Word Count: 376
Summary: Yunho gets a call.
Warnings: minor language
“Hello?” It’s four in the morning. There’s probably been a horrible car crash or something and everyone is dead.
“Yunho? Is that you? Hey!” The voice on the other line is thick with static. It lilts in a way that cuts Yunho in places he forgot existed.
Cars crash. He sits up. “Jaejoong?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”
“It’s four in the morning! Where are you?” Yunho spits the words, trying to see through the fog of sleep. It’s probably a dream.
“I’m on a pay phone somewhere. I don’t know. There’s a road, and some buildings.”
“Nothing. Good description. Do you have any idea how long it’s been?”
“No. Last time we spoke? Four? Nine years since the disbandment? Twelve years since, since, you know.”
Twelve years, three months since hands roamed in dark dressing rooms. Together they toed lines, crossed them, ran along them like train tracks. Yunho leans back against his headboard and listens to Jaejoong’s ragged breathing break through the static.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Just, uh, passing through I guess. I found your number and thought I’d try it. Should I hang up?”
Yunho jerks forward, as if the phone is going to leap from his hands. “No! I mean, no, shut up, moron. How are you doing? What have you been doing?”
“Not much, whatever really. You should be here, but I know how much you like shuffling papers. How’s everyone else doing?”
“They’re great. Asking me how you are and stuff.” Changmin’s in Europe somewhere, maybe France, who knows. Junsu’s still working, voice still fading. Yoochun hasn’t been seen since they disbanded.
“That’s good. Good to hear.”
Silence settles over them and presses down. The last ten years are foggy.
“It’s just… I don’t know.”
“I miss you too. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you later. We’ll arrange a dinner date or something. It’ll be like old times.”
“That’d be great. But don’t wait four years, jerk.”
Jaejoong’s laugh rings like neglected bells. “I won’t, I swear.”
They both inhale but the words are trapped.
“Bye, Jae.” The line goes dead.
Yunho lies down. The ceiling is sterile white and blocks the sky, Jaejoong’s sky.