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Crimson Morning Glory
Title: Crimson Morning Glory
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Sci-Fi/Fantasy
Summary: Everything that Junsu sings into existance dies. Yoochun teaches him how to makes things live.
largo
It was unlike anything Yoochun had heard before. Sweet and sorrowful, it quenched a thirst in his soul that he didn't know he had. And then as quickly as it had begun, the music stopped and he found that the world he knew had become drab and grey, withering in upon itself.
He spent days wandering the countryside, just listening. Sometimes he would write songs. Songs whose notes, when sung by the right person, when played by the right fingers, could color a flower or make the grass grow greener.
Sometimes he would hear things, voices and instruments hiding in the darkness, making their lovers shiver without having to touch them, making the waves in the ocean roll over the sand and give up it's most precious treasures.
He listened for the people who sang the world into existence; people who, when drawing a bow across a violin, would draw a rainbow in the sky. Literally.
The songs he wrote for the people that he found were the blueprints of the world's design, and they sang life into existence.
The Composer had sent him across half the world in search of the song, the voice, the instrument that was the beginning and end of all music. That which was the perfect blend of harmonies; just the right frequency that could make forests pop up out of the ground one second and then in the very next cause them to crash to the ground like dominoes.
It had become Yoochun's life mission. Find that indeterminable factor that would sing in harmony with the world and heal people's sick bodies, clean the polluted air, but still calm the choleric infant.
In that one moment, hearing that one voice echo across the canyon, Yoochun was sure that he had found it. He had discovered it. He watched in awe as the water rippled in response, the trees stretching to it, flowers sprouting up all around him, and then fading as the voice moved farther and farther away.
Yoochun followed it. Followed the flowers as they sprouted and then withered, followed the color of the grass as it waxed and waned with each passing note.
He listened to it for days. He wondered if it ever got tired.
Yoochun desired to uncover the source of the voice, to find the person who sung with such grace and ease, who created and destroyed with each perfectly formed tone.
He was a year older when he finally found it: sitting upon a stone, singing to a morning glory that was blushing a beautiful red. Yoochun didn't know where to begin.
"You've been following me," the boy said. He picked the morning glory and looked back at Yoochun, smiling.
Yoochun found that his voice had left him. Even as he spoke, the boy's voice floated like an angel on a cloud.
"Your voice," Yoochun finally said, his own sounding rough and scratchy, "your voice is beautiful."
"It destroys things," the boy whispered, "It hurts people; I don't like it."
"It creates," Yoochun gestured to the flower in the boy's hand, "and it has brought me immeasurable joy."
"I know why you're here. You want me to sing for the world, to make things better, but I can't. Everything that I create goes away."
"Come with me," Yoochun pleaded, "I will write you songs that only create, I will teach you how to control your voice so that you can color the world with your beauty. Please."
The boy turned away and set the flower down. The color bled from it and the morning glory deflated, looking as if it had been picked days ago.
"What is your name?"
"Junsu."
Yoochun stepped forward and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let me show you how to make the morning glory live, Junsu."
Junsu looked out at the waterfall and he sung a few notes, making the water twist and turn as it splashed into the emerald pool below them.
"Okay."
andante
Yoochun wrote solely for Junsu. He wrote him a song that made the rain clouds go away and song that made the sun shine a bit brighter. He wrote him a song that made tears disappear from the faces of children and stomachaches things only spoken of in nightmares. He wrote him a song that could make people fall in love. But for some reason, nothing Junsu sang ever lasted long.
Junsu was depressed, but Yoochun promised him that one day he'd find what it was that would enable the morning glory to survive.
"I wrote something," Junsu said one evening and Yoochun's hands paused on ivory keys.
"Sing it."
Junsu did.
Something in Yoochun's heart stuttered when the morning glory on the windowsill didn't bleed crimson or stretch out towards Junsu like he was the sun.
"I wrote it for you," Junsu explained.
Yoochun's face blushed red and his arms reached up involuntarily. He was sure that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life.
allegro
Yoochun didn't know how it happened, but suddenly, the Composer asked Junsu to sing and make a building fall down. Junsu did it because Yoochun said that it was okay. When Junsu found out that there had been people in the building, he had screamed, the tones causing glass to smash and the crimson flower on the windowsill to crumple into a pile of nothingness.
They came for Yoochun that night, kept him locked in a cell, threatening to do terrible things to him if Junsu didn't sing the world to it's end. So Junsu sang. Sang buildings and forests and park benches into the ground. He waged a war he didn't believe in and cried himself to sleep every night wanting only to sing Yoochun's songs once more. To create.
When they asked him to sing a child to her grave, to make her blood boil and her hair pull out painfully from her skin, he broke. He turned around and sang them into dust. He didn't know how long he walked, but there was miles of destruction, of desolation that was entirely his fault. He sang to all of it, fixing it, and this time it didn't go away. It didn't die. And Junsu went in search of the thing that had taught him how to make life live.
tranquillio
He was a year older when he finally found it: sitting on a stone, humming a soft tune to a morning glory in one hand. Junsu didn't know where to begin.
"Have you been looking for me?" Yoochun asked.
Junsu sang because he didn't know what else to do. Yoochun blushed, his arms reaching out for Junsu like he was the sun itself.
"Did you find it?" Yoochun asked, held tight in Junsu's embrace, "did you find the way to make the morning glory live?"
"Yes," Junsu whispered, "Love."
Because nothing can live without it.
~~~~~~~
This popped into my head when I was driving back from the movie theater. It's yoosu to make up for all the lacking!yoosu in my law verse lately lol.
thoughts? it'skinda different than what i usually write lol...
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Sci-Fi/Fantasy
Summary: Everything that Junsu sings into existance dies. Yoochun teaches him how to makes things live.
largo
It was unlike anything Yoochun had heard before. Sweet and sorrowful, it quenched a thirst in his soul that he didn't know he had. And then as quickly as it had begun, the music stopped and he found that the world he knew had become drab and grey, withering in upon itself.
He spent days wandering the countryside, just listening. Sometimes he would write songs. Songs whose notes, when sung by the right person, when played by the right fingers, could color a flower or make the grass grow greener.
Sometimes he would hear things, voices and instruments hiding in the darkness, making their lovers shiver without having to touch them, making the waves in the ocean roll over the sand and give up it's most precious treasures.
He listened for the people who sang the world into existence; people who, when drawing a bow across a violin, would draw a rainbow in the sky. Literally.
The songs he wrote for the people that he found were the blueprints of the world's design, and they sang life into existence.
The Composer had sent him across half the world in search of the song, the voice, the instrument that was the beginning and end of all music. That which was the perfect blend of harmonies; just the right frequency that could make forests pop up out of the ground one second and then in the very next cause them to crash to the ground like dominoes.
It had become Yoochun's life mission. Find that indeterminable factor that would sing in harmony with the world and heal people's sick bodies, clean the polluted air, but still calm the choleric infant.
In that one moment, hearing that one voice echo across the canyon, Yoochun was sure that he had found it. He had discovered it. He watched in awe as the water rippled in response, the trees stretching to it, flowers sprouting up all around him, and then fading as the voice moved farther and farther away.
Yoochun followed it. Followed the flowers as they sprouted and then withered, followed the color of the grass as it waxed and waned with each passing note.
He listened to it for days. He wondered if it ever got tired.
Yoochun desired to uncover the source of the voice, to find the person who sung with such grace and ease, who created and destroyed with each perfectly formed tone.
He was a year older when he finally found it: sitting upon a stone, singing to a morning glory that was blushing a beautiful red. Yoochun didn't know where to begin.
"You've been following me," the boy said. He picked the morning glory and looked back at Yoochun, smiling.
Yoochun found that his voice had left him. Even as he spoke, the boy's voice floated like an angel on a cloud.
"Your voice," Yoochun finally said, his own sounding rough and scratchy, "your voice is beautiful."
"It destroys things," the boy whispered, "It hurts people; I don't like it."
"It creates," Yoochun gestured to the flower in the boy's hand, "and it has brought me immeasurable joy."
"I know why you're here. You want me to sing for the world, to make things better, but I can't. Everything that I create goes away."
"Come with me," Yoochun pleaded, "I will write you songs that only create, I will teach you how to control your voice so that you can color the world with your beauty. Please."
The boy turned away and set the flower down. The color bled from it and the morning glory deflated, looking as if it had been picked days ago.
"What is your name?"
"Junsu."
Yoochun stepped forward and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let me show you how to make the morning glory live, Junsu."
Junsu looked out at the waterfall and he sung a few notes, making the water twist and turn as it splashed into the emerald pool below them.
"Okay."
andante
Yoochun wrote solely for Junsu. He wrote him a song that made the rain clouds go away and song that made the sun shine a bit brighter. He wrote him a song that made tears disappear from the faces of children and stomachaches things only spoken of in nightmares. He wrote him a song that could make people fall in love. But for some reason, nothing Junsu sang ever lasted long.
Junsu was depressed, but Yoochun promised him that one day he'd find what it was that would enable the morning glory to survive.
"I wrote something," Junsu said one evening and Yoochun's hands paused on ivory keys.
"Sing it."
Junsu did.
Something in Yoochun's heart stuttered when the morning glory on the windowsill didn't bleed crimson or stretch out towards Junsu like he was the sun.
"I wrote it for you," Junsu explained.
Yoochun's face blushed red and his arms reached up involuntarily. He was sure that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life.
allegro
Yoochun didn't know how it happened, but suddenly, the Composer asked Junsu to sing and make a building fall down. Junsu did it because Yoochun said that it was okay. When Junsu found out that there had been people in the building, he had screamed, the tones causing glass to smash and the crimson flower on the windowsill to crumple into a pile of nothingness.
They came for Yoochun that night, kept him locked in a cell, threatening to do terrible things to him if Junsu didn't sing the world to it's end. So Junsu sang. Sang buildings and forests and park benches into the ground. He waged a war he didn't believe in and cried himself to sleep every night wanting only to sing Yoochun's songs once more. To create.
When they asked him to sing a child to her grave, to make her blood boil and her hair pull out painfully from her skin, he broke. He turned around and sang them into dust. He didn't know how long he walked, but there was miles of destruction, of desolation that was entirely his fault. He sang to all of it, fixing it, and this time it didn't go away. It didn't die. And Junsu went in search of the thing that had taught him how to make life live.
tranquillio
He was a year older when he finally found it: sitting on a stone, humming a soft tune to a morning glory in one hand. Junsu didn't know where to begin.
"Have you been looking for me?" Yoochun asked.
Junsu sang because he didn't know what else to do. Yoochun blushed, his arms reaching out for Junsu like he was the sun itself.
"Did you find it?" Yoochun asked, held tight in Junsu's embrace, "did you find the way to make the morning glory live?"
"Yes," Junsu whispered, "Love."
Because nothing can live without it.
~~~~~~~
This popped into my head when I was driving back from the movie theater. It's yoosu to make up for all the lacking!yoosu in my law verse lately lol.
thoughts? it's
no subject
this is..different.
but good different..
love it!♥
no subject
<3