is so withering that you mumble something about texting her instead.

The car ride back has Eunhyuk talking nonstop; and it’s everything you hate: the sound of his voice when he’s trying to coax out your laughter.

At home, he sits you on the bed, swathes you in the covers and looks at you with watery eyes that are meant to convince you to stay. You don’t know whether you are annoyed by all of the efforts or if you are just basking under his attention. You may be something of an attention seeker, but one that only sought Eunhyuk’s. You almost smile at memories of feeling jealous towards Eunhyuk’s laptop and video games when they consumed more of his time than you did.

“Just talk to me, Donghae.” He pleads pathetically. “I don’t know why you stopped doing that in the first place.”
Maybe he’s the sympathetic ear you needed, because your mouth drops open and everything you didn’t mean to say comes rushing out in a series of jumbled vocable. A sense of freedom accompanies your confession and after getting over the shock that you are going to be handing in a resignation, Eunhyuk hugs you. It’s a hug that reminds you of high school. It’s a hug that feels like the one Eunhyuk gave you when he scored the winning goal of the soccer championships, the first time that he was the one that refused to let go. “Donghae, it’ll get better now right?” he says hotly into your neck, “The problem is dealt with right? You can love me again, right?” He asks tentatively, “Do you still love me?”

The dialogues are a little dramatic but in the heat of the moment, you don’t mind. It doesn’t bother you that you’re the one giving up a job. It isn’t the first time you’ve given something up for Eunhyuk’s sake. Just the fact that he still wants you there, this time more than you want him, is enough for you to try to combat your feelings. Before, you were all or nothing, but there is something to be said for safe guarding your heart.

You turn the tables and crush him under your weight because you’ve missed him even though he’s right there. He was right there the whole damn time and you missed him anyway because it wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to suffer an identity crisis right when he needed you most. He wasn’t supposed to be as dense as he was when you are as lost as you are. But now he knows, and that makes a world of difference. A wet palm slides against yours as you lock your fingers between his, and a smile is crooked into your neck, damp exhalations imprinting it there. It’s a desperate race to fuse, and this isn’t a competition you realize. Eunhyuk doesn’t suddenly praise you to the high heavens, but he’s gotten over the initial thrill of his job and is once again able to pay attention to things that were neglected.

“It’s not just going to be resolved in a couple of hours or days, Hyuk,” you tell him truthfully. You don’t hate him but you’ve half convinced yourself you do. “It’ll take a while before I can say it again.”

It’s all still rocky; everything that was built has been hacked down and buried. To dig it back up will be another challenge all together but maybe with restraint and mutual feelings, it can happen.

Eunhyuk is pressed to the sheets and muffled under your weight but you can feel the wet of bared gums. “I can wait.”

This entry was originally posted at http://sujuexchange.dreamwidth.org/18913.html.

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