Jusrecht (jusrecht) wrote,
Jusrecht
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WonKyu fic dump #1


Since I have so many unfinished WonKyu drafts, I've decided to just post some of them, at least those already taking shapes. These are the works that I'm not going to finish, so no point in keeping them just to gather dust in my laptop. If you want, do read on, but bear in mind that I'm not planning to continue any of these :)

These are the first three.




bandfic, future!fic, after breaking up


The most heart-breaking thing about breaking up is not the separation

It’s not the ringing emptiness in your head, or the feeling that your entire body has been scrubbed raw, inside and out. It’s not the succession of listless Sunday brunches, listening to your mother’s I told you so’s for weeks and weeks afterwards because, well, she had told you so; the ‘thing’ wasn’t going to work. Neither is it the nervous smiles and awkward consolations from your closest friends as they tiptoe around you during those first few months after the breakup.

It’s the fact that you, in the end, move on. It’s the truth that time heal all wounds. It’s the all-too-clear evidence that you still continue living after the ordeal and there is no such thing as forever—because everything has a beginning and, more importantly, an end. Even pain and unendurable misery and a broken heart.

Then one morning, you open your eyes to a bright blue sky outside your window and discover that you can live without Cho Kyuhyun after all.

In the end, what is left is the knowledge, the unbending, unfeeling truth that something that once meant so much for you can become almost nothing.

For the last time you cry, for him, for every we, us, and I love, adore, need you. For all that once was.

And then you move on.





Twenty-seven months, three weeks, and five days after the breakup, you finally see him again.

You are different now. Older. Stronger. More handsome, according to some, and definitely far more successful. Confidence is a cloak you wear daily, achievement your constant mistress. You are your own man, and rightly so.

One glimpse of him, however, and that castle in the air crumbles to dust.

He is still a sight to behold, dressed in black from head to toe, a blue scarf loosely wound around his neck. Thinner somehow, the lines of his face firmer. There is an air of utter indifference as he leans against your new Lamborghini, seemingly without a care in the world.

The first thing you realise: the sight of him still takes your breath away, and for this you hate him.



-----



The backstory for this fic


Siwon doesn’t remember how many people he has killed.

It was all about survival, in the beginning. He was nine and alone and helpless and there was a man eyeing him with the sort of hungry interest that no nine-year-old kid should ever provoke. He remembers the strong hand clutching the back of his thin, ragged shirt—but not the man’s wild eyes. He remembers an empty alley and the rough wood plank cutting into his face—but not his own muffled screams. He remembers the crippling fear. The smell of sweat and cigarette. The salt of his tears. The choking despair.

And he remembered that the man had a gun, loaded with bullets. His first kill came at that instant, quick, instinctive, leaving thick splatters of blood all over his face, and a blackened soul.

The second time, a butcher had his chunk of meat stolen and pursued the thief with a cleaver. Siwon killed him too, using the same cleaver and a rock. Afterwards, came the third time. And the fourth. And the fifth.

Then he got good at it.

Then he got paid for it.

The rest was a series of blurred faces at the end of his gun.


.


Lawlessness was a habit; then a way of life. It was a lonely life, but any other kind was unknown to him. For as long as he could remember, there had only been him and an infinite stretch of empty plains and rocky hills under a sun-baked sky.

By the time he turned twenty-one, he had become one of the deadliest gun-for-hires in the Wild West. Another year put him on the top of the list in every sheriff’s office. Soon enough, he was the most wanted outlaw in the continent, the mere whisper of his name sending doors locked tight and windows barred shut.

They gave him a name: The Triple Guns, for his three mistresses, a rifle and two pistols. Legends sprung in his shadow. Fireside stories whispered his name as he left a trail of bodies in his wake. There was literally no one he could not kill—or would not kill, for an appropriate sum.

Until one day.


.


The child could not be more than six years old.

She was a happenstance. A victim of hundreds of coincidental factors. One of these factors put her as the daughter of his intended target—and therefore at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

He pulled the trigger, at the right moment as always, just as she flew out of nowhere, eager for her father’s arms.

In his head, memories came in flickers and flashes. He remembered a slew of little things. Her dress was that of summer sky, and she had her hair in pigtails and matching ribbons. Her cheeks were rosy with laughs and life, before one bullet robbed both off her in a blink of an eye. The spread of blood stain was slower but no less sure, swallowing the blue of her dress.

Brightness faded from her eyes. She was dead before her body hit the ground.


.


The thing about killing a child: there was a world of difference with killing an adult.

The gaping chasm in his heart suddenly split open, unleashing emptiness within. He did not throw up, but only because eyes had noticed him. Turning away, he ran, leaving the chaos behind as the father wailed for his daughter.

The next time he fired his gun, he missed.



-----



Oxford!AU, WonKyu being professors


Siwon had a problem.

It was one of those problems which were neither particularly urgent nor especially important. It had begun only as a wispy thread of thought, thin and elusive in the haze of satiation after an immensely satisfying round of sex. In fact, he had not even realised that it was indeed a problem until about five seconds ago.

Five seconds ago had been the moment when Kyuhyun had turned around, all gorgeous pale skin and sweat-damp bangs, and smiled at him in that shy, quiet way of his which had never failed to spread warmth throughout Siwon’s system.

And suddenly Siwon realised, then and there, that he wanted to keep him. Keep them. Keep this small, indefinable thing that had sprung here in his bed, with Kyuhyun in his arms.

The ever-critical part of his mind was quick to scorn the use of such politically incorrect and logically impossible word as ‘forever’. The rest of him, however, was too busy drifting in a state of speechless daze to care about semantics.

“What’s wrong?” Kyuhyun raised a pair of curious eyebrows at him.

Siwon attempted a smile—and probably ended up with a grimace, if the anxious look coming to Kyuhyun’s face were any indication. It was that look which finally propelled him into action. Leaning over, he cupped Kyuhyun’s cheek and pressed their lips together in a sweet, gentle kiss, giving and taking comfort in the familiarity of the act.

“I was just thinking that you looked especially lovely tonight.”

The line successfully distracted Kyuhyun from his earlier question. Flushing with embarrassment, he narrowed his eyes (probably as an effort to seem menacing, which, nevertheless, was only successful in making him look even more adorable).

“What did you eat in New York? Too much cheesecake?”

Siwon’s grin was completely unrepentant. “No, I just missed you.”

“You were only gone for three weeks,” the other man pointed out, rolling his eyes.

Siwon feigned a hurt look. “Oh, so you didn’t miss me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Kyuhyun sputtered, suddenly bursting with guilt, and Siwon simply had to laugh and pepper his lips with kisses again. Those were accepted meekly—perhaps, even, with a hint of contrition, which he took care to smooth over with a deeper, more thorough kiss. In his arms, Kyuhyun felt soft and warm and so utterly right.

And there lay the problem.

Kyuhyun was his friend and fellow professor in the same university. From the beginning, they both had acknowledged that what they had was only a slightly broader interpretation of friendship. He liked touching, kissing, fucking Kyuhyun—and the feeling, as it happened, was more or less mutual. It was an arrangement, a convenience, and as far as Siwon understood, neither of them was looking for a serious relationship.

Or at least neither of them had been looking for a serious relationship. Right now,Siwon could distinctly feel the slow but steady shift in his opinion concerning the issue.

“It’s getting late,” Kyuhyun spoke again, accepting the last few kisses with a small, appreciative sigh. “I must go back.”

Siwon instinctively tightened his arms around the other man. “No, you don’t.”

Kyuhyun laughed, squirming and trying to worm his way out of the snug hold. “I really do. Come on, there’s still a lot of work waiting for me at home.”

“Forget them and stay here.”

“But the material for my morning class–”

“Everyone knows that your genius brain has already memorised every theory of mathematics under the sun,” Siwon pointed out, locking his fingers together on the hollow of Kyuhyun’s back. “So no excuse there.”

“But I also have to finish that code analysis for GCHQ–”

“They gave you an eight-week deadline, right?”

“Yes but the process–”

With a long, exaggerated sigh, Siwon finally let go. Kyuhyun quickly escaped, out of his reach and out of the bed in a matter of heartbeats, a wide, triumphant grin on his face.

Siwon watched in silence as the younger man began to collect his scattered clothes. There was something about the sight of Kyuhyun in his bedroom, quietly dressing himself in his rumpled shirt and trousers, which raised a maelstrom of conflicting emotions in his chest. It was a familiar sight, and yet he had never experienced this reaction in the months they had slept together.

Perhaps three weeks in New York had made him sentimental—and homesick. Still, whatever the cause, Siwon knew one thing for certain, and that was he really, really didn’t want Kyuhyun to leave.

His expression must have given away some of these, because now Kyuhyun was looking at him, fingers pausing in the middle of their methodical climb from one button to the next. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his tone worried.

Siwon couldn’t help the smile that seemed to insist on climbing to his face. This perceptive side of Kyuhyun was one of many reasons why he found the younger man infinitely endearing.

“Just the jet lag, don’t worry about it.” He rose and reached for his pants at the feet of the bed. “I’ll see you to the door.”

Kyuhyun rolled his eyes. “I know where the door is. I come here, like, I don’t know, once a week?”

Siwon grinned. “Fine, I’ll see you to your car.”

Kyuhyun only huffed and grabbed his jacket and tie. Only clad in his pants, Siwon trailed behind him, but right in front of the door, Kyuhyun turned around and leaned in to give him a brief, light kiss on the lips.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” the younger man said, complete with a blush and a sweet smile. Then he disappeared out of the gate and into his car and Siwon was left standing there on his doorstep, struggling with the problematic epiphany.

Again, it was neither particularly urgent nor especially important, but Siwon very much suspected that he was falling in love.





Kyuhyun hadn’t been lying about preparing materials for his morning class. Or the GCHQ thing.

Still, the truth was he could have easily spent the night if he had wanted to; and Kyuhyun wasn’t sure if he had. Something had shifted between them. Siwon was different, somehow, his smiles and touches and gestures—and Kyuhyun didn’t know how to feel about it.

The road was mostly deserted at this time of night. He drove his old Bentley slowly, allowing himself to indulge in the Jazz record Siwon had left in the car. The gentle, mellow tune helped to clear his mind.

Siwon was not his first. Kyuhyun’s first time had been with his professor, more than ten years ago. Now that he was an educator himself, it was easy to recognise the affair as something horribly stupid, but back then he had been too young to care. Fifteen was never the age of wisdom.

Fortunately, there was no harm done. The affair was a well-kept secret and as far as he was concerned, it was not an unpleasant experience. The professor had treated him well—doted on him even—and when Kyuhyun had left for the States to get his master degree afterwards, they had parted on a friendly note.

Siwon was a different case. They had started as colleagues, who later discovered enough reason between them to become friends. The first time they had met was in the middle of a formal luncheon to welcome new members of the academia. Kyuhyun, his head swimming with all the new faces and names, had been nursing a glass of punch in a desolate corner when someone suddenly claimed the empty space next to him and shoved a plate of apricot tart under his nose.

“Here.” He looked up and found a blinding smile accompanying that deep, friendly voice. “Try this. It’s the last one—and honestly the only good thing about this so-called ‘party’.” A pause, the smile turning playful. “Other than you, that is. And me.”

And that was how he had come to know Siwon. They might belong to different faculties, but the other man was among the first (and very few) who had gone out of their way to make him feel welcome in the university. For one whole year, their friendship had continued on a steady pace—until one night, a drunken celebration put them in bed together.

The morning after had been a painful ordeal for Kyuhyun. He locked himself in the bathroom for hours, a pathetic victim to mortification and fear more than the marginal cloud of hangover from three bottles of wine. He was all but convinced that their friendship was over.

It was Siwon’s casual manner which had saved their friendship. He waited, blessedly patient, until Kyuhyun finally emerged from the bathroom six hours later. Then they spent a long time drinking juice and nibbling on slices of fruit to ease their stomach—after which Kyuhyun finally found enough courage to return the other man’s gaze, albeit in small, nervous glances.

Later, Siwon made a light dinner for them, chatting about inane things all the while. With the help of good food and casual conversation, Kyuhyun was glad to discover that he could live through the whole ordeal after all.

It was not until the meal had ended and he was helping with the dishes, that Siwon finally approached the subject.

By approaching Kyuhyun first and trapping him in a back hug, right in front of the sink.

“How mad are you at me?”

Kyuhyun froze, the last of the (thankfully not so fragile) plates slipping from his soapy fingers. “What are you doing?” he whispered in panic, heart hammering loudly in his chest.

“I’m asking,” Siwon answered softly, lips hovering close in front of Kyuhyun’s ear, “how mad are you because of last night?”

“I’m not mad.” With some effort, Kyuhyun finally managed to drag the words from the dry clutch of his throat.

Siwon’s arms tightened. “I wish I could believe that.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Because the last thing I want is to lose your friendship. Especially over something like this.”

“I’m really not mad,” Kyuhyun repeated for the third time, desperation at last lending more decibels to his voice.

“Really?” A different tone entered Siwon’s voice; Kyuhyun swore he could feel the curve of a smile against the base of his neck. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Will you swear on three scoops of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips on top?”

It was impossible not to give in to the burst of helpless—if slightly hysterical—laughter that suddenly bubbled up his throat. “So the value of my friendship is somewhere around three scoops of ice cream?”

“The value of your friendship is somewhere around priceless,” Siwon answered firmly. “The ice cream is just a nice bonus.”

Kyuhyun rinsed his hands slowly, his thoughts all in a whirl. It was only after he had managed to arrange them in some kind of order that he turned to face Siwon.

“I appreciate that,” Kyuhyun said in a quiet voice, not quite meeting the other man’s eyes. “And I don’t want to lose you either.”

A wider smile spread across Siwon’s face. “You will never lose me,” he declared, leaning in to kiss Kyuhyun on the cheek. “You mean too much for me, Kyuhyun. Although yes, I’d also be a total liar if I said that I didn’t enjoy last night.”

Kyuhyun could feel the earlier burst of embarrassment coming back in full force. “What… what are you…”

Siwon laughed. “Don’t look so scandalised. I mean that just as something between two friends. But if you don’t like it, I swear that you will never hear me mention this subject ever again.”

“Well, I...” Kyuhyun stuttered, “I don’t exactly hate it, but–”

Siwon, predictably enough, took it as an assent.

After it had happened again for the second time—this occasion without quite as much alcohol involved—Kyuhyun finally decided that he really didn’t mind it. And since then, things had simply continued on this vein. Casual, friendly, with no string attached.

In all honesty, Kyuhyun liked the arrangement. Neither of them was looking for anything special from the other except for a little good time and some sexual relief. They definitely weren’t exclusive. Kyuhyun didn’t sleep with anyone else because he had no care for it, but Siwon, he knew, was a different story. It was downright impossible not to notice the succession of professors and assistants, all beautiful or handsome or both, who regularly offered themselves to his friend. Siwon, being Siwon, always treated them with politeness and respect, regardless of whether he took up on the offer or not.

And it wasn’t as if Kyuhyun were jealous or anything.

At least until he had accidentally seen Siwon kissing Professor Kwon Yuri from the Faculty of Psychology about two months ago.

Kyuhyun was glad to push the thought out of his mind as he parked his car in front of a quaint, white-and-blue Victorian house. For the last two years, he had been renting rooms from an old friend of his parents, a middle-aged widow who was only too glad to have a young man about the house. She liked that he was nice and quiet, and did not mind so much the mess that he often made with his books and paper. Kyuhyun himself was always happy to accept any invitation from his landlady to enjoy some home-cooked dinner.

He had just unlocked the front door when a text message arrived. It was from Siwon.

Got home okay?

Kyuhyun rolled his eyes and typed in a quick a reply.

Yes, I’m home.

Ten seconds later: Already missing you :^(

Frowning, he turned the display off and quickly returned the phone into his jacket pocket. He would leave it until later—or, if possible, even tomorrow.

The slight twinge in his chest, though, could not be so easily ignored.





Being a professor was a veritable challenge that required an immense amount of dedication.

Being an attractive professor, however, was on another league entirely.

The difficulty lay mostly in how students would compete for his attention in ways relatively stupid if not downright idiotic. Classrooms became battlegrounds of the most absurd order, no longer an institution of higher learning. Perfectly intelligent young women (and sometimes men) would become suddenly breathless or dim-witted or both upon being addressed by him. More often than not, their answers to his perfectly ordinary questions would wilt into overwhelmed silence or hurtle straight into incoherence, once they found themselves to be the object of his stare. Quite a number of them would also crowd around his desks once the class ended, flaunting their curves in tight shirts or low-cut skirts.

Today, being his birthday, was especially hectic. Through some nebulous means, his students had somehow managed to dig out this piece of information. As soon as the lesson ended, Siwon found himself surrounded by more than half of the class, accepting congratulations and presents—and also tactfully declining a few not-so-subtle invitations to a private celebration from the bolder ones.

Needless to say, he was glad to make his escape half an hour later.

After dumping the presents and his teaching paraphernalia in his office, he immediately headed for Kyuhyun’s. It was a fifteen-minute walk to the Math Department, one which he did not mind at all to make, especially on such a beautiful day.

Siwon inhaled the cool spring air deeply, basking in the simple pleasure of walking across the university compound. The institution was an old one, with a long, proud history behind it. The buildings were a testament to its successful legacy, a display of opulent solemnity with their high-vaulted corridors and imposing arches in the Gothic style.

The entire Math Department was housed in an imposi g building of red brick in the north-west portion of the ground. Siwon headed for Kyuhyun’s office in the third floor, navigating halls which had become as familiar to him as those in his own building. Friendly greetings were plenty along the way and he returned each with a smile.

He was about to knock when the door was abruptly opened from the other side and a young woman rushed out. She muttered an apology when they almost collided, and quickly went on her way without a glance at his face.

Inside, Kyuhyun was standing against his desk. There was a certain look on his face that put a lump in Siwon’s throat as a possible scenario stumbled into his head.

A scenario he had seen happening too often in their chosen profession.

“Hey.”

Kyuhyun looked up, startled. Then recognition dawned on his face and his expression relaxed a little, even ceding to a smile.

“Hi, what are you doing here?”

“Just dropping in.” Siwon smiled cautiously and invited himself in. “Wondering if you want to have lunch. Who was that girl by the way?” he asked using his most casual tone.

The look on Kyuhyun’s face became distinctly uncomfortable. “Oh. Just one of my grad students,” he mumbled, looking away.

Siwon forced a smile to his lips. “She is one fine-looking young lady.”

Kyuhyun glowered. “Are you insinuating that there is something inappropriate between me and my student?”

Siwon hid his rush of relief in an open laugh. “No, of course not. Just an innocent observation, that’s all. She’s a fine-looking woman and, well, you’re an extraordinarily good-looking man too.”

Kyuhyun scoffed and walked round his desk. “I brought that book for you,” he said, reaching into the left drawer of his desk. A moment later, a thick book materialised in his hand—a collection of Foucoult’s essays, which happened to be the topic of their conversation a few weeks ago.

Siwon received the book with a smile, grateful to have an opportunity to steady his palpitating heart. He was skimming past a few random pages when two pieces of paper fell to the floor.

A ticket—no, two tickets to a Jazz concert.

He looked up, dumbfounded, at a beaming Kyuhyun.

“Happy birthday.”

“You got these for me?” Siwon whispered, heart back to racing in a flash. “Really?”

“I saw the advertisement by chance,” Kyuhyun was beginning to explain when Siwon engulfed him in a hug.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“So.” Kyuhyun squirmed slightly in his arms, sounding breathless. “You liked it?”

Siwon laughed. “I cannot believe you asked me that question,” he muttered against the soft cashmere of Kyuhyun’s jacket before slowly letting him go. “By the way, two tickets. Does this mean you’re going with me?”

Kyuhyun rolled his eyes. “Of course not. They’re both for you, so you can ask someone to go with you.”

“Okay, I want you to go with me.”

“You should ask someone you like.”

“But I like you,”

“Not in that way,” Kyuhyun said in exasperation

Yes, in that way, Siwon almost said out loud but did not. Instead, he took a deep breath and switched tactics. “I’m asking you to go with me,” he stated.



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