|Posted 1 year ago||3 notes|
** Tumblr says I’ve reached my audio post limit. D: but here’s the song for this oneshot. clikclick
It is impossible to love her. Everyone around them made that pretty clear. Jessica Jung owned the school, more literally than otherwise. She had minions much like those Hollywood teen flicks where Queen Bees are bitchfaced blondes who keep “close friends” at a maximum of three people she can order around as much as she wants to. Except that Jessica Jung isn’t a bitchfaced blonde, at least to one person she is the exact opposite of that.
“When are you going to wake up from this little fantasy world of yours?” Tiffany’s words ringed in Sooyoung’s head for the nth time today. A couple of words weren’t right: wake up. Fantasy. It isn’t a dream. Jessica Jung is real and she isn’t some unfulfilled fantasy. Sooyoung wanted to scream it in her best friend’s face, but in a figurative implication what Tiffany said made a lot of sense.
It’s high school. People consciously do stupid things in high school, more often because of naiveté and/or hyperactive hormones, but they eventually learn anyway. High school is a worthy ground for battle scars, and there is just no denying that Jessica is worth every stake in the heart.
Sooyoung sluggishly made her way to the kitchen when her stomach gave a loud grumble. She realized she had been in bed all day. Her migraine is killing her and slight movements only intensify the pounding in her head and Tylenol wasn’t taking any effect whatsoever.
The telephone beeped as she passed the living room.
“I won’t be home tonight. Don’t wait up. And order food. I don’t think we have anything left in the fridge. We’ll visit the grocer’s tomorrow. Enjoy the weekend!” Tiffany’s voice overwhelmed the silence of the house. She was out of town visiting an old friend from middle school and Sooyoung was left alone, sick, and without food. The tall brunette grunted and flopped on the couch, feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. Her fever just got worse.
“Fany~yah, why did you have to be gone today!?” She screamed at the wall and gathered all her strength to get up. For someone who really likes food it’s weird how nothing sounds appealing except maybe chicken soup, or mushroom soup, or anything that’s warm, salty, and liquidized. Sooyoung took out a packet of instant noodles and lazily prepared the water to boil when the doorbell rang. She put down the pot and flung a robe around her before opening the door.
“You look like hell.” Jessica’s brows furrowed at once and eyed Sooyoung from head to toe. Sooyoung flinched at the gesture and tightened the robe around her.
“What are you doing here?” Sooyoung said and felt another painful throb at the back of her head. Jessica ignored her question and moved closer, feeling her forehead with concern in her eyes Sooyoung had never seen before. She felt better already.
“Oh my God, you’re burning.” Jessica said and hastily tugged on Sooyoung’s arm, dragging her helplessly back to the bedroom in quick strides that Sooyoung had to support her head to resist the excessive throbbing from moving too much.
“Where’s Tiffany?” Jessica asked, more like grilled and demanded an answer from her, and Sooyoung could only reply with broken phrases, “out of town, meet friend, middle school”, as she stared at Jessica in bewilderment. Jessica only began to take her coat off after realizing the room temperature had already made the back of her neck sweat. She was just about to complain about air conditioning when she realized Sooyoung probably was freezing.
“What are you doing here?” Sooyoung asked softly and dug under the blankets as shivers slowly crept up on her. Jessica dropped her things on the floor and sat right next to her. Sooyoung was then unsure if the chills were still caused by her fever.
“Apparently to take care of you”, the petite blonde replied softly.
Jessica reached out her hand and began stroking Sooyoung’s hair, pressing on her temples which relieved a little of the migraine. Sooyoung closed her eyes and got lost almost immediately. When she woke up, she thought it must have all been a dream, and that Tiffany was right all along until she noticed a leopard-print scarf draped around her neck that doesn’t belong in her closet, or even Tiffany’s. It was the same scarf Jessica was wearing in her dream…
“Good, you’re up. I was beginning to worry if I should already call the doctor or something.” Jessica appeared carrying a tray with orange juice (Sooyoung can only guess it was freshly squeezed because Jessica never drank from anything that was in a bottle), freshly-cut fruits, medicine bottles, and a bowl that emitted a mouth-watering tang of something warm, salty, and liquidized. Jessica put it aside to check Sooyoung’s temperature.
“It’s slowly cooling down.” She said, more to herself, and smiled contently. “I hope you like chicken soup. It’s the only one I know how to do.” Jessica secured the bowl and began feeding her, carefully blowing on it beforehand. In the morning when Tiffany comes back, she’d wonder how the fridge magically filled itself while Sooyoung lay in bed, and Sooyoung wouldn’t know either but a scarf would tell her what Tiffany doesn’t know can’t hurt her.
“Thank you.” Sooyoung said when she had taken the last dose of Jessica’s medication. Jessica ignored her and busied herself with cleaning up. Sooyoung mustered enough strength and tugged on Jessica’s wrist to stop her from moving.
“Leave it. I’ll clean it up tomorrow. Stay here.” Jessica hesitated for a moment but gave in. She was getting tired too. Sooyoung made room in her bed, clearing a space with all the vigor she could gather, making her joints protest in pain. She doesn’t care about that anymore. Jessica slid in her petite figure, slightly flinching at Sooyoung’s warm skin, but it’s getting colder anyway so the closer she can get to Sooyoung, the better.
“What time do you need to get home?” Sooyoung whispers and digs her face under Jessica’s soft tresses. They smelled entirely of sweet flowers and Sooyoung finds herself lulled instantly.
“I feel like I am already.” She confesses and turns around to face Sooyoung, tracing the contour of her face from neck to jaw. Sooyoung was completely surprised at her reply.
“Thank you. I’ll make it up. I promise. This is too mu—”
Jessica put her lips over Sooyoung’s to quiet her down, lingering longer than necessary, notwithstanding the possibility of Sooyoung’s fever being contagious. She put her hand at the back of Sooyoung’s neck to stop her from protesting.
“Shut up and just let me kiss you, okay?” She whispers and kisses more fervently, making Sooyoung give in without respite.
People said it was impossible to love Jessica Jung, more so to fall in love with her, but Sooyoung did willingly. She saw the divine beauty they didn’t, the same one they refused to see, or perhaps the beauty Jessica kept from them and divulged only for her. Maybe it’s a high school thing and maybe they’ll both grow out of it, but who cares about the uncertainty of tomorrow when all that matters now is that she’s in love with Jessica Jung and would go to the ends of the world for her not caring if she would do the same.
|Posted 2 years ago||21 notes|
It was really fun at first, how everyone was teasing him and why he still chose Yoona as his ideal girl over Tiffany whom he personally called to appear on the show as his “best friend”. Yoona acted surprised, at least, to save an explanation from Tiffany. She has been supportive of Tiffany’s relationship with Taecyeon, and she isn’t about to stop now no matter how much she regrets the decision, how it pains her every single second.
Yoona waited. She waited until the shooting was over. She waited until they got back to the dorm. Perfect timing is such a privilege these days…
“Is it real?” Yoona says. Tiffany was busying herself in the kitchen when Yoona finally catches some alone time with her. The older girl turns to her in a mixture of surprise and confusion.
“What is?” She asks. Yoona instantly looked away when Tiffany reached up her arm to get an unopened box of cereals on the top shelf, slightly revealing her waist. Yoona had seen more than just that but a distraction is detrimental to her confidence at this point.
“You and Taecyeon.” She says and settles herself on the counter stool, her back facing Tiffany.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Taecyeon. We’re just friends.” Tiffany replies coolly and pours some of the cereals in a bowl. Yoona spins the stool around and faces her rigidly.
“Why am I having a hard time believing that?” Yoona feels her frustration slowly building up in her chest as she tightly grabs underneath the chair with both hands clasped to a fist. Tiffany wasn’t looking at her and it bore a deeper hole in her pride.
“Unnie, look at me.”
When Tiffany finally did look, Yoona suddenly wished she hadn’t. There was fire in her eyes, anger Yoona didn’t know Tiffany was even capable of. Tiffany dropped the spoon with a loud clang on the tiled floor and walked towards Yoona until there was only a small gap in between them. Tiffany stretched out her arms on Yoona’s sides, propping herself on the counter.
“Didn’t we promise not to let a boy get in the way of our friendship?” Tiffany says austerely.
“Yeah… friendship…” Yoona replies unsmilingly and feels sweat form in her palms that were still glued to the chair.
“Then what’s your problem?”
Yoona knew that once she opens her mouth in reply, her eyes will burst in tears and she didn’t want to show any more of her weaknesses. She knew Tiffany won over her in whatever battle there is. She just knew, and there was no stopping that. Yoona wanted to scream, to hold Tiffany, to kiss her, to tell her she’s in love with her and that it’s killing her seeing Tiffany with Taecyeon. But she was at the same time scared and a coward whose heart kept beating in tune with the reality that Tiffany might not love her the way she wanted Tiffany to. Her gaze fell on the floor, to the spoon that Tiffany dropped, to whatever was on the ground including her own pride. The awkward silence was eating all that was left worth salvaging.
Luckily it was Tiffany who left the room first. Yoona clutched her shirt, undoing the first two buttons and fanned herself with her clammy hands. She stood up to pick the spoon off the floor and rushed to the sink to splash her face with cold water. When did her face become so hot?
Yoona realized Tiffany hadn’t eaten anything yet as she stared at the untouched bowl of cereals Tiffany left behind and gathered milk to complete the combo. She took out a few cut fruits from the fridge and put them on a tray next to the bowl. The other members would be home soon. Hopefully by then she and Tiffany had already made up.
She put down the tray on the floor and pressed her ears on Tiffany’s door. She was speaking, probably talking to someone on the phone, probably Taecyeon. Yoona flinched at the name and hurriedly ran to her room after knocking a few times. Tiffany will find Yoona’s apology by the door, while she was yet to receive Tiffany’s.
Hopefully Yoona wouldn’t need to wait that long.
|Posted 2 years ago||17 notes|
Yoona sighed in relief at the thought of coming home. Her feet have been killing her all night and the dress felt too uncomfortably tight around her petite frame. It wasn’t physical exhaustion. Her body had long adjusted to endure those. She disliked the idea of putting a term to it, but if she were to put a name to the feeling, it would most probably be “burn out”. Even though the girls weren’t active on broadcasts yet, shooting CFs here and there were eating up most of their schedules, add to that the dance practices for their upcoming concert overseas, various photo shoots, random variety show appearances, event performances, and for an elite group like Girls’ Generation the list just doesn’t stop . Just the thought of the impending pile of work ahead of them already irked her, mostly because time spent on those would’ve been more meaningfully spent on other things. They were given a few days off, but it was just long enough to spend with her family, and she has been dying to take Yuri out on a date, a real date, one that didn’t transpire within the four walls of their bedroom (although that idea was entirely enticing too). They were roommates but it frustrated her why they haven’t even slept next to each other after coming home from Bangkok. Plus the fact that Yuri has been constantly working out and that also consumes the time they should be spending with each other.
Yoona took out her phone when it began vibrating on their way out to the parking lot. Save the face she had to project to the press, it was the first time today that she actually, genuinely smiled when Kwon Yuri’s name appeared on her caller ID.
“Well that dress looks really good on you.” Yuri spoke.
“Where are you?” Yoona tried to keep her smile to herself as she watched Seohyun and Hyoyeon board the van, hoping to see Yuri when she gets on too, but Hyoyeon shuts the door in her face. She backs down in shock and the van drives away. “What the hell?!” She curses under her breath and suppressed the urge to call after them just as another vehicle, a black SUV, pulls up in front of her. The heavily tinted windows roll down and she sees the one person she’d been longing for all this time. Yuri smiles at her and everything else is forgotten.
“I’d open this door for you, but I didn’t want to risk it.” Yuri says and points to the front most part of the parking lot where fans were camped out, obviously waiting to capture moments like this, perhaps a scandal too.
“Don’t they know already?” Yoona mocks and jumps in the back seat instead. Yuri stared at her from the rear view mirror.
“What are you doing there?” She asks. Yoona doesn’t respond and pulls Yuri by the collar and kisses her on the lips, more fervently than ever, and pushes Yuri back after a few seconds because if she did not she might not be able to stop herself.
“I don’t want to risk getting caught either.” Yoona said finally and carefully (she didn’t want to ruin her dress) climbed into the passenger seat after putting her heels away.
Yuri revved the engine and took off, wary of the fans that might recognize her so she put more effort on her disguise: a hoodie and a pair of raybans. Yoona pretended to look down as they passed the crowd and breathed in respite once they were already on the open road.
“Where are we going?” She asked and took away Yuri’s sunglasses for her, fixing Yuri’s hair when it got caught on the temple.
“I’m taking you hostage. We’re running away and never coming back.” Yuri replied gravely. She’s a really bad liar though. Yoona only smirked at her reply.
“You don’t have the guts.”
“Well, at least for a day, I do.”
An hour later, Yoona stirs from her nap at the sudden halt. Yuri just took out the key from the ignition and leaned over to kiss her cheeks.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here.” Yuri says sweetly and Yoona digs her face on Yuri’s neck, delicately planting a kiss somewhere between the neck and the ears.
“Where is here?” Yoona asks drowsily and spins her head to look around the area. She only saw a small, wooden cottage surrounded by a few pine trees. Yuri flung a sweater around Yoona’s shoulders who looked uncomfortable in her dress. Yuri felt bad and began fidgeting with the zipper on the front of Yoona’s outfit.
“You wanna get out of this dress?” She asks candidly but the question came out with all the wrong impression. Yoona beamed widely and slightly pulled down the zipper on Yuri’s jacket.
“Do you?” She teased and bit at Yuri’s ear but instantly pulled away and got out of the car. The cold, fresh air filled her lungs and the contentment was almost palpable. Wherever they were, the air definitely felt different from the air in Seoul.
“Where are we?” She asked again and followed Yuri’s steps towards the house. They stopped at the threshold while Yuri unlocked the door and switched the lights on from the small fixture on the wall (like a central command machine that automated every switch in the house). From outside it didn’t look as spacious but the interior surprised Yoona. It looked like an expensive country-side rest house with premium furnishings and an exquisite fireplace. Yoona looked utterly impressed.
“This, my love, is our secret place. I bought it a year ago. I was supposed to bring you here on your birthday, but I can’t wait any longer.” Yuri said excitedly and stretched out her arms in welcome. Yoona’s mouth gaped at the sudden revelation.
“This… is beautiful…” She throws herself into Yuri’s arms and kisses her again on the lips. “Thank you.” Yoona whispers in between kisses.
“I love you.”
Yuri pulls away and looks at Yoona straight in the eyes. They were almost red and soggy. Yuri used the back of her hand to wipe the tears. “I love you.” She says again and cups Yoona’s face, wiping the tracks the tears had made on her face with her thumb.
“I think I just fell in love with you again.” Yoona replies and tightens her grip around Yuri’s waist. They remain silent for a few seconds, taking in the serenity of the moment, because they knew once they drive back, they might not be able to have this moment again.
At least for one day, for the entire twenty-four hours, they’re free to forget caring about the rest of the world and just be lost in their own. They can pretend to run away and never come back as much as they want to. Right now, all they have is each other, and nothing else matters.
“You sure you don’t want to get out of this dress?” Yuri pulls away and tugs on the front zipper of Yoona’s dress, pulling it down a few centimetres. “Let me show you our bedroom.”
And so their twenty four hours begins.
|Posted 2 years ago||47 notes|
When you open your eyes from a nap (which lasted for more than you intended) you immediately realize she isn’t in your bed yet and the instinctive reaction is anxiety, but then she specifically told you not to wait up for her, except that the thought of Yuri attending an after-party without you kept jostling your thoughts to unnecessary jealousy. You can’t help it. It’s still a party and there will be lots of elbows rubbing against each other, with which you irksomely remember Nichkhun’s scene with Yuri on that one CF…
Although you trust the girl with all your life, it’s him you have no confidence in whatsoever, so you restlessly begin scrambling to your feet, cursing under your breath, pacing across the room for your mobile and reluctantly began tapping on the small screen for Sooyoung’s number.
“Sooyoung unnie, is Tiffany unnie already with you?” You try your best to hide the anxiety in your voice, but you hear her scoff in reply (as if you aren’t annoyed enough).
“Ya, Yoona, if you want to report a missing person, call the Thai police”, she says, “Or maybe the Thai Prince can help you out.” She laughs and you feel your face burn furiously. You don’t even thank her and you vehemently hung up, regretting even calling her in the first place. You stare at your phone, pressing a random key when the light went out, and contemplated on just getting over this self-inflicted exasperation and just call her and ask her when she’s coming back. That choice seemed easier – way easier than impatiently waiting in a hotel room overlooking the beautiful city of Bangkok – but you don’t want to be the paranoid girlfriend (as if you aren’t one already). You petulantly rapped on your phone and resisted the itch in your fingers to dial Yuri’s number altogether when a knock came to your door. You thought it was Sooyoung with her in-your-face bantering so you sluggishly made your way to the door – and just so you’d at least irritate her, you ask who it is.
Yuri’s voice on the other side of the door surprised you, made you excited, lulled you, confused you, and among all those feelings it was relief that stood out the most, so you eagerly open the door to let her in. “Come here…” You say softly (but with enough force), and when she does you wrap her in your arms as if she’s been away forever. You don’t care being the paranoid girlfriend anymore, so long as you are her girlfriend.
“I told you not to miss me too much.” She jokes and you playfully hit the part of her back where your fingers clasped a handful of her dress.
“I can’t help it.” You mumble and she scoops your thighs and carries you like a child towards the soft bed where she settles you before unclipping her dress, revealing enough to excite your senses, so you stare at her like a child staring at a toy store. You don’t realize your lungs had unhinged your breathing pattern to fit your frantic chest, your pulse off tempo, but you still gape at her in amazement. You’ll worry about breathing later.
When she flings a robe around her, your brows furrow in confusion. One second she’s undressing in front of you, the next she’s pacing towards the bathroom, but she stops just before she goes in and turns to look at you.
“I’m taking a shower. I’m not locking the door.” She winks, and you finally understand what half of the male population in Korea is feeling whenever she does that on national TV. And in your head you mock each and every one of them. They only get to see her, read about her, but you… Oh you…
You’re the only one who gets to touch her.
I’d like to say that you’re my only fear
And when I dream it slowly disappears
And when I wake I’m right here by your side
To feel your heart beat in and out of time
|Posted 2 years ago||5 notes|
You figured the recent earthquakes were a fitting alibi, so you told her you’d both be leaving the country when morning breaks. She stares back at you with a steady expression, and she doesn’t speak so you catch the silence and it involuntarily seals your lips shut.
“There’s no point in staying here.” You force the words out resolutely and she sees an opportunity to rebut your statement.
“Our lives are here. Does that not matter to you?” She says tersely and turns her back at you.
“But the earthquakes…” You try to reason but your weak conviction swayed your logic almost instantly. She snorts, as if earthquakes are a laughing matter.
“Right, the earthquakes… as if you aren’t used to it yet. This is Japan, Taeyeon.”
You watch her saunter around the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards but not really taking anything out, or putting things in. You understand her predicament at once, her sudden urge to keep moving. You are well aware of her nervous habits, so you walk towards her and when you wrapped your arms around her from behind she remains still. You feel her weight lean against yours and you see this as a chance to persuade her.
You aren’t taking no for an answer.
“Fine, it’s not the earthquake.” You say and you hear her laugh and imagine the triumphant smirk appearing on her face. She doesn’t say anything and you know she’s listening so you take advantage.
“We can start over. We can leave this place and start over new. We can go to California.”
At this she lights up and faces you, viciously pulling you closer and kissing you full on the lips as if you told her she just won the lottery. You’ll figure out where to get the cash, how to sell your flat in such short notice, and how tell your boss she can kiss your ass. You see the smile, her glorious smile, and suddenly all is well.
“California?” She asks you eagerly as if she didn’t hear you the first time and you nod without taking your eyes off her. She jumps up and down and kisses you all over until your ears turn red and soon the redness had spread all over your face. When she quiets down, you reach to your back pocket and take out a ring. You get on your knees and ask her to marry you.
You wouldn’t take no for an answer, and so she gets on her knees too, lets you put the ring on her finger, and suddenly all you can think of are reasons why you’re in love with her, and why you will never get tired of it.
The earth shook furiously from underneath you, the wrong kind of tremor pervading the cemented ground which you now agonizingly crawl upon. You scuttle towards a nearest shelter, a barricade, but a sudden scruple plagues your disquieted thoughts. It might not be strong enough to buffer the looming destruction, but you take cover nonetheless, and you take her hand in yours, you sweep your arms all around her, wanting to cover every inch of her with every part of you just so you know she’d be safe, but a struggling tug on your own body (and the fact that she’s taller than you) is proving it a formidable task. She says she doesn’t need protection, but you disregard her screams and muffle them with a kiss, and you know the dampness in her cheeks aren’t caused by the rain because they were salty and warm and it reached your chest first before it even trickled down her face.
You cup her face and you see the impending fear in her eyes. You gather courage and you stare at her with it, unfaltering, staunch, and you ignore the tumultuous chaos around you. You cover her ears with your hands egging her to muster up the courage, and she understands you, and she nods, and she smiles, her glorious smile, and even with tears in her eyes she still looks divine.
You remember the reasons why you’re in love with her, and how you’ll never get tired of it, and you bottle the thoughts in your head. This may well be the end, but as long as you can still feel her hands in yours, the cold metal chafing against your skin, you’ll know all is still well.
|Posted 2 years ago||7 notes|
You had the biggest smile on your face the first time you went here and if it weren’t for Tiffany you wouldn’t even think of doing it. But you promised her you’d visit today, so you did, and you knelt down before the altar and whispered your prayer. You didn’t know where to begin, as it was your first time, so you thought getting straight to the point would be most fitting.
“Please don’t take her back.”
You bite hard on your lip and kept repeating those five words as if saying a mantra, as if stopping would make it any less of a prayer. It’s your first time to actually pray, so you at least should be given some slack, right?
You’ve been here once before. Save the new pews in front and a few more paintings of saints you don’t really know the names of, the chapel looks exactly how you remember it: serene, consoling, but perhaps a little too welcoming that guilt begins rising to your chest. You disregard the knot in your throat and make your way to the back row, taking the seat at the far end where you’re sure the darkness shrouds enough space. Religion had never been your cup of coffee, but then when you’ve got nothing else to fight for but faith, sometimes you have to swallow hard on your pride like the most bitter of pills and get on your knees. You’ve found a sudden shelter in prayers, some you even make up yourself because you can never remember the real ones, and praying is the only thing that’s keeping you sane, so you swallow hard on your beliefs and you can only hope your knees are sturdy enough.
“I won’t ask you to tell me what to do.” You begin. It isn’t exactly how prayers start, but you’ve never been one for conventions anyway.
You choke at the words in your head and feel a tear slide down your cheek.
“Help me forget her.”
You’ve been here once before, exactly once, when you could still count the pews with your fingers and name a few of those saints on the wall, but right now, all you have left are memories and your tarnished faith, all of which you’d gladly trade for just one more day with her.
|Posted 2 years ago||6 notes|
That’s all you are to her, “but it’s better than nothing”, you always say so you shove contentment down your throat in place of a proper consolation. She wouldn’t even want to be seen with you or even be associated with you, so you try your best to keep your hands to yourself when a part of her, it doesn’t matter which part, brushes against you when she passes by you on your way to the cafeteria, or when she sends covert glances during physics class, making your insides churn to her enjoyment. She likes to toy with you, to wrap her delicate fingers around your neck. She likes torturing you, but you’re in love with her so that makes up for your pride completely dissipating into thin air.
You get your revenge when she storms in your room at three in the morning, obviously begging for the pleasure you both know only you can give her, so when you work your way inside her you do it slowly, laboriously, and she likes the masochism (and the fact that your parents are just a wall away) so it gives her more gratification, but for you it really was just so she’d stay longer. Instructions were never necessary when you’re having sex. She lets you in control and you map along the contours of her body, the most intricate of details, like they were yours, and maybe that’s why she keeps coming back to you. You know what to do with her. At half past three she tersely asks you if you’re in love with her. You notice the moonlight feebly reflecting in her eyes, her neck glistening with sweat, the elusive tone the question came out with… Her nails momentarily stop clawing at your back, and you wish they didn’t because now the only thing keeping you from completely surrendering yourself to her is the awkward silence she’d eventually break, and you know she won’t stop until she gets an answer. “What does it matter to you?” Your words come out softly andyou realize it was as good as the confession you’ve been biting the tip of your tongue for. You wanted to kick yourself in the face, but then again her words always do more damage than that…
“Don’t”, she says, but the mockery you well expected didn’t come out of her lips. You realize she stops halfway the deed and lies on her back, on the left side of your bed, the side you’re most fond of. You try to remain unruffled despite the hubbub in your chest and you surprise yourself by taking her hand in yours. God knows how much courage you had to muster within two seconds to do that. You foresee a skirmish: she, violently shaking her hand free from your grip, you, watching her leave, but she squeezes your hand ever so tightly… and now you’re left with more unmade decisions, and apparently, an answered prayer.
“Don’t.” She says again.
“Too late for that”, you say and force a little laugh because the air passing into your lungs is dry and you need to know you are still capable of breathing.
“It hurts just the same… knowing someone else can hold you the way you let me… knowing I will never have you like he does…” You get lost in your own thoughts and you don’t care anymore about what happens next. Words can go ahead and break whatever’s left to break, and she might as well just stab you to death. At least you can say you died for love.
“It has always been only you.” She whispers, but loud enough to reach your aching heart, as she tugged on your arm and pulled herself closer. She kissed your cheeks and you felt the warmth of her breath against your skin, burning you into submission…
In normal circumstances you wouldn’t believe her but this doesn’t count as normal, so you let her fiddle with your weakness until she falls asleep in your arms and hours later when you wake up with her still in your bed, you’ll know she’s finally yours to take. All of her.
|Posted 2 years ago||10 notes|
i have hopes for TaeNy.
|Posted 2 years ago||69 notes|
You force sleep. You force your head to just stop thinking, at least for a few more hours until you land. That’s six hours of peace and quiet you never get unless you’re actually sleeping (which is such a luxury given your crazy schedules). You will force hunger when the cabin crew asks you, “Beef or chicken”, because themembers had noticed your lack of appetite these days and you’re keen to keeping everything to yourself, like you’ve had for the past five years. You’ve been forcing a lot of things on yourself lately, and the feeling isn’t as foreign as it once was anymore. When you close your eyes, your senses slowly adjusting to the decline of compulsion, your face twitches a little. Your headphones muffle the commotion all around you. There’s no music, but you wear it anyway, grateful that nobody’s paying you attention. Deep inside, though, you think of one person you hope would break this unnecessary silence of yours. If only she’d look to her left, she’d notice you not bobbing your head to the music and would instantly know you’re not listening to anything. Or maybe she’d notice how you’re not constantly changing the song like you always do…
You bite the inside of your lip, forcing yourself not to cry – again. A plane is not the right place to do that, you tell yourself, but the impulse took you by surprise. How could you still be crying? But then you know the answer to that too.
You force sleep, and finally it accepts its demise and gives in. You wake up to a grumbling in your stomach, but you get over it easily. You deduce love isn’t really comparable to hunger.
You’ve been to this place several times in the past. The unfamiliar but friendly faces, the chaos from the fans, the screaming, you’ve been used to all of it. You wonder if you’d get used to the pain too, given the right amount of time to heal. The answer is simple, and you force yourself to like it.
The fact is, you miss her, and you’ve been forcing yourself not to. It’s proper logic not to miss someone you live with, but logic doesn’t tell you enough and you let it screw with your head. You miss being with her, or to better put it so you’d give yourself a little respite, you miss how it used to be between the two of you, and at some point you wonder whatever happened that changed all that. She used to tell you her secrets, her dreams, her sadness, the trivial details that stitched together whatever gap remained between the two of you. You were close and oh how delighted, how blessed you felt knowing you held parts of her memories, some of which you created together…
Like when she kissed you, you remember her chuckling because you weren’t doing it right. So she teaches you, and you looked over the fact that you weren’t her first kiss, or her first love. What’s important was that she was yours and at that moment it felt divine.
She taught you how to fall in love. She taught you how to care for someone deeply. And maybe you should’ve been more grateful than greedy. You’re in love with her, and maybe you shouldn’t have imposed the same feelings on her. She tells you she loves you, and you force yourself to believe her because giving in seemed easier, and you hold on to that lie until the stitches come undone and you feel like you’re strangers again. You have no idea what happened, but it just did. And now everytime you look at her, it hurts you, it pains you terribly, as if her every stare breaks you into pieces and when she’d look away you’d put yourself back together only to be shattered again. But your heart still yearns for her and you force yourself to refuse her attempts at getting near, like when she tugged on your jacket to wake you up, although that doesn’t explain how your seatbelt magically fastened itself around your waist at the right adjustment. Instinctively, you will overlook the simplest details, but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about it, and how she knows too much of you, and how much you’re forcing yourself to forget she does.
But you can’t, because you’re still in love with her and you’d still gladly indulge on the excruciating torture that is her existence and her relevance to yours. How does one begin unloving a person?
You know the answer. It’s simple. They don’t.
A/N: I was supposed to make you guess the pairing, but this much angst is kinda giving it away.
|Posted 2 years ago||14 notes|
You begin to wonder how a year did not make a difference. She’s still the nonchalant child that she was when you first met her, still as easygoing as easygoing gets, still as liberated (although there is a limit to that). And here you are, still heedlessly, insanely, and selfishly in love with her. With much force, you’ve admitted that to yourself that same night she kissed you on the lips for the first time. You had to tell yourself that when you forgave her for forgetting to include you and the others on her acceptance speech. You had to tell yourself that when she broke down, her pieces all yours for the taking, that same night she cried, and almost snatched herself away from the group; the group you spent almost six gruelling years of your life preparing for, your dream that she could’ve shattered as easily had she decided to walk away, in which you would still forgive her nonetheless, and everything else she does wrongly you’d overlook, because you love her. You’ve been telling yourself that for over a year now, and she never asked you about it. She’s never kissed you again, although forgiveness is another thing.
She begged for it every time she pulls away from you. You’d see the regret in her eyes, the needless guilt when she pleaded for you to stop, and you would stop at once because you love her, and that was all enough for you. You had no doubt nothing can ever change that now.
She’d always ask you to hang with her, to stay up all night with her, and your hands would always itch to touch her. Sometimes she’d let you, and she would bury her head in your arms and fall asleep there, and you wouldn’t mind staying up all night anymore, albeit the weariness that overcomes your body from a day’s work, the bruises here and there, the contraction in your chest when you try to hold your breath too much because she might wake up from the racket that is your heartbeat. You wish nights like that did not culminate to another sunrise, to another day fulfilling a dream, to another day of waiting for her to finally love you back, because during nights like those she made you feel like she did, and maybe she really did beneath her adept indifference towards your touch. But you would always refuse to believe that because it only magnified the bitter truth, or the lack thereof.
You begin to wonder what a year has done for the both of you. You acquired numerous awards, had breakfast on foreign lands, slept on luxurious beds fit not for a queen, but kings, and all these still do not give you the gratification you yearned for, except when she would crawl into your bed and fall asleep in your arms. She has always been your consolation, and you wonder how long it would take until you finally… win her over.
|Posted 2 years ago||21 notes|