Title: Occasionally
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 803
Summary: Occasionally I think of you and what we used to be.
A/N: Spur of the moment writing that flew out in one go, no additional comments to make~
- - - - -
Occasionally, in between my footprints in the moist sand, I think of you and of how it was when times were better, when days were less lonely and nights less cold. I remember how we used to be when we curled up together in a bed, on the couch, arms wrapped around body and limbs, limbs wrapped around whatever they could fit around. It was effortless, it was void of all hurt and pain and anything that might make our days less bright. I remember the feeling of belonging I got sometimes when I looked into your eyes and pretended that nothing else existed outside of you and me, outside of us.
Occasionally I think back to those days and the way you smiled at me and told me we would never end. Oh how I believed you, how I listened to your words and believed that yes, we could really win over anything that might stand against us. It wasn’t entirely true, but that’s okay now. I’m no longer bitter, I no longer cry over things that are impossible to change. But the sun disappearing into the water still reminds me of your smile and how it lit up every single one of my days and I hope now that you found as much joy in those particular days as I did. Because it would be a waste if I was the only one to have felt that way. It would be silly to want you back, we are long gone, but the way the sand spills through my toes when I lift my feet reminds me of how we’d end up in the shower after long walks on the beach and all of a sudden the shower seems too big for just me, even though we could barely fit in with the two of us.
Sometimes when I go to bed, I still feel the urge to roll over to the other side so I can put my hand on your chest and cuddle up against your side, but there’s nothing there anymore and that’s okay, it just leaves my heart a little bit lonelier. But that’s alright too, because I have my memories and they are as precious to me as you once were, probably, since they are all I have left of you now. It makes me a little sad thinking about that time but I’m walking on an empty beach with my hand holding on to an umbrella instead of another hand so I think I am permitted to feel a little sad occasionally.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to say but maybe the words that spill out of my mind are things I’ve always wanted to tell you; that I miss you but that’s okay because it meant you were something precious that I would’ve kept if the opportunity had been there to do so. All in all I just hope that you’re doing fine now too and when maybe one day you think back of me, you’ll be smiling just like I am right now and maybe your eyes may feel a little moist but that’s okay, because we walked a long road together and occasionally that path can be remembered and treasured. There’s just no need for us to turn around and run back to it, because walking the same road a second time is always different and somehow disappointing. The first time is always more interesting than all of the others, just like our first kiss was such an adventure while all the ones after that just came naturally. It’s like that with all things in life, isn’t it? The trick is to just find those things that keep making you happy even though they’re no longer your first times.
I admit that it’s lonely to think of you when you’re no longer around, when no one is around to remind me of why it’s not bad now, why it’s at least just as good. I’m glad that I had you for the time I had you just like I’m glad that I now have this beach and the sun and my dog. He’s biting at the sea water trying to catch the foam, a little bit like how I’m grasping at the past trying to catch a glimpse of you in my mind. And perhaps my mind does not remember you as clearly anymore, but that’s okay too, because my heart has every detail graved into its core. That is why I will be able to go home, clean my feet of the sand and go on with life, because I know that whenever I feel like it, occasionally, my heart will willingly provide me with these memories again so that I can smile over our shared days and your silly face.
Showing posts with label original fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label original fiction. Show all posts
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
[FIC] 365 Days
Title: 365 Days
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 998
Summary: There's 365 days in a year but it takes only one to make a difference.
A/N: I don't know what to explain for this one. Started this a long time ago, probably with an idea, but that idea never made it to paper (document). This is the bleak end result of a shadow of that idea. Still, this lies very close to my heart. I don't know why.
- - - - -
“I don’t know why you’re hurting yourself so much over this, Sheila,” my mother tells me. The words sound harsh to my ears, the implied meaning obvious to me. I’m doing something that she doesn’t approve of and she wants me to tell her why. She wants me to give her explanations that will make sense to her but I don’t have any of those. I only have explanations that make sense to me and I’ve learned over the years that those are not sufficient for others.
Everyone always needs reasons they can fit into their view on the world. If something goes against their idea of how things turn then it’s not right. If my reasons don’t cooperate with how they think the human mind works then it’s not a proper reason. No one ever seems to consider that maybe someone else’s mind doesn’t work the same way theirs does.
“It’s not that hard to live, you know. It starts with getting up from that chair, walking out of that door and doing something other than sitting here.” I shake my head, not because I disagree that that’s the start, but because I don’t want to do that. Because I can’t just do that. Because it’s not that easy. “I don’t get it, Sheila, I really don’t. What are you afraid of,” she asks with an exasperated sigh and for a short moment it feels like she does get it.
~*~
“What are you afraid of?” He asked once, trying to get to know me better, trying to figure out what went on in my mind. Back then I said I was afraid of the dark. Now.. Now everything changed.
Now I am afraid of being alone. Not really alone in person, but being lonely. Yet I always am. I crave for someone to hold me. It’s been too long since I’ve been hugged by someone and felt completely safe. There is no one who can make me feel safe. I’ve lost trust in the promises of good and better from others, and I myself stopped making such futile promises long ago. I think too much, doubt too much. I ponder over useless things, yet in the end they all seem so important to me.
I don't know why I care so much. I shut people out because I don't feel like they care. I shut people out because I know they can't help me and I would only be a burden to them. It's better not to let them know. It's better not to give them the burden of my pain.
That’s how I work, how I feel. I make things harder for myself, make things worse than they are because I don’t know anymore what it feels like to be fine, what it feels like to be happy. I let the positive things pass by and turn into memories before I really notice they were positive.
Maybe not everything changed. Maybe I’m still afraid of the dark. Only the dark is now inside of me.
~*~
“It’s been years.” It’s what Matthew usually tells me. He reaches out a hand to me this time as if to help me up when I’m actually already standing. I take the hand, send him a smile, let him know it’s appreciated but never actually respond to those words. We both know it doesn’t matter how many years have passed, nor does it matter how many more will pass, it’ll probably always hurt this much when people touch the subject.
Ever since he died, life doesn’t seem enough anymore to hold my feelings. This world is so small, so insignificant. We are all but little dots on a blank paper. We are all great in our own minds, but we are not great for real. What do we have left when life takes away those things we love most? I feel like I only now understand the real significance of what I’ve lost.
“There’s going to be a lot more years after this,” Matthew adds and I nod at him, a certain understanding settling between us as we start walking home, silence having settled between us for the umpteenth time.
~*~
Only I myself have witnessed the countless tears I cried over losing him. The countless tears I cried over everything. Maybe other people don’t need others to be strong, but I do. I have never been alone. None of us can be truly alone. We all need to have something or someone to keep us going. Something or someone to keep us sane. Some find that strength in themselves. Some don’t. People all have a different way of feeling well. My way is to know someone is there for me.
I need him to keep me sane. I feel like I’m losing myself. Losing myself to the dark in my mind.
~*~
Usually on Sundays I take a bus to the cemetery and sit down on a bench near his grave. I take out my iPod, plug in my earphones and lose myself in the world. I pick Sundays because it’s the only day where no one else seems to go there. It surprises me since Sunday is the only free day I really have in my week. Or maybe people do come but I’m just so lost in thoughts of him that I don’t even notice them.
Exactly one hour after arriving, I always start crying. Exactly ten minutes later, Lisa sits down next to me and wraps me in a hug. It’s a yearlong habit and we’re both already used to it. For some reason she is the only person who manages to make my tears stop and for those few minutes that she holds me on the bench in the cemetery I am convinced that I’m not alone. The feeling disappears again the moment we walk out of the gates again.
~*~
I don’t want to live because it hurts to do so without him.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 998
Summary: There's 365 days in a year but it takes only one to make a difference.
A/N: I don't know what to explain for this one. Started this a long time ago, probably with an idea, but that idea never made it to paper (document). This is the bleak end result of a shadow of that idea. Still, this lies very close to my heart. I don't know why.
- - - - -
“I don’t know why you’re hurting yourself so much over this, Sheila,” my mother tells me. The words sound harsh to my ears, the implied meaning obvious to me. I’m doing something that she doesn’t approve of and she wants me to tell her why. She wants me to give her explanations that will make sense to her but I don’t have any of those. I only have explanations that make sense to me and I’ve learned over the years that those are not sufficient for others.
Everyone always needs reasons they can fit into their view on the world. If something goes against their idea of how things turn then it’s not right. If my reasons don’t cooperate with how they think the human mind works then it’s not a proper reason. No one ever seems to consider that maybe someone else’s mind doesn’t work the same way theirs does.
“It’s not that hard to live, you know. It starts with getting up from that chair, walking out of that door and doing something other than sitting here.” I shake my head, not because I disagree that that’s the start, but because I don’t want to do that. Because I can’t just do that. Because it’s not that easy. “I don’t get it, Sheila, I really don’t. What are you afraid of,” she asks with an exasperated sigh and for a short moment it feels like she does get it.
~*~
“What are you afraid of?” He asked once, trying to get to know me better, trying to figure out what went on in my mind. Back then I said I was afraid of the dark. Now.. Now everything changed.
Now I am afraid of being alone. Not really alone in person, but being lonely. Yet I always am. I crave for someone to hold me. It’s been too long since I’ve been hugged by someone and felt completely safe. There is no one who can make me feel safe. I’ve lost trust in the promises of good and better from others, and I myself stopped making such futile promises long ago. I think too much, doubt too much. I ponder over useless things, yet in the end they all seem so important to me.
I don't know why I care so much. I shut people out because I don't feel like they care. I shut people out because I know they can't help me and I would only be a burden to them. It's better not to let them know. It's better not to give them the burden of my pain.
That’s how I work, how I feel. I make things harder for myself, make things worse than they are because I don’t know anymore what it feels like to be fine, what it feels like to be happy. I let the positive things pass by and turn into memories before I really notice they were positive.
Maybe not everything changed. Maybe I’m still afraid of the dark. Only the dark is now inside of me.
~*~
“It’s been years.” It’s what Matthew usually tells me. He reaches out a hand to me this time as if to help me up when I’m actually already standing. I take the hand, send him a smile, let him know it’s appreciated but never actually respond to those words. We both know it doesn’t matter how many years have passed, nor does it matter how many more will pass, it’ll probably always hurt this much when people touch the subject.
Ever since he died, life doesn’t seem enough anymore to hold my feelings. This world is so small, so insignificant. We are all but little dots on a blank paper. We are all great in our own minds, but we are not great for real. What do we have left when life takes away those things we love most? I feel like I only now understand the real significance of what I’ve lost.
“There’s going to be a lot more years after this,” Matthew adds and I nod at him, a certain understanding settling between us as we start walking home, silence having settled between us for the umpteenth time.
~*~
Only I myself have witnessed the countless tears I cried over losing him. The countless tears I cried over everything. Maybe other people don’t need others to be strong, but I do. I have never been alone. None of us can be truly alone. We all need to have something or someone to keep us going. Something or someone to keep us sane. Some find that strength in themselves. Some don’t. People all have a different way of feeling well. My way is to know someone is there for me.
I need him to keep me sane. I feel like I’m losing myself. Losing myself to the dark in my mind.
~*~
Usually on Sundays I take a bus to the cemetery and sit down on a bench near his grave. I take out my iPod, plug in my earphones and lose myself in the world. I pick Sundays because it’s the only day where no one else seems to go there. It surprises me since Sunday is the only free day I really have in my week. Or maybe people do come but I’m just so lost in thoughts of him that I don’t even notice them.
Exactly one hour after arriving, I always start crying. Exactly ten minutes later, Lisa sits down next to me and wraps me in a hug. It’s a yearlong habit and we’re both already used to it. For some reason she is the only person who manages to make my tears stop and for those few minutes that she holds me on the bench in the cemetery I am convinced that I’m not alone. The feeling disappears again the moment we walk out of the gates again.
~*~
I don’t want to live because it hurts to do so without him.
Sunday, 13 November 2011
[FIC] Airbag
Title: Airbag
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 980
Summary: Driving a taxi on his way to something, he wonders.
A/N: I wrote this for a Tablo fanproject in which I filmed myself typing this out. It's a story based on the lyrics of Tablo's song Airbag obviously and I'm posting it here because I can. ^____^
- - - - -
Seven am, on his way to this or that, he can’t really remember what exactly he has gotten up so early for. In fact, he can’t really be bothered to remember either. Dragging himself out of bed had been the hardest part, but from there on everything happened as if on its own. He just went with the flow, getting himself a bowl of cereal and then leaving the house. He barely managed to remember to change into a set of decent clothes before he could walk out onto the street in his pyjamas.
The first taxi that came by was stopped in order to have a means of transport. Stating the street name he knew by heart because he went there every day, he settled into the back seat, buckling his seatbelt and closing his eyes with a sigh. That’s where he still is now, listening to the sounds of life in the early morning. Opening his eyes after some peaceful moments, he stares out of his window, watching the other cars make their way through the morning traffic.
There isn’t much interesting going on in the mornings, really, yet at the same time that’s when you see the most things happen. The loud honking of a car startles him as if proving his point, the driver trying to warn a biker that crossed without looking. They barely avoid each other, back wheel slipping past front bumper with but a hair’s width. What the driver didn’t see was the cat crossing the road, but no one stops to look at that. It is but a stray animal less in the world.
Soon voices fill the taxi, the radio broadcasts some few guests currently in the studio with the DJ that apparently have a lot to say. He hears but doesn’t listen, the conversation going past him as he stares out of the car window without seeing. At one point the taxi driver starts to laugh and he figures they must have said something funny. He didn’t hear what it was. It doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t have laughed anyway. The voices fade away not long after and music starts to play. Perhaps the radio knows his feelings, because they play a song he used to know all the lyrics to. Not that he cares much anymore now, about anything really.
Going over his plans for the week in his mind, he finds there’s still a lot he needs to do before the weekend will come and save him from the dull, boring working days. He’d plan out his work throughout the week if only he would actually keep to such a planning. But even though there isn’t really time to go out, he still accepts the invites from friends to do so, ignoring the amounts of work he still has. He pretends to have fun, but at some point it all becomes void and useless anyway. It doesn’t matter. It’s something to keep the loneliness at bay with. Or perhaps he just hopes that they all see how lonely he really is when he shows up all by himself.
The taxi driver’s gruff voice pulls him out of his reveries and he looks up only to see the man ending his conversation and putting the phone away with a frown. Perhaps the evening drinking plans got cancelled. His eyes wander on to a picture of what he assumes to be the man’s wife and children and he wonders if maybe this man doesn’t go drinking as he can go home to something like that. He thinks back to his own family; his mother and father who had always loved him unconditionally, being the sole people to do so.
He can’t help but wonder whether life would be better if going back to his house actually meant anything. He wonders if maybe he needs a decent place, something to call home. Or would it be better if there were people waiting for him, smiling up at him as they saw him enter and greeting him with love and warmth? He wonders, but doesn’t know the answer to that and when he turns to look out of the window again, the seemingly sudden downpour surprises him.
They come to a halt in front of a street light and he looks at one of the huge billboards through the puddles rippling and growing on the ground. It has something to do with traffic accidents, one person dying. He remembers the cat that died earlier that morning because of an ignorant driver and feels a sigh leave him before he can stop it. Would he end up like that cat, thrown aside by someone who couldn’t care less about his existence?
Another sigh and he remembers the things he thought he put behind him; the warm touch of a loving hand, the happy smile on a frail face, blazing life in sparkling eyes. The pain clutches at his chest and he turns his face away from the street outside to stare at the back of the driver’s chair but it’s useless anyway. His mind pieces the separate memories together easily and he remembers what used to be the light of his life. He draws the face in the air with his eyes and stares at it until the abrupt halt of the taxi tells him he has arrived at his destination.
Slipping the driver the right amount of bills, he mindlessly thanks the man for the service before getting out. As he steps out of the car, feet dipping into some of the puddles he had been staring at just before, he leaves behind the mental drawing he made in the taxi’s interior, with it also forgetting the rest of the memories that go along with it.
Or at least that’s what he tells himself every single day.
It hasn’t worked yet so far.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 980
Summary: Driving a taxi on his way to something, he wonders.
A/N: I wrote this for a Tablo fanproject in which I filmed myself typing this out. It's a story based on the lyrics of Tablo's song Airbag obviously and I'm posting it here because I can. ^____^
- - - - -
Seven am, on his way to this or that, he can’t really remember what exactly he has gotten up so early for. In fact, he can’t really be bothered to remember either. Dragging himself out of bed had been the hardest part, but from there on everything happened as if on its own. He just went with the flow, getting himself a bowl of cereal and then leaving the house. He barely managed to remember to change into a set of decent clothes before he could walk out onto the street in his pyjamas.
The first taxi that came by was stopped in order to have a means of transport. Stating the street name he knew by heart because he went there every day, he settled into the back seat, buckling his seatbelt and closing his eyes with a sigh. That’s where he still is now, listening to the sounds of life in the early morning. Opening his eyes after some peaceful moments, he stares out of his window, watching the other cars make their way through the morning traffic.
There isn’t much interesting going on in the mornings, really, yet at the same time that’s when you see the most things happen. The loud honking of a car startles him as if proving his point, the driver trying to warn a biker that crossed without looking. They barely avoid each other, back wheel slipping past front bumper with but a hair’s width. What the driver didn’t see was the cat crossing the road, but no one stops to look at that. It is but a stray animal less in the world.
Soon voices fill the taxi, the radio broadcasts some few guests currently in the studio with the DJ that apparently have a lot to say. He hears but doesn’t listen, the conversation going past him as he stares out of the car window without seeing. At one point the taxi driver starts to laugh and he figures they must have said something funny. He didn’t hear what it was. It doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t have laughed anyway. The voices fade away not long after and music starts to play. Perhaps the radio knows his feelings, because they play a song he used to know all the lyrics to. Not that he cares much anymore now, about anything really.
Going over his plans for the week in his mind, he finds there’s still a lot he needs to do before the weekend will come and save him from the dull, boring working days. He’d plan out his work throughout the week if only he would actually keep to such a planning. But even though there isn’t really time to go out, he still accepts the invites from friends to do so, ignoring the amounts of work he still has. He pretends to have fun, but at some point it all becomes void and useless anyway. It doesn’t matter. It’s something to keep the loneliness at bay with. Or perhaps he just hopes that they all see how lonely he really is when he shows up all by himself.
The taxi driver’s gruff voice pulls him out of his reveries and he looks up only to see the man ending his conversation and putting the phone away with a frown. Perhaps the evening drinking plans got cancelled. His eyes wander on to a picture of what he assumes to be the man’s wife and children and he wonders if maybe this man doesn’t go drinking as he can go home to something like that. He thinks back to his own family; his mother and father who had always loved him unconditionally, being the sole people to do so.
He can’t help but wonder whether life would be better if going back to his house actually meant anything. He wonders if maybe he needs a decent place, something to call home. Or would it be better if there were people waiting for him, smiling up at him as they saw him enter and greeting him with love and warmth? He wonders, but doesn’t know the answer to that and when he turns to look out of the window again, the seemingly sudden downpour surprises him.
They come to a halt in front of a street light and he looks at one of the huge billboards through the puddles rippling and growing on the ground. It has something to do with traffic accidents, one person dying. He remembers the cat that died earlier that morning because of an ignorant driver and feels a sigh leave him before he can stop it. Would he end up like that cat, thrown aside by someone who couldn’t care less about his existence?
Another sigh and he remembers the things he thought he put behind him; the warm touch of a loving hand, the happy smile on a frail face, blazing life in sparkling eyes. The pain clutches at his chest and he turns his face away from the street outside to stare at the back of the driver’s chair but it’s useless anyway. His mind pieces the separate memories together easily and he remembers what used to be the light of his life. He draws the face in the air with his eyes and stares at it until the abrupt halt of the taxi tells him he has arrived at his destination.
Slipping the driver the right amount of bills, he mindlessly thanks the man for the service before getting out. As he steps out of the car, feet dipping into some of the puddles he had been staring at just before, he leaves behind the mental drawing he made in the taxi’s interior, with it also forgetting the rest of the memories that go along with it.
Or at least that’s what he tells himself every single day.
It hasn’t worked yet so far.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
[FIC] Innuendos of time
Title: Innuendos of time
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 919
Summary: I guess that was the breaking point. Or maybe we were never whole to begin with.
A/N: At certain occasions I brush through my files and find a file with a name I don't recognise. Very rarely it happens that when I open that file I open up a treasure, and this fic was much like that. Written when I had just come home from my holiday in July, based on personal experience and complete fantasy.
- - - - -
I came home one day to the sound of my world crashing down on me and I remember not having a single clue what was going on. It was then that I started becoming like this – so weak.
High school means a few years of trying to make it to the top of the people at the bottom of society. Some say the beggars and the ones without money are the bottom, but I firmly disagree. After all… What value does a high school student hold? What value do money and prestige have in the corrupt system of the judging high school kids?
It’s amusing sometimes, looking at how ridiculously happy people get when they receive the support and love of their family. How they are all so contented with the emotions of love shared in their family. And here I am having a father who loves me so much he would ruin – already has ruined - himself for his children yet I don’t even know how to look at him.
But there’s not much I can do about it, really. It’s his decision if he wants to pass out several times in a day because he drinks too much. His decision if he wants to forget things I told him five times and complain that he’s getting old, when really all he ever gets is drunk – every single day.
Sometimes you can see the world coming to a halt and you realise just what exactly it is that’s really important to you. That might have been one of those moments for me. I realised I had nothing left.
My family is not close to my heart. My family is some people who happen to live in the same house I do, thereby ruining any homey feeling it might have held for me. My family is tiny pieces of conversation amounting to nothing mixed with disappointment, disapproval and a constantly present one-sided desire to make everything more normal. But we were never normal and we will never be either.
We gave up our chance on normality when we secluded ourselves with our own computers, our own tiny islands of life away from each other. Each for our own personal reasons that made some sort of sense to us at the time. But I guess that was the breaking point. Or maybe we were never whole to begin with.
I came home one day to three words that shook me so thoroughly I have never been able to erase them from my mind after that and I remember crying more than I had in the past. I cried even more in the years that followed.
Growing up is not so much a process as it is a battle. Trying to figure out how to become older while still being young. Teenagers are the most misunderstood and misunderstanding people there are in the world, struggling to get somewhere, be grownup while still locked up in the box labelled ‘youth’.
We all struggle to become something we feel we can be proud of, something others are proud of. But what we really need is to be someone we can be, someone we are, no complications attached. Because there’s no use trying to be something you’re not, in the end you’ll always be yourself once things really start to matter, and if they didn’t know you were like that by then, people will leave. Maybe only a few, maybe a lot, but there will always be people leaving.
Life is treacherous to those who play it fair and kind on those who play foul. There’s no limits to dishonesty, no boundaries to the evil that people tend to commit for ‘the greater good’. And what are we? Mere ants in the vastness of it all. An insignificant bunch of crawling, disgusting things.
Sometimes it takes only one second to realise you love something more than yourself and that you’d do anything to protect it, but usually it’s already too late by then. I came home one day to a declaration that tore my soul apart.
They told me once that maybe I was blaming my father for everything that happened. Up to now I still wonder if I do. I don’t feel like I blame him for the past, I just blame him for being him. Does that make it any less pitiable or wrong? I guess not. It certainly doesn’t ease my will to leave this place forever.
If anything I can say that life is no box of chocolates anymore to me. I know exactly what I’ll get, every single day over and over again, a repetition of a ritual that I have grown out of years ago. I have long grown up. I decided I was an adult long before my body showed signs of that. With a mind that works at lightning speed, but only comes up with the things that hurt most.
The memories run clear when I open the window and the wind blows into my face. It’s a cold reminder of the things I should have done. I’ve always wanted to be someone big and people tell me that I still have a whole life in front of me to become so, but I feel like I should’ve started becoming a few years ago and that it’s way too late for me by now. Yet I still don’t give up on trying, like a brainless fool. Or maybe I’m just bad with endings.
“Your mother died.”
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 919
Summary: I guess that was the breaking point. Or maybe we were never whole to begin with.
A/N: At certain occasions I brush through my files and find a file with a name I don't recognise. Very rarely it happens that when I open that file I open up a treasure, and this fic was much like that. Written when I had just come home from my holiday in July, based on personal experience and complete fantasy.
- - - - -
I came home one day to the sound of my world crashing down on me and I remember not having a single clue what was going on. It was then that I started becoming like this – so weak.
High school means a few years of trying to make it to the top of the people at the bottom of society. Some say the beggars and the ones without money are the bottom, but I firmly disagree. After all… What value does a high school student hold? What value do money and prestige have in the corrupt system of the judging high school kids?
It’s amusing sometimes, looking at how ridiculously happy people get when they receive the support and love of their family. How they are all so contented with the emotions of love shared in their family. And here I am having a father who loves me so much he would ruin – already has ruined - himself for his children yet I don’t even know how to look at him.
But there’s not much I can do about it, really. It’s his decision if he wants to pass out several times in a day because he drinks too much. His decision if he wants to forget things I told him five times and complain that he’s getting old, when really all he ever gets is drunk – every single day.
Sometimes you can see the world coming to a halt and you realise just what exactly it is that’s really important to you. That might have been one of those moments for me. I realised I had nothing left.
My family is not close to my heart. My family is some people who happen to live in the same house I do, thereby ruining any homey feeling it might have held for me. My family is tiny pieces of conversation amounting to nothing mixed with disappointment, disapproval and a constantly present one-sided desire to make everything more normal. But we were never normal and we will never be either.
We gave up our chance on normality when we secluded ourselves with our own computers, our own tiny islands of life away from each other. Each for our own personal reasons that made some sort of sense to us at the time. But I guess that was the breaking point. Or maybe we were never whole to begin with.
I came home one day to three words that shook me so thoroughly I have never been able to erase them from my mind after that and I remember crying more than I had in the past. I cried even more in the years that followed.
Growing up is not so much a process as it is a battle. Trying to figure out how to become older while still being young. Teenagers are the most misunderstood and misunderstanding people there are in the world, struggling to get somewhere, be grownup while still locked up in the box labelled ‘youth’.
We all struggle to become something we feel we can be proud of, something others are proud of. But what we really need is to be someone we can be, someone we are, no complications attached. Because there’s no use trying to be something you’re not, in the end you’ll always be yourself once things really start to matter, and if they didn’t know you were like that by then, people will leave. Maybe only a few, maybe a lot, but there will always be people leaving.
Life is treacherous to those who play it fair and kind on those who play foul. There’s no limits to dishonesty, no boundaries to the evil that people tend to commit for ‘the greater good’. And what are we? Mere ants in the vastness of it all. An insignificant bunch of crawling, disgusting things.
Sometimes it takes only one second to realise you love something more than yourself and that you’d do anything to protect it, but usually it’s already too late by then. I came home one day to a declaration that tore my soul apart.
They told me once that maybe I was blaming my father for everything that happened. Up to now I still wonder if I do. I don’t feel like I blame him for the past, I just blame him for being him. Does that make it any less pitiable or wrong? I guess not. It certainly doesn’t ease my will to leave this place forever.
If anything I can say that life is no box of chocolates anymore to me. I know exactly what I’ll get, every single day over and over again, a repetition of a ritual that I have grown out of years ago. I have long grown up. I decided I was an adult long before my body showed signs of that. With a mind that works at lightning speed, but only comes up with the things that hurt most.
The memories run clear when I open the window and the wind blows into my face. It’s a cold reminder of the things I should have done. I’ve always wanted to be someone big and people tell me that I still have a whole life in front of me to become so, but I feel like I should’ve started becoming a few years ago and that it’s way too late for me by now. Yet I still don’t give up on trying, like a brainless fool. Or maybe I’m just bad with endings.
“Your mother died.”
[FIC] The mirror paints her imperfections
Title: The mirror paints her imperfections
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 783
Summary: Inside of her it's freezing and shivers and icicles fallen from the tips of leaves.
A/N: Written after reading a fic that had totally no relation to this topic whatsoever. I just felt like writing something new, a subject I haven't tackled yet before. I don't know if this is rash or confronting, but well, a view on eating disorders?
- - - - -
Inside of her it’s cold. Everything is freezing and shivers and icicles fallen from the tips of leaves, piercing through her heart and tearing at her insides. She vaguely remembers what it was like to feel warm, but she can only grab at that feeling, brushing her fingertips over the gentle heat, in a faded memory of what once was everything to her.
( “Goddammit! I’ve had enough! I can’t take this anymore, seeing you exert yourself so much day after day. You’re perfect enough, so stop trying to become better!”
She wants to say she knows, that of course she’s not perfect, she’s trying to be perfect for him, because he takes her as she is, all of her imperfections bundled together, and he deserves so much more, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as he pulls his arm out of her grip and walks away. )
The sun shines peacefully, warming her skin as she sits on the cement balustrade of her balcony, staring at the cars that pass by more than occasionally. A shiver wrecks through her body, goosebumps carving relief into her skin as she tenses her muscles for a moment before relaxing again. She closes her eyes and blocks out the countless cars that keep rushing past. The sun moves to a higher point in the sky, shining brighter and warmer, but she doesn’t feel it, it doesn’t melt the ice just beneath her skin.
( “Why do you do this to yourself?”
The voice whispering those words sounds broken and she wants to cradle that face in her hands and ask what he means, because she’s not doing anything to anyone. But before the words can leave her mouth her eyes find his and he looks so incredibly sad that she doesn’t think she can lie to him like that.
“Please promise me you’ll stop.”
She smiles and nods, leaning into his touch and smothering her promise against his lips, knowing full well she won’t, can’t promise him something like that. )
It’s nice to be outside. It’s been a long time since that happened last, these people trying to keep her inside when she actually wants to be outside and enjoy the nice summer weather. But lately nothing seems to satisfy her anymore, not even the brightly shining sun that draws prettily shaped patterns on the ground.
( “Look at yourself! Don’t you see?”
She nods because she does. She sees curves where things should be flat, flatness where there should be curves. She sees inaccuracies and the way she comes up short for what she wants to be. The mirror paints her imperfections. It makes her want to turn away, but his hands keep her in place and she smiles at his reflection in the mirror, grateful that he helps her see what’s wrong, that he helps her become a better person. )
The last time she ate a grotesque meal like the ones you get in a restaurant probably is several weeks ago by now and it makes her feel proud of herself. She counts the calories she puts in her body like she counts sheep before sleeping, quick, effective, pragmatic and every day doing it over and over again. It gives her a sense of control, the way she can decide exactly how much she allows her body to have and it brushes away her insecurity like magic.
( “Do you know what you’re doing? One day this will kill you!”
She laughs at his silliness, at the way he still tries to toy with her, still tries to test her resolution by making it seem like she’s doing something bad.
“Silly.” she says with a chuckle, running her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss on his lips. “I know perfectly well what I’m doing. I’m not letting it kill me.” )
Her body trembles violently by now and she faintly wonders why it’s so cold, why no one else notices how the sun is not giving the same warmth as it used to anymore. She feels how her muscles tense up and relax at random, as if receiving small electric shocks at short intervals. It makes no sense to her that she can’t seem to control her limbs anymore as she topples over, falling to the balcony floor one metre below.
( “You look wonderful today.”
She forces a smile, takes the compliment even though she knows it’s a lie - something to make her feel better. He wraps his arms around her and it irks her how long his arms need to be to fit around her middle. She decides she has to change this. )
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 783
Summary: Inside of her it's freezing and shivers and icicles fallen from the tips of leaves.
A/N: Written after reading a fic that had totally no relation to this topic whatsoever. I just felt like writing something new, a subject I haven't tackled yet before. I don't know if this is rash or confronting, but well, a view on eating disorders?
- - - - -
Inside of her it’s cold. Everything is freezing and shivers and icicles fallen from the tips of leaves, piercing through her heart and tearing at her insides. She vaguely remembers what it was like to feel warm, but she can only grab at that feeling, brushing her fingertips over the gentle heat, in a faded memory of what once was everything to her.
( “Goddammit! I’ve had enough! I can’t take this anymore, seeing you exert yourself so much day after day. You’re perfect enough, so stop trying to become better!”
She wants to say she knows, that of course she’s not perfect, she’s trying to be perfect for him, because he takes her as she is, all of her imperfections bundled together, and he deserves so much more, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as he pulls his arm out of her grip and walks away. )
The sun shines peacefully, warming her skin as she sits on the cement balustrade of her balcony, staring at the cars that pass by more than occasionally. A shiver wrecks through her body, goosebumps carving relief into her skin as she tenses her muscles for a moment before relaxing again. She closes her eyes and blocks out the countless cars that keep rushing past. The sun moves to a higher point in the sky, shining brighter and warmer, but she doesn’t feel it, it doesn’t melt the ice just beneath her skin.
( “Why do you do this to yourself?”
The voice whispering those words sounds broken and she wants to cradle that face in her hands and ask what he means, because she’s not doing anything to anyone. But before the words can leave her mouth her eyes find his and he looks so incredibly sad that she doesn’t think she can lie to him like that.
“Please promise me you’ll stop.”
She smiles and nods, leaning into his touch and smothering her promise against his lips, knowing full well she won’t, can’t promise him something like that. )
It’s nice to be outside. It’s been a long time since that happened last, these people trying to keep her inside when she actually wants to be outside and enjoy the nice summer weather. But lately nothing seems to satisfy her anymore, not even the brightly shining sun that draws prettily shaped patterns on the ground.
( “Look at yourself! Don’t you see?”
She nods because she does. She sees curves where things should be flat, flatness where there should be curves. She sees inaccuracies and the way she comes up short for what she wants to be. The mirror paints her imperfections. It makes her want to turn away, but his hands keep her in place and she smiles at his reflection in the mirror, grateful that he helps her see what’s wrong, that he helps her become a better person. )
The last time she ate a grotesque meal like the ones you get in a restaurant probably is several weeks ago by now and it makes her feel proud of herself. She counts the calories she puts in her body like she counts sheep before sleeping, quick, effective, pragmatic and every day doing it over and over again. It gives her a sense of control, the way she can decide exactly how much she allows her body to have and it brushes away her insecurity like magic.
( “Do you know what you’re doing? One day this will kill you!”
She laughs at his silliness, at the way he still tries to toy with her, still tries to test her resolution by making it seem like she’s doing something bad.
“Silly.” she says with a chuckle, running her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss on his lips. “I know perfectly well what I’m doing. I’m not letting it kill me.” )
Her body trembles violently by now and she faintly wonders why it’s so cold, why no one else notices how the sun is not giving the same warmth as it used to anymore. She feels how her muscles tense up and relax at random, as if receiving small electric shocks at short intervals. It makes no sense to her that she can’t seem to control her limbs anymore as she topples over, falling to the balcony floor one metre below.
( “You look wonderful today.”
She forces a smile, takes the compliment even though she knows it’s a lie - something to make her feel better. He wraps his arms around her and it irks her how long his arms need to be to fit around her middle. She decides she has to change this. )
Monday, 29 August 2011
[FIC] Reminiscing
Title: Reminiscing
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.139
Summary: Sometimes in life you know fighting is useless.
A/N: This is a very rare original fiction of mine that talks about one of the more common things in life these days; love gone wrong, marriage turned divorce, children with two homes. It's a piece that I enjoyed writing because it brought a little bit of peace to my mind while I was at it. I'd like to thank the person who read this while I wrote it and kept my fickle writer mind focused. ^.^
- - - - -
I’m not sure how these things start? They grow like weed in your garden. One day you’re innocently trying to find the butter your mother wants you to buy, the next day you’re baking cookies with a stranger. Or an almost stranger.
We met in a bar when I was out with my friends. She had a little too much to drink so I offered her a ride home, but she didn’t even remember her own address anymore so I took her to my place. I figured we still had a spare bed anyway and she wouldn’t mind if she still had her clothes on in the morning. She didn’t mind indeed. But since there was no breakfast, she offered to make cookies.
They were nice. With chocolate chips in them. The first cookies I made that were edible even. It wasn’t too hard to get along with her. In fact, it was really easy. And my mother never asked me about her staying over - as if it was a normal thing for a girl to do.
She was fifteen when we met. I was nineteen. People found that too much of a difference. It also wasn’t legal. We didn’t exactly care. It’s not like I talked her into bed the first night anyway. You know that feeling when you buy something or do something and you just know it’s exactly the thing you need? She was exactly the thing I needed.
Maybe we were young and foolish, I don’t know. She told me her name was Lilly and I wanted immediately to smell her fragrance. But she was a flower that still had to bloom. She didn’t see me like I saw her I guess. Or maybe she did but she never told me. In any way; we never really did much more than baking cookies back in the day. It was all I could do to keep in contact with her.
It was like that moment when the sun goes down and you can see the little shimmers of orange. It was wonderful. And she was there to see it with me. She was sixteen by then, I was nineteen for another month. We kissed, I guess? We made it to the part where you just don’t care about the outside world anymore. It was nice to hide in the things we both loved; music, dancing, baking chocolate chip cookies.
Maybe it was the way she smiled at me, or the way she messed up the chocolate every time we made cookies. I don’t know, but I fell. Her mother told me once that if I was going to take her, I’d better also care for her. So I did. I loved Lilly like a man loves the only woman in his life. From back then all the way up till we moved in together and even when we fought, got engaged, separated and married.
We understood each other, the two of us. She needed time to do her thing, I needed time to do my thing, so we did those things when the other had no time either, that way we could spend the time we did have together. It worked, we worked, she was awesome.
You can’t learn about love from the movies and books, you know, you can only feel it. The things they tell you … it goes way deeper than that and you often realise still even long after it’s gone. Even years later you’ll think back and say to yourself: ‘Dang, I loved that person.’ Because you did. And you do. The human mind works like that.
There was silence then, the man staring down at the floor tiles, lost in thoughts, the interviewer stopping his scribbling to look up and ask another question.
“So you don’t love her anymore now?”
The look he got for that was fierce, not exactly angry but more disappointed. As if the man was trying to tell him ‘isn’t it obvious?’ with just his eyes. And he got the message, looking down at his notes again to scribble something more.
“Then what happened?”
We grew up, we grew old, we got kids, they grew up. You know how life generally goes. We had a general life, with the general house, pet, garden, tree, kid kind of scenario. It worked for us. If you add in the chocolate chip cookies, of course.
But life is life and soon something felt off. When our son was about eight, our daughter eleven, she came to me saying it had become boring, normal. I didn’t know what to do or say to that, because in some way it was true. We didn’t really talk it out, I guess that’s what the problem was.
We fought more often from then on, over the smallest of things. Everything that had been solved with a smile and a shrug before now became something to fight over - whenever the kids weren’t listening in. It soon became obvious that we couldn’t live like that so we told the kids and I moved away not too long after.
The kids visit me once every week now, sometimes during the week days, sometimes during the weekend. Sometimes randomly. We’re not too far apart, just far enough to not get into arguments every minute anymore. I guess we managed to work it out nicely if you hear some of the stories that go around about divorces.
I still love her, I think that’s what matters most. Lilly will always be the fragrance of my life. I didn’t manage to live with her anymore, but we never really managed to live without each other either. Every time I pass by her house to pick up or drop off the kids, I still see the bits and pieces of me that linger there and I’m sure there’s bits and pieces of her in my house as well. A CD here, a little note there.
It’s not because we separated that we have to hate each other. It’s not because you’re over that the love is gone. I often think back to those early days and then I go ‘Dang I loved that woman.’ But even though I still do, I know it’s better this way. Fairytales don’t work in the real world, you know?
The man smiles a sad smile and the interviewer slowly covers his notes. There’s nothing more to say now. It’s not the end of the story, but what else is there to write about? They shake hands, the man gets up from his chair and walks over to the mirror to check his outfit, the interviewer leaves the dressing room.
Back to life. Back to work. Feelings tucked away in a corner to never be felt again, until the next time of reminiscing.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.139
Summary: Sometimes in life you know fighting is useless.
A/N: This is a very rare original fiction of mine that talks about one of the more common things in life these days; love gone wrong, marriage turned divorce, children with two homes. It's a piece that I enjoyed writing because it brought a little bit of peace to my mind while I was at it. I'd like to thank the person who read this while I wrote it and kept my fickle writer mind focused. ^.^
- - - - -
I’m not sure how these things start? They grow like weed in your garden. One day you’re innocently trying to find the butter your mother wants you to buy, the next day you’re baking cookies with a stranger. Or an almost stranger.
We met in a bar when I was out with my friends. She had a little too much to drink so I offered her a ride home, but she didn’t even remember her own address anymore so I took her to my place. I figured we still had a spare bed anyway and she wouldn’t mind if she still had her clothes on in the morning. She didn’t mind indeed. But since there was no breakfast, she offered to make cookies.
They were nice. With chocolate chips in them. The first cookies I made that were edible even. It wasn’t too hard to get along with her. In fact, it was really easy. And my mother never asked me about her staying over - as if it was a normal thing for a girl to do.
She was fifteen when we met. I was nineteen. People found that too much of a difference. It also wasn’t legal. We didn’t exactly care. It’s not like I talked her into bed the first night anyway. You know that feeling when you buy something or do something and you just know it’s exactly the thing you need? She was exactly the thing I needed.
Maybe we were young and foolish, I don’t know. She told me her name was Lilly and I wanted immediately to smell her fragrance. But she was a flower that still had to bloom. She didn’t see me like I saw her I guess. Or maybe she did but she never told me. In any way; we never really did much more than baking cookies back in the day. It was all I could do to keep in contact with her.
It was like that moment when the sun goes down and you can see the little shimmers of orange. It was wonderful. And she was there to see it with me. She was sixteen by then, I was nineteen for another month. We kissed, I guess? We made it to the part where you just don’t care about the outside world anymore. It was nice to hide in the things we both loved; music, dancing, baking chocolate chip cookies.
Maybe it was the way she smiled at me, or the way she messed up the chocolate every time we made cookies. I don’t know, but I fell. Her mother told me once that if I was going to take her, I’d better also care for her. So I did. I loved Lilly like a man loves the only woman in his life. From back then all the way up till we moved in together and even when we fought, got engaged, separated and married.
We understood each other, the two of us. She needed time to do her thing, I needed time to do my thing, so we did those things when the other had no time either, that way we could spend the time we did have together. It worked, we worked, she was awesome.
You can’t learn about love from the movies and books, you know, you can only feel it. The things they tell you … it goes way deeper than that and you often realise still even long after it’s gone. Even years later you’ll think back and say to yourself: ‘Dang, I loved that person.’ Because you did. And you do. The human mind works like that.
There was silence then, the man staring down at the floor tiles, lost in thoughts, the interviewer stopping his scribbling to look up and ask another question.
“So you don’t love her anymore now?”
The look he got for that was fierce, not exactly angry but more disappointed. As if the man was trying to tell him ‘isn’t it obvious?’ with just his eyes. And he got the message, looking down at his notes again to scribble something more.
“Then what happened?”
We grew up, we grew old, we got kids, they grew up. You know how life generally goes. We had a general life, with the general house, pet, garden, tree, kid kind of scenario. It worked for us. If you add in the chocolate chip cookies, of course.
But life is life and soon something felt off. When our son was about eight, our daughter eleven, she came to me saying it had become boring, normal. I didn’t know what to do or say to that, because in some way it was true. We didn’t really talk it out, I guess that’s what the problem was.
We fought more often from then on, over the smallest of things. Everything that had been solved with a smile and a shrug before now became something to fight over - whenever the kids weren’t listening in. It soon became obvious that we couldn’t live like that so we told the kids and I moved away not too long after.
The kids visit me once every week now, sometimes during the week days, sometimes during the weekend. Sometimes randomly. We’re not too far apart, just far enough to not get into arguments every minute anymore. I guess we managed to work it out nicely if you hear some of the stories that go around about divorces.
I still love her, I think that’s what matters most. Lilly will always be the fragrance of my life. I didn’t manage to live with her anymore, but we never really managed to live without each other either. Every time I pass by her house to pick up or drop off the kids, I still see the bits and pieces of me that linger there and I’m sure there’s bits and pieces of her in my house as well. A CD here, a little note there.
It’s not because we separated that we have to hate each other. It’s not because you’re over that the love is gone. I often think back to those early days and then I go ‘Dang I loved that woman.’ But even though I still do, I know it’s better this way. Fairytales don’t work in the real world, you know?
The man smiles a sad smile and the interviewer slowly covers his notes. There’s nothing more to say now. It’s not the end of the story, but what else is there to write about? They shake hands, the man gets up from his chair and walks over to the mirror to check his outfit, the interviewer leaves the dressing room.
Back to life. Back to work. Feelings tucked away in a corner to never be felt again, until the next time of reminiscing.
[FIC] The things..
Title: The things...
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 2.128 & 2.544 & 464
Summary: There are so many things to regret.
A/N: The very general idea of this fic came to mind as I reread one of my stories and saw a line that captivated me. It got stuck in my head from that day on, but I didn't do much with it. Then yesterday I was reading someone else's fanfictions, had an incredible weird moment of emotional-ness and then I felt the urge to write something myself.. It actually turned out much happier than I had in mind when I started, but less happy than I wanted it to be by the time I finished. So yah.. It's somewhere in-between-ish.. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot but then people complained so I wrote another shot and an epilogue. OTL
- - - - -
The things..
..he never knew
It started when they were young. Being the children of two best friends, they saw each other almost every day. It was only natural for them to grow up to be best friends as well. From the moment they entered kindergarten, every single day was spent together. When either of them was lost, all one had to do was ask the other, for they always flawlessly knew where to find each other.
Being together at all times brought fights along as well. A lot of them even. They would bicker about everything. From Barbie being prettier than Ken or not, to who was allowed to get a cookie first. Every decision made was preceded by a giant discussion that could sometimes even reach to the extent of pulling each other’s hair or yelling so loud that even teachers from other classes would worry about them.
He would always win the fights. Of course. All it took was a cute pout and anyone involved would be on his side, scolding her for being so mean to him. If it was one of their mothers, they would take him to the tea table and treat him like the most precious thing on earth. At such times, he would always send her a self-assured smile, before turning away from her.
She made ugly faces at him that he never noticed.
As they grew up and moved on to primary school, their fights lessened, even though they still stuck together like glue. They were still the best of friends, even though they made other friends in school. Still, every important moment was shared by only them. She was there to celebrate with him when he got his first pet and he was there to cry with her when they flushed her dead goldfish through the toilet.
They were their class’ best students, getting top marks at every test and beating the average level with ease. Yet when other people came by, they would never find them doing homework. The two of them would always be playing games somewhere in the house or the backyard. Never would one find them trying to stuff the material in their head. Learning, for them, was having fun.
From the moment on that they had been taught how to read, they would read each other the fairytales that their mothers had read to them and he would laugh over how silly they were. She would then get angry at him for laughing at the princes on the white horses whom she loved and admired so much. He would then laugh at her even more and the book reading would become a full scale tickle war. When they were done laughing, he would tell her that princes were ridiculous.
She imagined him to be the prince that he never was.
High school brought with it a lot of surprises. During the first two years they were still in the same class, still getting the best marks out of everyone and beating the average level with ease. But as the third year came, he took up the life of a trainee at a music company. Suddenly she found herself being alone in class more often than not, with the empty chair next to her that screamed his absence. It was weird at first, but she soon got used to it and simply hung out with other people from her class.
They still met up often outside of school, as he lived only a street or two away from her. He would always tell about his life in the company. At first he had only gotten jobs of cleaning the floor, but after a while, he would tell her stories of passing by famous idols and getting to know other trainees. She would always be just as excited about everything as he was himself, and when he would tell her about the pranks they pulled on each other, his mischievous grin and sparkling eyes would always make her able to imagine it perfectly.
Of course the people at school knew about him becoming a trainee with a chance of being famous in the future. As she reached her last year of high school, lots of girls were swooning over him and they would give her letters to give to him, because they knew how close she was with him. She would do as the girls asked and give him tons of letters every Friday evening. At first he would still take the time to read them, but after a while he didn’t bother anymore, telling her that he thought those love letters quite ridiculous.
She wrote letters to him that he never read.
As university started for her, his debut came. They hardly found the time anymore to see each other, but still kept in contact through e-mails and calls. Their friendship did not fade away, nor did it whither. It was safe to say that they were maybe even closer than ever, as he came to her with lots of his hardships that he didn’t want to burden his members with. He told her about them too and about how they were such good friends, but he never failed to reassure her that she was still his best buddy ever.
University for her passed by in a whim. There was a very troubled period during the time of the car accident his band was involved in, but when everything turned out to be alright, her life became better again as well. She would pass her exams with ease and skip from year to year as he skipped from album to album. She would tell him stories about her life in university and he would tell her how much he envied her sometimes for having such a normal life.
Every time a new album of his came out, she would be one of the first to buy it, often having pre-ordered it already long before. He would always send her a version signed by all the members, but she would still buy one herself anyway, to support him. She would be there at every concert close by, to cheer him on even though he didn’t see her in between the other fans. They would always be on the phone after a concert and he would tell her about the amazing feeling it was and how he wished she could be there with him.
She encouraged him with cheers that he never heard.
About five years after his debut, she finished university, leaving it as a newbie doctor with a fancy diploma. She moved to the big city and took up a job in one of the hospitals there, soon getting a reputation as a good doctor and often being called for emergencies. At the same time, there were some troubles in his band and it came to a point where the members had to enlist for their army service. So they did and he went.
She didn’t hear from him a lot in those two years.. The occasional letter that would end up on her doormat and the even more rare e-mail every now and then with updates about life in the army were the only things she got from him. Yet the absence only made the friendship stronger. The day he came back from the army, would also be the day he visited her new house, taking her out for dinner and sleeping over in her guest room. That same night she was called out for another emergency, leaving him to wake up all by himself the next morning.
Life took a turn for the better after that. He would call her often again as he resumed his idol activities, visiting many TV programs and variety shows. When the remaining twelve members of his band came out with a new album six months after the last one came back from military service, it was only normal for her to be the first to pre-order a copy. At times when he came to visit her, he would often hug her and tell her he was glad that he had a friend like her and that he wished she would have a wonderful life.
She faked smiles for him that he never saw through.
From then on life seemed to go in overdrive. Months passed like raindrops in a downpour and nothing much special happened. His band stayed active for another decent amount of years, making him mid-thirty by the time they decided to each go their own way, keeping contact nonetheless. His ‘own way’ lead him to her house first. When he told her the news she felt the same mix of relief and disappointment that she knew he was feeling too, but she congratulated him anyway and cooked him dinner.
After that day he would come by occasionally in between his variety shows and acting schedules. The times he was with her were times where she would always hope that no one would beep her up, yet it still happened sometimes. Whenever it did, he would give her an understanding nod, tell her he would clean up the mess and let himself out. A few hours later, she would get a phone call from him, informing about the emergency and if her patient had made it. She would mostly be able to confirm this, but when that wasn’t the case, he would tell her that sometimes such things happened and that she had to be strong.
In the evenings, she would return to an empty house. The dishes would be done, her bed would be made and the coffee machine would be ready to make coffee, but it would still be empty. At such evenings she often felt the weight of being alone and would go to bed early, just to escape the silence that hung in every room. Yet sleep would not find her that early and she would lie awake for a while, thinking about her life and how it seemed so incomplete.
She cried tears over him that he never dried.
When his mother died, she went over to the burial together with her parents. As he bowed his head, holding back tears that he thought he wasn’t allowed to cry anymore at his age, she went over to him and wrapped her arms around his trembling body. He didn’t respond when she did so, but after the ceremony was over and everyone had left, he broke down in her arms, bawling like a little kid. She held him as he let out years of feelings kept inside, stroking his back in reassurance.
When her mother died, he came to the burial as well with his father. She did not hold back any tears, nor did she cry, because she had known for a long time that her mother was getting old. Yet when the ceremony was over and she had sent her father home, making sure that everything was fine there, she came home to see him waiting for her on her doorstep. He walked inside with her, set on making coffee for the both of them. He seemed to wait for her to cry, but when she offered him a cookie, he started crying instead, making her rush over to hug him and tell him it was alright, that her mother had lived a good life.
Whenever he had a bad day, he would come to her, and she would comfort him and tell him things were going to turn out fine. He would always blindly believe her, the way she blindly believed him. After gushing out his worries at her feet, he would feel drained and empty like he had always done at such moments, so she would place him on the couch and turn on the television to watch a random movie with him. At such times, he would rest his head on her lap as if he was still a little kid and she would absentmindedly stroke through his hair as she watched the television.
She showed him the love that he never felt.
And he never did. He never noticed her jealousy when others hugged him. He never was her knight in the shining armour, ready to take her away to a happily ever after. He never read the wonderful words she had used to express her love for him. He never heard how she encouraged him with all her heart. He never saw how fake her smiles were when she tried her best to be happy for him. He never dried her tears when she cried a river for him. He never felt the love she had for him in her heart.
She cursed the things he never knew.
- - - - -
The things..
..he never did
From the start on things had been the way they were. Seeing that their parents met almost every day for silly reasons, they would of course be together every day as well. It was only normal for them to become friends, just as good friends as their mothers had been. It even came to a point, somewhere during their years in kindergarten, that he would always be able to tell exactly where she was, for he knew her too well and knew what places of the building she liked to visit.
But as much as they were friends, she could be a terrible pain as well. She would disagree with him on everything and he had always had a hunch that she disagreed with him just to not have to agree. So what would normally be nothing, would always turn out to be the greatest of dilemmas for them and they would bicker over it until their discussions erupted into yelling and physical fighting. It would sometimes scare the adults watching over them.
He would always win the fights. Which wasn’t so hard to do. First of all, he was a boy, so he was stronger. Secondly, he could always retort to using his puppy eyes on the people who came rushing to pull them apart. They would then scold her and, when they were at home, one of their mothers would scoop him up and bring him to the tea table, cooing and pampering him. He would always show her a self-assured smile and she would make an ugly face at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.
He never stuck out his tongue at her like he wanted to do.
As time passed, things changed. They grew up, started to go to primary school and somehow she didn’t always disagree anymore. Not that she started agreeing with him at all times, but much more often, and when she still didn’t agree, the fights wouldn’t be as heavy as before, more yelling words, less pulling hair. They stuck together as friends in school too, but did also meet new friends. Yet he never failed to seek her out to share things with that mattered most in his life. Like when he got a new pair of roller blades, she was the first one apart from him to try them out.
Being in class with her meant having fun every day. They would turn their learning subjects into the most hilarious things ever by changing silly words or making stupid remarks. Their teachers would always scold them for being so loud, but still smile fondly because they never really disturbed others and always had the best marks of their class. It wasn’t hard for him to learn, as he enjoyed making the exercises and didn’t have to exert himself much to remember the material.
Besides, at home, they would always make games out of learning. Like when they were supposed to read more often, they would just read each other bedtime stories as they slept over. She would always be excited when the princes on their white horses came by and scooped up the princesses to take them away. He would laugh at her for that, telling her how ridiculous those princes were and which idiot would ever want to ride a white horse, because everyone knew they got dirty the fastest. After their tickle war, he would tell her that princes were ridiculous and she would show her adorable pout, making it obvious that she thought differently.
He never scooped her up and took her away like he wanted to do.
When high school came, he got into a difficult time. There was his dream of becoming a singer or dancer, yet it was hard for him to try and leave her. It took him until the third year to decide for his dream and soon after, he successfully got accepted into a music company. At first it was weird, being in a new place without having her by his side. He always felt a little lonely when he turned around to find her not being next to him. Yet after a while he got used to it and started to become friends with other trainees in the company.
He still saw her often, though, when his hours of training in the company were over and he went home for the night, he would often just stay over at her house. They didn’t live that far away from each other anyway. Whenever he saw her, he would tell her about his life as a trainee and words would just come gushing out about how he had walked passed this famous idol or how they had pulled yet another prank on one of his trainee friends. She would always laugh along with him and it would make him feel like she had been around all that time.
When visiting so often became a little hard, they settled on meeting up every Friday evening. On a certain one of those evenings, she came over with a plastic bag full of letters. He was surprised at first, but she told him that they were written by girls from their high school. He would read them at first, but after a while he would find that there was only one letter that caught his interest. So he would tell her to just dump the letters on the ground because he thought them ridiculous. Yet when she left later in the evening, he would always go and pick out that one letter out of them all to read the lines filled with love and magic.
He never told her how beautiful her words were like he wanted to do.
Around the time he debuted, she got into university. He had wanted to go with her on her first day, but practice and preparations had made it impossible. Yet he still called her nearly every evening and when he wasn’t able to call, he sent her e-mails. Their friendship did not whither, if not it grew stronger, for he refused to let go of her. She was his comfort and support in hard times when he needed someone to tell the worries that he could not tell his fellow members. He told her about them too, but would never fail to remind her how much more important she was to him, because he hated to have her believe differently.
When his band was involved in a car accident, he could count on her support at all times. He knew she gave up a lot of her studying time for him just to have hour long phone calls filled with nothing but their constant breathing that would always reassure him that everything was going to be fine. And it did. When the commotion settled down again and his band went on producing albums and making a living, she would fly through her years of university like it was nothing. He would look forward to her calls on her graduation day and would sometimes envy her for how happy and uncaring she sounded when telling him about her life.
For every album his band made, he would take a copy, make all the members sign it personally and then send it to her. He knew she would have bought an album herself long before the signed version arrived, but he still sent it, because he knew that she appreciated the gesture more than anything. With every concert they gave close by his home town, he would look for her in the audience and would always flawlessly find her cheering for him amongst thousands of other fans.
He never boasted about her cheering like he wanted to do.
Around the time when trouble started in his band, life settled down for her. As he struggled to survive the hardships, she moved to the big city and started her normal life as a doctor. He envied her for being able to do what she wanted, yet at the same time he wouldn’t give up on his band for the whole of his life. That was exactly what he liked most about her. She had never, not for once, even hinted to him that maybe he should not have chosen the path he had. She would always support him and encourage him. Even when he had to go to the army.
It was a hard period of time, the two years he spent there. Lots of his superiors were younger than him, yet he felt strangely content with just following someone’s orders. He guessed that’s what being in a music band for so long did to you. Sometimes you just turned off your brain and followed orders. He would only rarely have a chance to write to her or e-mail her, but he would do so at any opportunity he got. So when his two years of service were over, it was only normal for him to visit her first and give her a big hug to show how happy he was to see her again. He slept over in her guest room, but when he woke up the next morning, he strangely felt like being home.
So as he resumed activities in the entertainment industry, he would often call her again to just talk about their daily lives. When his band finally came out with a new album, six months after the youngest member came back from military service, it felt like just yesterday that he had last made them sign a copy especially for her. He brought it over himself and with the strange sensation of being at home, he decided to stop by more often. At such times he would often see the defeat in her eyes as she tried to smile when he told her how happy he was to have a friend like her.
He never asked her why her smiles were so fake like he wanted to do.
Strangely his life went by pretty fast. Month after month flashed by him like cars on a highway and he would rush from one concert tour to the other, bringing out at least one album a year. He was around his mid-thirties when the band finally decided to split up, promising to keep in contact and meet up in group often as they went their own ways. It was just natural for him to go to her house first, as it had somehow become his second home. When he told her the news of having split up, she gave him a hug and smiled, even though he saw the mixed emotions on her face.
From then on he would go by as often as he could manage in between all the schedules he had with his solo activities. The times he spent with her were probably the most relaxing times in his life. He felt calm whenever he was around her. Yet she would often get beeped up for an emergency at work. He noticed the guilty flash in her eyes every time it happened, so he reassured her it was fine and that he would clean up. He would always do the dishes, make up her bed and put the coffee machine ready to make coffee. And even though he always felt more like staying than leaving, he would set for home, while calling her to see how the emergency went.
In the evenings, he would be sitting in his couch at home, thinking about how cold and silent his house really was. He would put on some music and turn on the heater, but it would still be cold and silent. On such evenings, he found himself wondering what it would be like to live in her house, a place that felt so much more like a home to him than his own house did. His thoughts would automatically drift to her and he would always know, one way or another, on which evenings she would just go to bed and on which evenings she would cry first.
He never was able to dry her tears like he wanted to do.
When his mother died, she came over to the burial with her parents and somehow he felt strong, knowing that she was there for him. Yet when it got too much for him in the end anyway, she came over and wrapped her arms around him, like a mother would do to her child. At a certain point in time, when everyone had left already, he lifted his head to look at her. Yet at that moment, he smelled a hint of her perfume, a mix of peach and some unknown flower, and suddenly felt so protected that he allowed the tears to gush out. As he stood there, bawling like a baby, she held him.
When her mother died, he rushed over to the burial with his father, cancelling every schedule he had that day. He wanted to be there for her, for once be the one who consoled her, yet she didn’t let a tear wet her cheeks. He thought at first that she was trying to look strong, so he went to her house to wait for her there. But when she let him in and he made coffee for them, there still wasn’t even a hint of tears in her eyes. He admired how strong she was and realised it was something she got from her mother. Right then, she randomly offered him a cookie and the next moment he found himself crying in her arms again, being reassured that it was all okay.
He somehow had become soft or something to the likes of that, for he would always search for her when he had a bad day and she would always be there to comfort him and tell him that soon, things were going to change. He would always blindly believe her, because he trusted in her so much, and he could only hope that maybe, somehow, she had the same trust in him. After those long conversations, they would go watch the television and he would rest his head on her lap. As she absentmindedly stroke through his hair, he would always cherish the closeness of their bodies.
He never told her how much he loved her like he wanted to do.
And he always wanted to do so. He always wanted to stick out his tongue at her and show her how he knew about her jealousy. He always wanted to get a horse just to be able to be her prince on the white horse and take her away. He always wanted to write a letter back to her and use her own beautiful words to show her how wonderful they were. He always wanted to pull her on the stage and make her realise how much her cheers meant to him. He always wanted to poke her cheeks and tell her only to smile when it was genuine. He always wanted to be around at all times and dry her tears the moment she cried. He always wanted to grab her hand and tell her how much he loved her.
He cursed the things he never did.
- - - - -
The things..
..they never forgot
It all started when they were young. Being the children of two best friends, it was only natural for them to grow up to be best friends as well. Somewhere along the years, friendship had turned to love, yet they couldn’t help but wonder that maybe it had always been exactly that - love. For they had always felt the same way about each other, not once giving up the feelings even though the rational part of them had often wanted to let go. They had lived by each other’s side for years, knowing, hoping, that maybe someday the other would find someone to love and to care for. Yet their life had passed by just like that, and no matter how lonely they felt, there had never been any guy but him in her life, nor had there ever been any other woman than her in his life.
And then fate finally decided to kick in.
It took him forty years to realise that maybe the only one she would ever love and care for was he himself, but when that realisation hit him, the road to his future was crystal clear.
He would always remember the look on her face when he kissed her for the first time.
For years she had been there for him, stood by his side without ever asking anything. So when he finally started giving too, she was too shocked to respond with coherency.
She would always remember the way he kneeled down and proposed to her.
Even though they weren’t exactly young anymore when they married, he didn’t feel old at all, for she never gave him a chance to feel anything but pure bliss.
He would always remember how gorgeous she looked in the wedding dress.
As a doctor, she had learned how to save lives and help other people get their lives back on track. It was refreshing to see someone fill her life with new hope.
She would always remember how sweet his words were when he told her he loved her.
And they always would. They would always remember the cheers of their friends when they finally moved in with each other. They would always remember their honeymoon to New Zealand. They would always remember the first steps their adopted baby took. They would always remember the dance recital that earned their son a spot in a famous dance school. They would always remember how he wedded a beautiful wife. They would always remember the cute face of their first granddaughter. They would always remember the evenings spent on a balcony, looking at the stars, with a blanket pulled over their old and tired legs. But most of all, they would always remember each other.
They loved the things they never forgot.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 2.128 & 2.544 & 464
Summary: There are so many things to regret.
A/N: The very general idea of this fic came to mind as I reread one of my stories and saw a line that captivated me. It got stuck in my head from that day on, but I didn't do much with it. Then yesterday I was reading someone else's fanfictions, had an incredible weird moment of emotional-ness and then I felt the urge to write something myself.. It actually turned out much happier than I had in mind when I started, but less happy than I wanted it to be by the time I finished. So yah.. It's somewhere in-between-ish.. It was originally supposed to be a one-shot but then people complained so I wrote another shot and an epilogue. OTL
- - - - -
The things..
..he never knew
It started when they were young. Being the children of two best friends, they saw each other almost every day. It was only natural for them to grow up to be best friends as well. From the moment they entered kindergarten, every single day was spent together. When either of them was lost, all one had to do was ask the other, for they always flawlessly knew where to find each other.
Being together at all times brought fights along as well. A lot of them even. They would bicker about everything. From Barbie being prettier than Ken or not, to who was allowed to get a cookie first. Every decision made was preceded by a giant discussion that could sometimes even reach to the extent of pulling each other’s hair or yelling so loud that even teachers from other classes would worry about them.
He would always win the fights. Of course. All it took was a cute pout and anyone involved would be on his side, scolding her for being so mean to him. If it was one of their mothers, they would take him to the tea table and treat him like the most precious thing on earth. At such times, he would always send her a self-assured smile, before turning away from her.
She made ugly faces at him that he never noticed.
As they grew up and moved on to primary school, their fights lessened, even though they still stuck together like glue. They were still the best of friends, even though they made other friends in school. Still, every important moment was shared by only them. She was there to celebrate with him when he got his first pet and he was there to cry with her when they flushed her dead goldfish through the toilet.
They were their class’ best students, getting top marks at every test and beating the average level with ease. Yet when other people came by, they would never find them doing homework. The two of them would always be playing games somewhere in the house or the backyard. Never would one find them trying to stuff the material in their head. Learning, for them, was having fun.
From the moment on that they had been taught how to read, they would read each other the fairytales that their mothers had read to them and he would laugh over how silly they were. She would then get angry at him for laughing at the princes on the white horses whom she loved and admired so much. He would then laugh at her even more and the book reading would become a full scale tickle war. When they were done laughing, he would tell her that princes were ridiculous.
She imagined him to be the prince that he never was.
High school brought with it a lot of surprises. During the first two years they were still in the same class, still getting the best marks out of everyone and beating the average level with ease. But as the third year came, he took up the life of a trainee at a music company. Suddenly she found herself being alone in class more often than not, with the empty chair next to her that screamed his absence. It was weird at first, but she soon got used to it and simply hung out with other people from her class.
They still met up often outside of school, as he lived only a street or two away from her. He would always tell about his life in the company. At first he had only gotten jobs of cleaning the floor, but after a while, he would tell her stories of passing by famous idols and getting to know other trainees. She would always be just as excited about everything as he was himself, and when he would tell her about the pranks they pulled on each other, his mischievous grin and sparkling eyes would always make her able to imagine it perfectly.
Of course the people at school knew about him becoming a trainee with a chance of being famous in the future. As she reached her last year of high school, lots of girls were swooning over him and they would give her letters to give to him, because they knew how close she was with him. She would do as the girls asked and give him tons of letters every Friday evening. At first he would still take the time to read them, but after a while he didn’t bother anymore, telling her that he thought those love letters quite ridiculous.
She wrote letters to him that he never read.
As university started for her, his debut came. They hardly found the time anymore to see each other, but still kept in contact through e-mails and calls. Their friendship did not fade away, nor did it whither. It was safe to say that they were maybe even closer than ever, as he came to her with lots of his hardships that he didn’t want to burden his members with. He told her about them too and about how they were such good friends, but he never failed to reassure her that she was still his best buddy ever.
University for her passed by in a whim. There was a very troubled period during the time of the car accident his band was involved in, but when everything turned out to be alright, her life became better again as well. She would pass her exams with ease and skip from year to year as he skipped from album to album. She would tell him stories about her life in university and he would tell her how much he envied her sometimes for having such a normal life.
Every time a new album of his came out, she would be one of the first to buy it, often having pre-ordered it already long before. He would always send her a version signed by all the members, but she would still buy one herself anyway, to support him. She would be there at every concert close by, to cheer him on even though he didn’t see her in between the other fans. They would always be on the phone after a concert and he would tell her about the amazing feeling it was and how he wished she could be there with him.
She encouraged him with cheers that he never heard.
About five years after his debut, she finished university, leaving it as a newbie doctor with a fancy diploma. She moved to the big city and took up a job in one of the hospitals there, soon getting a reputation as a good doctor and often being called for emergencies. At the same time, there were some troubles in his band and it came to a point where the members had to enlist for their army service. So they did and he went.
She didn’t hear from him a lot in those two years.. The occasional letter that would end up on her doormat and the even more rare e-mail every now and then with updates about life in the army were the only things she got from him. Yet the absence only made the friendship stronger. The day he came back from the army, would also be the day he visited her new house, taking her out for dinner and sleeping over in her guest room. That same night she was called out for another emergency, leaving him to wake up all by himself the next morning.
Life took a turn for the better after that. He would call her often again as he resumed his idol activities, visiting many TV programs and variety shows. When the remaining twelve members of his band came out with a new album six months after the last one came back from military service, it was only normal for her to be the first to pre-order a copy. At times when he came to visit her, he would often hug her and tell her he was glad that he had a friend like her and that he wished she would have a wonderful life.
She faked smiles for him that he never saw through.
From then on life seemed to go in overdrive. Months passed like raindrops in a downpour and nothing much special happened. His band stayed active for another decent amount of years, making him mid-thirty by the time they decided to each go their own way, keeping contact nonetheless. His ‘own way’ lead him to her house first. When he told her the news she felt the same mix of relief and disappointment that she knew he was feeling too, but she congratulated him anyway and cooked him dinner.
After that day he would come by occasionally in between his variety shows and acting schedules. The times he was with her were times where she would always hope that no one would beep her up, yet it still happened sometimes. Whenever it did, he would give her an understanding nod, tell her he would clean up the mess and let himself out. A few hours later, she would get a phone call from him, informing about the emergency and if her patient had made it. She would mostly be able to confirm this, but when that wasn’t the case, he would tell her that sometimes such things happened and that she had to be strong.
In the evenings, she would return to an empty house. The dishes would be done, her bed would be made and the coffee machine would be ready to make coffee, but it would still be empty. At such evenings she often felt the weight of being alone and would go to bed early, just to escape the silence that hung in every room. Yet sleep would not find her that early and she would lie awake for a while, thinking about her life and how it seemed so incomplete.
She cried tears over him that he never dried.
When his mother died, she went over to the burial together with her parents. As he bowed his head, holding back tears that he thought he wasn’t allowed to cry anymore at his age, she went over to him and wrapped her arms around his trembling body. He didn’t respond when she did so, but after the ceremony was over and everyone had left, he broke down in her arms, bawling like a little kid. She held him as he let out years of feelings kept inside, stroking his back in reassurance.
When her mother died, he came to the burial as well with his father. She did not hold back any tears, nor did she cry, because she had known for a long time that her mother was getting old. Yet when the ceremony was over and she had sent her father home, making sure that everything was fine there, she came home to see him waiting for her on her doorstep. He walked inside with her, set on making coffee for the both of them. He seemed to wait for her to cry, but when she offered him a cookie, he started crying instead, making her rush over to hug him and tell him it was alright, that her mother had lived a good life.
Whenever he had a bad day, he would come to her, and she would comfort him and tell him things were going to turn out fine. He would always blindly believe her, the way she blindly believed him. After gushing out his worries at her feet, he would feel drained and empty like he had always done at such moments, so she would place him on the couch and turn on the television to watch a random movie with him. At such times, he would rest his head on her lap as if he was still a little kid and she would absentmindedly stroke through his hair as she watched the television.
She showed him the love that he never felt.
And he never did. He never noticed her jealousy when others hugged him. He never was her knight in the shining armour, ready to take her away to a happily ever after. He never read the wonderful words she had used to express her love for him. He never heard how she encouraged him with all her heart. He never saw how fake her smiles were when she tried her best to be happy for him. He never dried her tears when she cried a river for him. He never felt the love she had for him in her heart.
She cursed the things he never knew.
- - - - -
The things..
..he never did
From the start on things had been the way they were. Seeing that their parents met almost every day for silly reasons, they would of course be together every day as well. It was only normal for them to become friends, just as good friends as their mothers had been. It even came to a point, somewhere during their years in kindergarten, that he would always be able to tell exactly where she was, for he knew her too well and knew what places of the building she liked to visit.
But as much as they were friends, she could be a terrible pain as well. She would disagree with him on everything and he had always had a hunch that she disagreed with him just to not have to agree. So what would normally be nothing, would always turn out to be the greatest of dilemmas for them and they would bicker over it until their discussions erupted into yelling and physical fighting. It would sometimes scare the adults watching over them.
He would always win the fights. Which wasn’t so hard to do. First of all, he was a boy, so he was stronger. Secondly, he could always retort to using his puppy eyes on the people who came rushing to pull them apart. They would then scold her and, when they were at home, one of their mothers would scoop him up and bring him to the tea table, cooing and pampering him. He would always show her a self-assured smile and she would make an ugly face at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.
He never stuck out his tongue at her like he wanted to do.
As time passed, things changed. They grew up, started to go to primary school and somehow she didn’t always disagree anymore. Not that she started agreeing with him at all times, but much more often, and when she still didn’t agree, the fights wouldn’t be as heavy as before, more yelling words, less pulling hair. They stuck together as friends in school too, but did also meet new friends. Yet he never failed to seek her out to share things with that mattered most in his life. Like when he got a new pair of roller blades, she was the first one apart from him to try them out.
Being in class with her meant having fun every day. They would turn their learning subjects into the most hilarious things ever by changing silly words or making stupid remarks. Their teachers would always scold them for being so loud, but still smile fondly because they never really disturbed others and always had the best marks of their class. It wasn’t hard for him to learn, as he enjoyed making the exercises and didn’t have to exert himself much to remember the material.
Besides, at home, they would always make games out of learning. Like when they were supposed to read more often, they would just read each other bedtime stories as they slept over. She would always be excited when the princes on their white horses came by and scooped up the princesses to take them away. He would laugh at her for that, telling her how ridiculous those princes were and which idiot would ever want to ride a white horse, because everyone knew they got dirty the fastest. After their tickle war, he would tell her that princes were ridiculous and she would show her adorable pout, making it obvious that she thought differently.
He never scooped her up and took her away like he wanted to do.
When high school came, he got into a difficult time. There was his dream of becoming a singer or dancer, yet it was hard for him to try and leave her. It took him until the third year to decide for his dream and soon after, he successfully got accepted into a music company. At first it was weird, being in a new place without having her by his side. He always felt a little lonely when he turned around to find her not being next to him. Yet after a while he got used to it and started to become friends with other trainees in the company.
He still saw her often, though, when his hours of training in the company were over and he went home for the night, he would often just stay over at her house. They didn’t live that far away from each other anyway. Whenever he saw her, he would tell her about his life as a trainee and words would just come gushing out about how he had walked passed this famous idol or how they had pulled yet another prank on one of his trainee friends. She would always laugh along with him and it would make him feel like she had been around all that time.
When visiting so often became a little hard, they settled on meeting up every Friday evening. On a certain one of those evenings, she came over with a plastic bag full of letters. He was surprised at first, but she told him that they were written by girls from their high school. He would read them at first, but after a while he would find that there was only one letter that caught his interest. So he would tell her to just dump the letters on the ground because he thought them ridiculous. Yet when she left later in the evening, he would always go and pick out that one letter out of them all to read the lines filled with love and magic.
He never told her how beautiful her words were like he wanted to do.
Around the time he debuted, she got into university. He had wanted to go with her on her first day, but practice and preparations had made it impossible. Yet he still called her nearly every evening and when he wasn’t able to call, he sent her e-mails. Their friendship did not whither, if not it grew stronger, for he refused to let go of her. She was his comfort and support in hard times when he needed someone to tell the worries that he could not tell his fellow members. He told her about them too, but would never fail to remind her how much more important she was to him, because he hated to have her believe differently.
When his band was involved in a car accident, he could count on her support at all times. He knew she gave up a lot of her studying time for him just to have hour long phone calls filled with nothing but their constant breathing that would always reassure him that everything was going to be fine. And it did. When the commotion settled down again and his band went on producing albums and making a living, she would fly through her years of university like it was nothing. He would look forward to her calls on her graduation day and would sometimes envy her for how happy and uncaring she sounded when telling him about her life.
For every album his band made, he would take a copy, make all the members sign it personally and then send it to her. He knew she would have bought an album herself long before the signed version arrived, but he still sent it, because he knew that she appreciated the gesture more than anything. With every concert they gave close by his home town, he would look for her in the audience and would always flawlessly find her cheering for him amongst thousands of other fans.
He never boasted about her cheering like he wanted to do.
Around the time when trouble started in his band, life settled down for her. As he struggled to survive the hardships, she moved to the big city and started her normal life as a doctor. He envied her for being able to do what she wanted, yet at the same time he wouldn’t give up on his band for the whole of his life. That was exactly what he liked most about her. She had never, not for once, even hinted to him that maybe he should not have chosen the path he had. She would always support him and encourage him. Even when he had to go to the army.
It was a hard period of time, the two years he spent there. Lots of his superiors were younger than him, yet he felt strangely content with just following someone’s orders. He guessed that’s what being in a music band for so long did to you. Sometimes you just turned off your brain and followed orders. He would only rarely have a chance to write to her or e-mail her, but he would do so at any opportunity he got. So when his two years of service were over, it was only normal for him to visit her first and give her a big hug to show how happy he was to see her again. He slept over in her guest room, but when he woke up the next morning, he strangely felt like being home.
So as he resumed activities in the entertainment industry, he would often call her again to just talk about their daily lives. When his band finally came out with a new album, six months after the youngest member came back from military service, it felt like just yesterday that he had last made them sign a copy especially for her. He brought it over himself and with the strange sensation of being at home, he decided to stop by more often. At such times he would often see the defeat in her eyes as she tried to smile when he told her how happy he was to have a friend like her.
He never asked her why her smiles were so fake like he wanted to do.
Strangely his life went by pretty fast. Month after month flashed by him like cars on a highway and he would rush from one concert tour to the other, bringing out at least one album a year. He was around his mid-thirties when the band finally decided to split up, promising to keep in contact and meet up in group often as they went their own ways. It was just natural for him to go to her house first, as it had somehow become his second home. When he told her the news of having split up, she gave him a hug and smiled, even though he saw the mixed emotions on her face.
From then on he would go by as often as he could manage in between all the schedules he had with his solo activities. The times he spent with her were probably the most relaxing times in his life. He felt calm whenever he was around her. Yet she would often get beeped up for an emergency at work. He noticed the guilty flash in her eyes every time it happened, so he reassured her it was fine and that he would clean up. He would always do the dishes, make up her bed and put the coffee machine ready to make coffee. And even though he always felt more like staying than leaving, he would set for home, while calling her to see how the emergency went.
In the evenings, he would be sitting in his couch at home, thinking about how cold and silent his house really was. He would put on some music and turn on the heater, but it would still be cold and silent. On such evenings, he found himself wondering what it would be like to live in her house, a place that felt so much more like a home to him than his own house did. His thoughts would automatically drift to her and he would always know, one way or another, on which evenings she would just go to bed and on which evenings she would cry first.
He never was able to dry her tears like he wanted to do.
When his mother died, she came over to the burial with her parents and somehow he felt strong, knowing that she was there for him. Yet when it got too much for him in the end anyway, she came over and wrapped her arms around him, like a mother would do to her child. At a certain point in time, when everyone had left already, he lifted his head to look at her. Yet at that moment, he smelled a hint of her perfume, a mix of peach and some unknown flower, and suddenly felt so protected that he allowed the tears to gush out. As he stood there, bawling like a baby, she held him.
When her mother died, he rushed over to the burial with his father, cancelling every schedule he had that day. He wanted to be there for her, for once be the one who consoled her, yet she didn’t let a tear wet her cheeks. He thought at first that she was trying to look strong, so he went to her house to wait for her there. But when she let him in and he made coffee for them, there still wasn’t even a hint of tears in her eyes. He admired how strong she was and realised it was something she got from her mother. Right then, she randomly offered him a cookie and the next moment he found himself crying in her arms again, being reassured that it was all okay.
He somehow had become soft or something to the likes of that, for he would always search for her when he had a bad day and she would always be there to comfort him and tell him that soon, things were going to change. He would always blindly believe her, because he trusted in her so much, and he could only hope that maybe, somehow, she had the same trust in him. After those long conversations, they would go watch the television and he would rest his head on her lap. As she absentmindedly stroke through his hair, he would always cherish the closeness of their bodies.
He never told her how much he loved her like he wanted to do.
And he always wanted to do so. He always wanted to stick out his tongue at her and show her how he knew about her jealousy. He always wanted to get a horse just to be able to be her prince on the white horse and take her away. He always wanted to write a letter back to her and use her own beautiful words to show her how wonderful they were. He always wanted to pull her on the stage and make her realise how much her cheers meant to him. He always wanted to poke her cheeks and tell her only to smile when it was genuine. He always wanted to be around at all times and dry her tears the moment she cried. He always wanted to grab her hand and tell her how much he loved her.
He cursed the things he never did.
- - - - -
The things..
..they never forgot
It all started when they were young. Being the children of two best friends, it was only natural for them to grow up to be best friends as well. Somewhere along the years, friendship had turned to love, yet they couldn’t help but wonder that maybe it had always been exactly that - love. For they had always felt the same way about each other, not once giving up the feelings even though the rational part of them had often wanted to let go. They had lived by each other’s side for years, knowing, hoping, that maybe someday the other would find someone to love and to care for. Yet their life had passed by just like that, and no matter how lonely they felt, there had never been any guy but him in her life, nor had there ever been any other woman than her in his life.
And then fate finally decided to kick in.
It took him forty years to realise that maybe the only one she would ever love and care for was he himself, but when that realisation hit him, the road to his future was crystal clear.
He would always remember the look on her face when he kissed her for the first time.
For years she had been there for him, stood by his side without ever asking anything. So when he finally started giving too, she was too shocked to respond with coherency.
She would always remember the way he kneeled down and proposed to her.
Even though they weren’t exactly young anymore when they married, he didn’t feel old at all, for she never gave him a chance to feel anything but pure bliss.
He would always remember how gorgeous she looked in the wedding dress.
As a doctor, she had learned how to save lives and help other people get their lives back on track. It was refreshing to see someone fill her life with new hope.
She would always remember how sweet his words were when he told her he loved her.
And they always would. They would always remember the cheers of their friends when they finally moved in with each other. They would always remember their honeymoon to New Zealand. They would always remember the first steps their adopted baby took. They would always remember the dance recital that earned their son a spot in a famous dance school. They would always remember how he wedded a beautiful wife. They would always remember the cute face of their first granddaughter. They would always remember the evenings spent on a balcony, looking at the stars, with a blanket pulled over their old and tired legs. But most of all, they would always remember each other.
They loved the things they never forgot.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
[FIC] Never cry again
Title: Never cry again
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 522
Summary: It hurts to see her cry over someone else
A/N: So I was listening to Tell me goodbye by Big Bang over and over while reading someone else's fanfic and suddenly drabble inspiration came to me. I started writing, just randomly spouting the words that entered my mind. And this is what came out of it. A short, nonsensical drabble that holds no real value, but I think it's still a nice, short read. ^^ Putting in names of the persons just wasn't possible for me once again, but the people I was thinking of while writing this are below the story, for those who don't want to have their view on the story messed up by my personal thoughts about the characters.
Hope you enjoy this short drabble.
- - - - -
A big silence hung around them as she stared. Stared at the person in front of her and tried to grasp exactly what he had said. Tried to grasp the meaning of his words as she felt the tears starting to form in her eyes. Tears that would soon wet her cheeks.
He looked back at her, obviously seeing the brimming tears, but doing nothing to stop them. She wished he would just take a step towards her, show her that he still cared, even though the words he said to her were far from nice or loving. She wished he would just go back to being the good friend he used to be. A friend he was supposed to be.
“Yah.. So.. I’ll be going then.” was all he said, however, turning around and walking away. She followed his retreat with her eyes, unable to move, unable to grasp the truth behind her words. Her body felt like she would lose control over it soon and she expected her legs to buckle out from underneath her any moment now.. And indeed they did.
She felt herself go limp and her view slowly tilted over. She could see the ground coming closer bit by bit, but before the thud of hitting rock bottom could register in her mind, something -or better someone- stopped her fall. Strong arms pulled her back on her feet and her face was pressed against the soft fabric of a T-shirt. She suddenly noticed that the tears were already making their way down over her cheeks and the first sob made her body shock.
Comforting hands wiped the tears from her face and tucked her hair behind her ears, her back was being stroked in a very relaxing way and a calming voice mumbled soft nothings in her ear to make her stop crying, but her body did not respond to any of it. As her tears kept running, she found herself wondering about the smell the T-shirt she was leaning against had and how it faintly reminded her of lavender in the afternoon sun.
Slowly her tears came to an end and her sobbing turned into occasional sniffing, until it completely died away. She felt her heartbeat calm down as she slowly lifted her head to look up at whoever it was that was standing with her. The first thing she noticed was how close he actually was standing and how reassuring his arms around her really felt. A little smile pulled up the corners of his mouth and she could only smile back.
“Don’t cry over him.” the same calming voice from before told her, now using words that actually meant something to her, making her avert her eyes to the ground. There was silence between them as she tried to look at everything but him, yet in the end she failed and ended up still looking up at his face. “I don’t want you to cry over anyone but me.” he said, letting his fingers trail the line of her cheek.
“Why?”
“Because that way I can make sure you never have to cry again.”
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 522
Summary: It hurts to see her cry over someone else
A/N: So I was listening to Tell me goodbye by Big Bang over and over while reading someone else's fanfic and suddenly drabble inspiration came to me. I started writing, just randomly spouting the words that entered my mind. And this is what came out of it. A short, nonsensical drabble that holds no real value, but I think it's still a nice, short read. ^^ Putting in names of the persons just wasn't possible for me once again, but the people I was thinking of while writing this are below the story, for those who don't want to have their view on the story messed up by my personal thoughts about the characters.
Hope you enjoy this short drabble.
- - - - -
A big silence hung around them as she stared. Stared at the person in front of her and tried to grasp exactly what he had said. Tried to grasp the meaning of his words as she felt the tears starting to form in her eyes. Tears that would soon wet her cheeks.
He looked back at her, obviously seeing the brimming tears, but doing nothing to stop them. She wished he would just take a step towards her, show her that he still cared, even though the words he said to her were far from nice or loving. She wished he would just go back to being the good friend he used to be. A friend he was supposed to be.
“Yah.. So.. I’ll be going then.” was all he said, however, turning around and walking away. She followed his retreat with her eyes, unable to move, unable to grasp the truth behind her words. Her body felt like she would lose control over it soon and she expected her legs to buckle out from underneath her any moment now.. And indeed they did.
She felt herself go limp and her view slowly tilted over. She could see the ground coming closer bit by bit, but before the thud of hitting rock bottom could register in her mind, something -or better someone- stopped her fall. Strong arms pulled her back on her feet and her face was pressed against the soft fabric of a T-shirt. She suddenly noticed that the tears were already making their way down over her cheeks and the first sob made her body shock.
Comforting hands wiped the tears from her face and tucked her hair behind her ears, her back was being stroked in a very relaxing way and a calming voice mumbled soft nothings in her ear to make her stop crying, but her body did not respond to any of it. As her tears kept running, she found herself wondering about the smell the T-shirt she was leaning against had and how it faintly reminded her of lavender in the afternoon sun.
Slowly her tears came to an end and her sobbing turned into occasional sniffing, until it completely died away. She felt her heartbeat calm down as she slowly lifted her head to look up at whoever it was that was standing with her. The first thing she noticed was how close he actually was standing and how reassuring his arms around her really felt. A little smile pulled up the corners of his mouth and she could only smile back.
“Don’t cry over him.” the same calming voice from before told her, now using words that actually meant something to her, making her avert her eyes to the ground. There was silence between them as she tried to look at everything but him, yet in the end she failed and ended up still looking up at his face. “I don’t want you to cry over anyone but me.” he said, letting his fingers trail the line of her cheek.
“Why?”
“Because that way I can make sure you never have to cry again.”
[FICS] Travel Writings
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G to PG-13
Wordcount: Varying from 76 to 362
A/N: I travelled for three weeks and several OC things came to mind while I was there. They're all too short to post separately, but I wanted to share anyway. Bits and pieces of things that might be awesome stories, but will never be more than this for me. If anyone gets inspired to write by any of these, feel free to take it and continue it. But do be so kind to show me the ending result, I'm a curious person. ^.^
- - - - -
“No I don’t want more fries, goddamnit!” he curses, pushing away the plate she offers him. She seems surprised but offers him the plate again anyway. He starts to walk away but she follows after him, the pile of fries on the plate stretched out to him still. She insists, but he cuts her off with a few well aimed accusations. He hates the way they make her face fall, but he hates the way she keeps pushing him into things even more. When he steps out of the door, she tells him to not come back either. He gets into his car and drives around aimlessly before pulling over at McDonalds.
It was never about those damn fries anyway.
-*-*-*-*-
She smiles as she breathes in a large gulp of air, the tiredness seemingly falling away as she lets her shoulders relax. This is it. The start of her new life. Leaving behind everything and starting over in a country halfway around the world. No one to judge her past, no one to criticise her moves. This is how the world will know her from now on. Just a normal girl from a normal country, trying her luck somewhere else.
The plane glides through the air without much trouble. The window on her left gives her a clear view on the fluffy clouds. There is no rain here, above those clouds. All is sunshine and blue skies. This is probably the hottest part of the world, but where she is, inside of a plane, no one notices.
What she doesn’t expect as she walks through the airport is two arms wrapping around her and lips touching her cheek. “Bye babe.” The words are soft yet familiar and the way her heart reacts to them reveals how much she wants the reassurance. Even though she’s telling herself that she doesn’t want it to be true, her heart hopes that it’s the only person she could regret leaving behind.
It’s him, with all his flaws and imperfections that makes her wonder if leaving really is as good of an idea as she made it out to be at first. She wonders if maybe she should have tried something else first before leaving, but then his anger and their fights pop back into her mind and she has no regrets left anymore.
“Hey babe.” his voice sounds through the phone, seeming more distant than usual. She tells herself it’s all the miles in between them and fading emotions have nothing to do with it. She knows better than that.
Three years into her first job, she walks into her office and sees a new assistant. She eyes him shortly, convinced that he’s just going to be a co-worker. Four months later he kisses her. Two years into their relationship, she leaves him and the thousands of fights between them to set for a new future.
Now read this from bottom to top.
-*-*-*-*-
They’re several kilometres above the ground when the voice tells them turbulence is going to be a pain again. A minute later the plane starts shaking and she’s convinced they’re going to die soon. He seems to not even notice anymore.
“First time?” he asks after a while. She merely nods, stuck to the seat as if it’s going to keep her from drowning should they indeed end up crashing. He smiles at her, then suddenly unbuckles his seat belt and gets up. “Come here.” he says with a smile.
“What are you doing!?” she hisses mortified, looking around to see if anyone can see them. Surely he will be fired if someone sees him now. Surely there is some rule against enhancing the plane’s crashing possibility. He doesn’t seem to think so, however, and if he does, he doesn’t mind. He walks up to her and unbuckles her seat belt too, easily pulling her out of her seat. She’s still convinced she’s going to die soon, only now it’ll be even sooner.
“The trick is not to think about it.” he tells her, meanwhile pulling her flush against him and taking her hand. He starts to hum something next to her ear, his voice a nice change to the motor’s rumbling.
And then they’re dancing. Sort of. Floating through the small cabinet as the plane keeps on rumbling. But after a while she finds she doesn’t notice it anymore and when he lets go it’s rather disappointing.
He smells like washing detergent, the plane and some manly deodorant. It makes her feel safe now, that smell, and every time they pass by each other throughout the next hours of the flight, he smiles at her encouragingly. She likes it. It keeps her calm. She likes him too for the same reasons.
When they land, they let the passengers get off first. He smiles, waves at her once and then walks out of her life again.
He was, after all, just passing by.
-*-*-*-*-
It’s morning before he knows it, and when he opens his eyes, the stars are gone.
They meet like everyone does; unexpectedly. He holds a flower up for his little sister, who proceeds to take it and then give it to her. She smiles at the little girl, then looks up at him.
“Thank you,” she says. In words, but also in the slight raise of her eyebrows and the quirking of her lips. She lets his sister take the flower again to put it in her hair. There’s an exchange of words and smiles between the two girls, before she gets up and walks away.
His sister demands ice cream.
-*-*-*-*-
Hostesses are much like waitresses, just a little higher above the ground. They are there to help out the passengers, make the trip worth it. Custom made suits, matching hats, a bucketload of tasks and responsibilities, high heels, good customer service. They are the servants yet the boss, they are free yet make up a part of the system. Hostesses are queens and beggars at the same time.
Being a hostess was one of her dreams since childhood days.
-*-*-*-*-
“So what you’re saying is...we’re done for?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Oh great. Just great. Wonderful.” He frowned slightly, looking at the ball of fire hurling their way. Surprisingly it was less huge than he had imagined at first. With such a small thing they would surely not all die.
“The fire feeds on everything it touches. Once it hits, no one will know where to hide.”
“Ho shit.”
And that was the end of Victorian the wise.
-*-*-*-*-
She’s fifteen when she finds her first boyfriend. He’s nice and sweet and she tells him how much she loves him when they’re sixteen. Her boyfriend proceeds to find someone prettier and leaves.
He’s sixteen when he kisses for the first time. He tells her how pretty she is and how much she taught him about girls and relationships. The next week she gets drunk again and kisses yet another guy.
Maybe they should’ve realised then already how it was going to end, but they didn’t. Instead they happily rolled into yet another doomed relationship, and after that several more.
-*-*-*-*-
Some people don’t have to try hard to be pretty. He envies them. When he looks at her, he always sees her trying her best to look nicer, better, prettier. He finds that sad, but doesn’t know what to do about it. Until she kisses him and he realises just what - or who - she’s trying to be pretty for. So he reassures her that she’s pretty enough. …. And continues to do so every day after that.
-*-*-*-*-
It had been a few years since accepting a drink had gotten her anything more than some fun talking during the night, but with this guy it was different. And he proved that when they ended up passing out on her bed together with her waking up to a nice breakfast.
They had been too drunk to do anything, or at least that’s what she hoped to be the truth. Her sore muscles could be from anything, really.
It baffled her slightly, sitting on the edge of her chair, shoving some fancy omelet into her mouth that someone was interested in her. But he left with a smile and a wave and her number in his phone. Not that she actually expected him to call.
But he did, a few days later, and the steak they ate was amazing, but the things that came after that were even more so.
Rating: G to PG-13
Wordcount: Varying from 76 to 362
A/N: I travelled for three weeks and several OC things came to mind while I was there. They're all too short to post separately, but I wanted to share anyway. Bits and pieces of things that might be awesome stories, but will never be more than this for me. If anyone gets inspired to write by any of these, feel free to take it and continue it. But do be so kind to show me the ending result, I'm a curious person. ^.^
- - - - -
“No I don’t want more fries, goddamnit!” he curses, pushing away the plate she offers him. She seems surprised but offers him the plate again anyway. He starts to walk away but she follows after him, the pile of fries on the plate stretched out to him still. She insists, but he cuts her off with a few well aimed accusations. He hates the way they make her face fall, but he hates the way she keeps pushing him into things even more. When he steps out of the door, she tells him to not come back either. He gets into his car and drives around aimlessly before pulling over at McDonalds.
It was never about those damn fries anyway.
-*-*-*-*-
She smiles as she breathes in a large gulp of air, the tiredness seemingly falling away as she lets her shoulders relax. This is it. The start of her new life. Leaving behind everything and starting over in a country halfway around the world. No one to judge her past, no one to criticise her moves. This is how the world will know her from now on. Just a normal girl from a normal country, trying her luck somewhere else.
The plane glides through the air without much trouble. The window on her left gives her a clear view on the fluffy clouds. There is no rain here, above those clouds. All is sunshine and blue skies. This is probably the hottest part of the world, but where she is, inside of a plane, no one notices.
What she doesn’t expect as she walks through the airport is two arms wrapping around her and lips touching her cheek. “Bye babe.” The words are soft yet familiar and the way her heart reacts to them reveals how much she wants the reassurance. Even though she’s telling herself that she doesn’t want it to be true, her heart hopes that it’s the only person she could regret leaving behind.
It’s him, with all his flaws and imperfections that makes her wonder if leaving really is as good of an idea as she made it out to be at first. She wonders if maybe she should have tried something else first before leaving, but then his anger and their fights pop back into her mind and she has no regrets left anymore.
“Hey babe.” his voice sounds through the phone, seeming more distant than usual. She tells herself it’s all the miles in between them and fading emotions have nothing to do with it. She knows better than that.
Three years into her first job, she walks into her office and sees a new assistant. She eyes him shortly, convinced that he’s just going to be a co-worker. Four months later he kisses her. Two years into their relationship, she leaves him and the thousands of fights between them to set for a new future.
Now read this from bottom to top.
-*-*-*-*-
They’re several kilometres above the ground when the voice tells them turbulence is going to be a pain again. A minute later the plane starts shaking and she’s convinced they’re going to die soon. He seems to not even notice anymore.
“First time?” he asks after a while. She merely nods, stuck to the seat as if it’s going to keep her from drowning should they indeed end up crashing. He smiles at her, then suddenly unbuckles his seat belt and gets up. “Come here.” he says with a smile.
“What are you doing!?” she hisses mortified, looking around to see if anyone can see them. Surely he will be fired if someone sees him now. Surely there is some rule against enhancing the plane’s crashing possibility. He doesn’t seem to think so, however, and if he does, he doesn’t mind. He walks up to her and unbuckles her seat belt too, easily pulling her out of her seat. She’s still convinced she’s going to die soon, only now it’ll be even sooner.
“The trick is not to think about it.” he tells her, meanwhile pulling her flush against him and taking her hand. He starts to hum something next to her ear, his voice a nice change to the motor’s rumbling.
And then they’re dancing. Sort of. Floating through the small cabinet as the plane keeps on rumbling. But after a while she finds she doesn’t notice it anymore and when he lets go it’s rather disappointing.
He smells like washing detergent, the plane and some manly deodorant. It makes her feel safe now, that smell, and every time they pass by each other throughout the next hours of the flight, he smiles at her encouragingly. She likes it. It keeps her calm. She likes him too for the same reasons.
When they land, they let the passengers get off first. He smiles, waves at her once and then walks out of her life again.
He was, after all, just passing by.
-*-*-*-*-
It’s morning before he knows it, and when he opens his eyes, the stars are gone.
They meet like everyone does; unexpectedly. He holds a flower up for his little sister, who proceeds to take it and then give it to her. She smiles at the little girl, then looks up at him.
“Thank you,” she says. In words, but also in the slight raise of her eyebrows and the quirking of her lips. She lets his sister take the flower again to put it in her hair. There’s an exchange of words and smiles between the two girls, before she gets up and walks away.
His sister demands ice cream.
-*-*-*-*-
Hostesses are much like waitresses, just a little higher above the ground. They are there to help out the passengers, make the trip worth it. Custom made suits, matching hats, a bucketload of tasks and responsibilities, high heels, good customer service. They are the servants yet the boss, they are free yet make up a part of the system. Hostesses are queens and beggars at the same time.
Being a hostess was one of her dreams since childhood days.
-*-*-*-*-
“So what you’re saying is...we’re done for?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Oh great. Just great. Wonderful.” He frowned slightly, looking at the ball of fire hurling their way. Surprisingly it was less huge than he had imagined at first. With such a small thing they would surely not all die.
“The fire feeds on everything it touches. Once it hits, no one will know where to hide.”
“Ho shit.”
And that was the end of Victorian the wise.
-*-*-*-*-
She’s fifteen when she finds her first boyfriend. He’s nice and sweet and she tells him how much she loves him when they’re sixteen. Her boyfriend proceeds to find someone prettier and leaves.
He’s sixteen when he kisses for the first time. He tells her how pretty she is and how much she taught him about girls and relationships. The next week she gets drunk again and kisses yet another guy.
Maybe they should’ve realised then already how it was going to end, but they didn’t. Instead they happily rolled into yet another doomed relationship, and after that several more.
-*-*-*-*-
Some people don’t have to try hard to be pretty. He envies them. When he looks at her, he always sees her trying her best to look nicer, better, prettier. He finds that sad, but doesn’t know what to do about it. Until she kisses him and he realises just what - or who - she’s trying to be pretty for. So he reassures her that she’s pretty enough. …. And continues to do so every day after that.
-*-*-*-*-
It had been a few years since accepting a drink had gotten her anything more than some fun talking during the night, but with this guy it was different. And he proved that when they ended up passing out on her bed together with her waking up to a nice breakfast.
They had been too drunk to do anything, or at least that’s what she hoped to be the truth. Her sore muscles could be from anything, really.
It baffled her slightly, sitting on the edge of her chair, shoving some fancy omelet into her mouth that someone was interested in her. But he left with a smile and a wave and her number in his phone. Not that she actually expected him to call.
But he did, a few days later, and the steak they ate was amazing, but the things that came after that were even more so.
[FIC] Sweet Perfection
Title: Sweet Perfection
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 542
Summary: It's too early to get up, so she stays in bed a little longer and watches him.
A/N: This was written on a day when I was bored and wanted to write something out of nothing. It's another proof of how I fail at describing people in an original way and also a sign that I'm going delirious. Maybe. Enjoy.
- - - - -
They often say that when in love, one will always think of the other as perfect, because love clouds the reasonable mind. They say that when in love, one will not see the flaws and negative points about someone, because one will be too focused on loving the other and thinking him too good to be true. They are wrong. It’s the slight inaccuracies that make the other worth loving and it’s the flaws that make him human.
He is a perfect example of that.
His skin is rough, weathered, slightly dry from the obvious overuse of make-up. There’s a scar on his right cheek – from back in the days when he used to get rid off pimples with his fingers instead of the pimple cream, so he confessed – and there’s a little bit of dirt on his forehead from the sweat that has only recently dried up. His eyes are closed, but the slight wrinkles at his eyes and around the bridge of his nose show that he is still awake, because his face smoothes out once he sleeps.
He’s breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling with every inhale or exhale, but there’s a slight hesitation in the movement when he stops breathing for a moment. His breath is warm, however, and smells like the spices in the food he ate not that long before. It’s repulsive in a way, because the smell is so strong, yet there isn’t really an urge to take a distance from it, because it’s him and being as close to him as possible is the only thing that matters right now.
When he opens his eyes and turns his head a little, a smile appears on his face. His left eye gets scrunched up a little and when focusing on it too long, he might look slightly awkward that way, but it’s the way his eye gets scrunched up that makes his smile so cute at the same time, so it doesn’t matter too much. There’s also a little dimple at the corner of his mouth which is just so cute that the scrunched up eye isn’t even noticeable at a first glance.
The thing is.. He is not perfect. Even just his face, such a small part of him, isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to those who know what love really is. It doesn’t mean not noticing the flaws, but it means seeing them, accepting them and loving them too. He is wonderful in his own way; beautiful to those who choose to see the good things instead of the bad, flawless to those who accept slightly less positive points as they are.
It doesn’t matter that he might not have the voice of an angel, or the looks of a God. It doesn’t matter that his hair stands in all directions when he comes out of bed. It doesn’t matter that he’s too grumpy in the mornings and too touchy in the evenings, because when it all comes down to things, his voice still sounds so caring, his hair is still soft, his grumpiness is still adorable and there’s nothing better than hiding away in his arms during the cold evenings.
He is perfect enough as he is.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 542
Summary: It's too early to get up, so she stays in bed a little longer and watches him.
A/N: This was written on a day when I was bored and wanted to write something out of nothing. It's another proof of how I fail at describing people in an original way and also a sign that I'm going delirious. Maybe. Enjoy.
- - - - -
They often say that when in love, one will always think of the other as perfect, because love clouds the reasonable mind. They say that when in love, one will not see the flaws and negative points about someone, because one will be too focused on loving the other and thinking him too good to be true. They are wrong. It’s the slight inaccuracies that make the other worth loving and it’s the flaws that make him human.
He is a perfect example of that.
His skin is rough, weathered, slightly dry from the obvious overuse of make-up. There’s a scar on his right cheek – from back in the days when he used to get rid off pimples with his fingers instead of the pimple cream, so he confessed – and there’s a little bit of dirt on his forehead from the sweat that has only recently dried up. His eyes are closed, but the slight wrinkles at his eyes and around the bridge of his nose show that he is still awake, because his face smoothes out once he sleeps.
He’s breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling with every inhale or exhale, but there’s a slight hesitation in the movement when he stops breathing for a moment. His breath is warm, however, and smells like the spices in the food he ate not that long before. It’s repulsive in a way, because the smell is so strong, yet there isn’t really an urge to take a distance from it, because it’s him and being as close to him as possible is the only thing that matters right now.
When he opens his eyes and turns his head a little, a smile appears on his face. His left eye gets scrunched up a little and when focusing on it too long, he might look slightly awkward that way, but it’s the way his eye gets scrunched up that makes his smile so cute at the same time, so it doesn’t matter too much. There’s also a little dimple at the corner of his mouth which is just so cute that the scrunched up eye isn’t even noticeable at a first glance.
The thing is.. He is not perfect. Even just his face, such a small part of him, isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to those who know what love really is. It doesn’t mean not noticing the flaws, but it means seeing them, accepting them and loving them too. He is wonderful in his own way; beautiful to those who choose to see the good things instead of the bad, flawless to those who accept slightly less positive points as they are.
It doesn’t matter that he might not have the voice of an angel, or the looks of a God. It doesn’t matter that his hair stands in all directions when he comes out of bed. It doesn’t matter that he’s too grumpy in the mornings and too touchy in the evenings, because when it all comes down to things, his voice still sounds so caring, his hair is still soft, his grumpiness is still adorable and there’s nothing better than hiding away in his arms during the cold evenings.
He is perfect enough as he is.
[FIC] Wordless Truth
Title: Wordless Truth
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 225
Summary: In an attempt to make the world a more truthful place, a microchip was created.
A/N: I wrote this in like 5 minutes but my Rain dongsaeng thought that I should post it up here, so here we go. x] No name for this, no explanation for this. It just is & exists, so please do enjoy it. xD
- - - - -
In an attempt to make the world a more truthful place, the ‘World Improvement Union’ decided to create a tiny microchip that would stop people from saying untruthful things by muting their voices the moment they were starting to tell lies.
At first they made only a few people get it implanted to test it for possible side-effects, but when everything appeared to work normally, the chip was soon sold all over the world and became obligatory. After only a few months, they found the chip did hold a problem, however, because everywhere in the world people found themselves unable to tell their significant others that they loved them. Whenever they tried, there would be only silence.
Investigation of the chip brought forth no bad results in the mechanic of the device, however, and scientists were now faced with a gigantic riddle as to why the people were unable to express their feelings in words. Everyone was desperate, there were protest actions against the chip and people demanded to have it taken out of them.
But somewhere in the world, there was a house where two people had remained inside, sitting on the couch together, huddled close, with their arms around each other, enjoying each other’s presence. The deaf boy and the mute girl needed no words to know what was truth and what wasn’t.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 225
Summary: In an attempt to make the world a more truthful place, a microchip was created.
A/N: I wrote this in like 5 minutes but my Rain dongsaeng thought that I should post it up here, so here we go. x] No name for this, no explanation for this. It just is & exists, so please do enjoy it. xD
- - - - -
In an attempt to make the world a more truthful place, the ‘World Improvement Union’ decided to create a tiny microchip that would stop people from saying untruthful things by muting their voices the moment they were starting to tell lies.
At first they made only a few people get it implanted to test it for possible side-effects, but when everything appeared to work normally, the chip was soon sold all over the world and became obligatory. After only a few months, they found the chip did hold a problem, however, because everywhere in the world people found themselves unable to tell their significant others that they loved them. Whenever they tried, there would be only silence.
Investigation of the chip brought forth no bad results in the mechanic of the device, however, and scientists were now faced with a gigantic riddle as to why the people were unable to express their feelings in words. Everyone was desperate, there were protest actions against the chip and people demanded to have it taken out of them.
But somewhere in the world, there was a house where two people had remained inside, sitting on the couch together, huddled close, with their arms around each other, enjoying each other’s presence. The deaf boy and the mute girl needed no words to know what was truth and what wasn’t.
[FIC] The seasons of life
Title: The seasons of life
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1.896
Summary: Their life passed like the four seasons, but one thing never changed.
A/N: A story I wrote with quite some difficulties, but that I'm forever glad to have finished. Love it lotses. It's cheesy. Be warned. x]
- - - - -
For years they had been together, spending every day in the presence of the other. They would throw parties for every birthday, bake cake or cookies at every possibility, play together in the snow every winter, go swimming in the tiny swimming pool every summer, .. They were inseparable friends, at the other’s side at all times.
But suddenly, it was all gone.
When middle school started, he moved to a different place with his parents. She didn’t hear, see or talk to him anymore from that day on. Over the years, she had found herself forgetting about him, making new memories with new people and finding new friends. By the time she was graduating from high school, he was nothing more than a childhood memory, buried in between the other images of her lost youth.
And then he decided to be part of her life again.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
He came like a spring’s breeze, rustling the newly grown leaves of her life and caressing the carefully blooming flowers. He brought with him the scent of life, of going out and enjoying. He made her remember how it felt to be young and without worries. How it felt to be satisfied, to have someone by your side whom you could count on at all times. All in all, he taught her how to live again.
Just like the spring breeze, he would come and go, but he never really left. He was never far, always ready to brush through her hair or make her feel like she could float again. The way she would whisper to the wind, so she whispered to him, telling him of her biggest fears and worries, and he would always be there to listen, never once unable to support and comfort her. His touch would be her assurance that all was fine and his voice would softly lull her to sleep with its beautiful and soothing tone.
Like the fresh, green grass would part for a breeze, so did her heart open for him. She felt how every day she got attached to him more and more, until it even passed the bond they used to have in the past. Every single one of his touches was like liquid fire running through her veins. Every comforting hug or happy smile was more reassurance of her happiness. He was all she had ever dreamed of and she was all he had ever loved. They were like a match made in heaven.
As time passed, their love grew and pretty soon it was visible for the outside world as well. Their bond became even more powerful after realising how much they needed each other. Soon, they were like Siamese twins, inseparable no matter what happened. In him she had found the vision of youth, in her he had found a memory of who he once was.
Every time he whispered ‘I love you’ it was like a burst of life rushing through her. He was her own personal bomb of happiness, a door to a world that had been her youth. He showed her the life she had stepped out of a long, long time ago. A world where worries didn’t exist and every day was a huge amount of time you could simply play with.
In his arms she found freedom.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
When he proposed to her, he was like the summer sun. His eyes sparkled, his smile warmed her heart and his touch felt like pure love. To her, he was like a piece of shining gold, a diamond carved into the most beautiful sculptures that only she could see. Their love became even more intense, as if infuriated by the rings on their hands. Every moment spent away from him was like hell, but every day she woke up next to him was another one that couldn’t be ruined anymore.
As months of their engagement passed, the summer sun got hidden behind the rainy clouds of shocked fans. The moment their engagement became public, the reactions were humongous. People who opposed against their wedding, their love, were giving them a hard time. She even got a few dead threats in her mailbox from anonymous people. But just like any other storm would pass, so did the hatred and the threats. People started to accept what was obviously a very strong love, and life turned for the better again.
On their actual wedding day, the summer sun turned pale and cold compared to how much he shone and how much he warmed her heart. He was like a beacon of flaming love, holding inside of him everything she ever longed for. He opened a door to a new light, to a world she had lived in for ages, but had never really seen with her eyes opened wide, the way he made her see it.
As they grew up, so did the fans. The screaming and squealing fifteen to twenty year old girls became happily cheering young women. The hopeless teenage dreams they carried were replaced by a remaining loyalty to the men on the stage. Boyfriends and even fiancés took the place of ‘love of their life’ as they realised in their hearts that some things would never be. It was refreshing not to be haunted by reporters at all times.
Refreshing and energising. Again their love prospered and never did she know a moment of boredom or getting sick of him. Everything he did was still just as mesmerising as it had been before. She knew every part of him like she knew herself, but he still never failed to surprise her. His embrace was like her haven of safety. His smell was the smell of familiarity, of being free. His eyes carried the look of love, of understanding. His touch gave her the feeling of belonging, of coming home.
His kisses tasted like forever.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
When their child was born, it was like an unexpected warm day in the midst of all the falling autumn leaves. Even though the both of them were getting older, they were still alive and very much enjoying it. The baby, a cute little girl they named Youn Seul, was a beam of happiness in the busy course of their lives. They had to adjust both their busy schedules to be able to take care of her, but managed to make it all work out fine. Yeon Seul also brought them so much smiles and laughter that the lost time was completely forgotten about.
As years passed and their daughter grew, so did they. The last childish thoughts and acts were pushed away to the back of their minds as they focused completely on being good parents and making a living. Soon, however, that turned out to be more hard work than they had expected and it caused them to feel annoyed and stressed. Those negative feelings only added up to the pressure and finally resulted into their first, and last, major fight. It was like someone shook the tree of their life and made the last few living leaves fall down as well.
But even though the tree was now cleared of its leaves, it still stood strong and the dispute was easily solved. Like heavy wind and rain would only make a healthy tree sway a little without really breaking, so did their love return afterwards in all its intensity. Despite the still busy schedules, the sometimes very loud and annoying youngster Yeon Seul and the growing realisation of how short life really was, she found herself smiling again every morning she woke up and saw him next to her.
The feeling of fire was back every time his hands brushed over her skin. She again craved for the feeling of being embraced by his arms, of hiding away against his chest, of feeling protected by him. Again, he was the one she would go to whenever anything bothered her and he put just as much trust in her, letting her be the only one to ever know about his fears or worries. They became closer once again because of the shared pressure of work.
And even though time passed and Yeon Seul grew up to be a wonderful young woman. Even when their daughter got children herself, their love stayed the same. Every time she looked at him, no matter how much time had passed, she would always remember a long time ago when they threw parties for every birthday, baked cake or cookies at every possibility, played together in the snow every winter, went swimming in the tiny swimming pool every summer, ..
His eyes reminded her of the forgotten.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
The last time she saw him, he was like a winter landscape. Cold, white, but still so beautiful that her breath got caught upon looking at him. He was like a statue, his body unmoving but strong. He still looked like nothing would ever be able to break him, like nothing would ever be able to beat him. Yet the wrinkled hand she held in hers did not send liquid fire running through her veins anymore, nor did his soothing voice whisper the sweetest words into her ears.
But there still was love. And memories. She loved the memories she had. Every time her grandchildren would visit her, they would ask about their grandfather. So she would tell them. Tell them about what kind of great person their grandfather had been, how he had always given his all with everything he did. She told them what a nice husband and father he had been and how grateful she was to have known him from their youth onwards.
Every weekend she would visit him and tell him her troubles and worries. He was always there to listen. Every time again, she would put new flowers in the vase and clear the blossoms, the dust the leaves or the snow from his stone. She would sit on the bench near to him and just look at the people visiting their loved ones. She would smile every time it was proved again that love could influence so many people in so many different ways and yet still always make the same look happen in their eyes.
When it became later in the evening, she would tell him about what she had seen throughout the day. Even though he never answered, she knew he was always listening. Always close to her and enjoying everything she told him. When getting up became nearly impossible sometimes with her hurting back, she knew he was there to support her and give her strength. When things seemed impossible, he would come and change her mind, so that she would go on with a smile again.
No matter what happened, no matter how much she struggled with her aging body, her spirit remained young. No matter how often people asked her about him or reminded her of his death, she kept on smiling. For in the spring breeze she felt the touch of his hands, in the summer sun she felt the warmth of his love, in the autumn leaves she saw the memories of their youth and in the winter snow she found the beauty of his soul.
The seasons kept him alive for her.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1.896
Summary: Their life passed like the four seasons, but one thing never changed.
A/N: A story I wrote with quite some difficulties, but that I'm forever glad to have finished. Love it lotses. It's cheesy. Be warned. x]
- - - - -
For years they had been together, spending every day in the presence of the other. They would throw parties for every birthday, bake cake or cookies at every possibility, play together in the snow every winter, go swimming in the tiny swimming pool every summer, .. They were inseparable friends, at the other’s side at all times.
But suddenly, it was all gone.
When middle school started, he moved to a different place with his parents. She didn’t hear, see or talk to him anymore from that day on. Over the years, she had found herself forgetting about him, making new memories with new people and finding new friends. By the time she was graduating from high school, he was nothing more than a childhood memory, buried in between the other images of her lost youth.
And then he decided to be part of her life again.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
He came like a spring’s breeze, rustling the newly grown leaves of her life and caressing the carefully blooming flowers. He brought with him the scent of life, of going out and enjoying. He made her remember how it felt to be young and without worries. How it felt to be satisfied, to have someone by your side whom you could count on at all times. All in all, he taught her how to live again.
Just like the spring breeze, he would come and go, but he never really left. He was never far, always ready to brush through her hair or make her feel like she could float again. The way she would whisper to the wind, so she whispered to him, telling him of her biggest fears and worries, and he would always be there to listen, never once unable to support and comfort her. His touch would be her assurance that all was fine and his voice would softly lull her to sleep with its beautiful and soothing tone.
Like the fresh, green grass would part for a breeze, so did her heart open for him. She felt how every day she got attached to him more and more, until it even passed the bond they used to have in the past. Every single one of his touches was like liquid fire running through her veins. Every comforting hug or happy smile was more reassurance of her happiness. He was all she had ever dreamed of and she was all he had ever loved. They were like a match made in heaven.
As time passed, their love grew and pretty soon it was visible for the outside world as well. Their bond became even more powerful after realising how much they needed each other. Soon, they were like Siamese twins, inseparable no matter what happened. In him she had found the vision of youth, in her he had found a memory of who he once was.
Every time he whispered ‘I love you’ it was like a burst of life rushing through her. He was her own personal bomb of happiness, a door to a world that had been her youth. He showed her the life she had stepped out of a long, long time ago. A world where worries didn’t exist and every day was a huge amount of time you could simply play with.
In his arms she found freedom.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
When he proposed to her, he was like the summer sun. His eyes sparkled, his smile warmed her heart and his touch felt like pure love. To her, he was like a piece of shining gold, a diamond carved into the most beautiful sculptures that only she could see. Their love became even more intense, as if infuriated by the rings on their hands. Every moment spent away from him was like hell, but every day she woke up next to him was another one that couldn’t be ruined anymore.
As months of their engagement passed, the summer sun got hidden behind the rainy clouds of shocked fans. The moment their engagement became public, the reactions were humongous. People who opposed against their wedding, their love, were giving them a hard time. She even got a few dead threats in her mailbox from anonymous people. But just like any other storm would pass, so did the hatred and the threats. People started to accept what was obviously a very strong love, and life turned for the better again.
On their actual wedding day, the summer sun turned pale and cold compared to how much he shone and how much he warmed her heart. He was like a beacon of flaming love, holding inside of him everything she ever longed for. He opened a door to a new light, to a world she had lived in for ages, but had never really seen with her eyes opened wide, the way he made her see it.
As they grew up, so did the fans. The screaming and squealing fifteen to twenty year old girls became happily cheering young women. The hopeless teenage dreams they carried were replaced by a remaining loyalty to the men on the stage. Boyfriends and even fiancés took the place of ‘love of their life’ as they realised in their hearts that some things would never be. It was refreshing not to be haunted by reporters at all times.
Refreshing and energising. Again their love prospered and never did she know a moment of boredom or getting sick of him. Everything he did was still just as mesmerising as it had been before. She knew every part of him like she knew herself, but he still never failed to surprise her. His embrace was like her haven of safety. His smell was the smell of familiarity, of being free. His eyes carried the look of love, of understanding. His touch gave her the feeling of belonging, of coming home.
His kisses tasted like forever.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
When their child was born, it was like an unexpected warm day in the midst of all the falling autumn leaves. Even though the both of them were getting older, they were still alive and very much enjoying it. The baby, a cute little girl they named Youn Seul, was a beam of happiness in the busy course of their lives. They had to adjust both their busy schedules to be able to take care of her, but managed to make it all work out fine. Yeon Seul also brought them so much smiles and laughter that the lost time was completely forgotten about.
As years passed and their daughter grew, so did they. The last childish thoughts and acts were pushed away to the back of their minds as they focused completely on being good parents and making a living. Soon, however, that turned out to be more hard work than they had expected and it caused them to feel annoyed and stressed. Those negative feelings only added up to the pressure and finally resulted into their first, and last, major fight. It was like someone shook the tree of their life and made the last few living leaves fall down as well.
But even though the tree was now cleared of its leaves, it still stood strong and the dispute was easily solved. Like heavy wind and rain would only make a healthy tree sway a little without really breaking, so did their love return afterwards in all its intensity. Despite the still busy schedules, the sometimes very loud and annoying youngster Yeon Seul and the growing realisation of how short life really was, she found herself smiling again every morning she woke up and saw him next to her.
The feeling of fire was back every time his hands brushed over her skin. She again craved for the feeling of being embraced by his arms, of hiding away against his chest, of feeling protected by him. Again, he was the one she would go to whenever anything bothered her and he put just as much trust in her, letting her be the only one to ever know about his fears or worries. They became closer once again because of the shared pressure of work.
And even though time passed and Yeon Seul grew up to be a wonderful young woman. Even when their daughter got children herself, their love stayed the same. Every time she looked at him, no matter how much time had passed, she would always remember a long time ago when they threw parties for every birthday, baked cake or cookies at every possibility, played together in the snow every winter, went swimming in the tiny swimming pool every summer, ..
His eyes reminded her of the forgotten.
˙·٠•●♥-♥●•٠·˙
The last time she saw him, he was like a winter landscape. Cold, white, but still so beautiful that her breath got caught upon looking at him. He was like a statue, his body unmoving but strong. He still looked like nothing would ever be able to break him, like nothing would ever be able to beat him. Yet the wrinkled hand she held in hers did not send liquid fire running through her veins anymore, nor did his soothing voice whisper the sweetest words into her ears.
But there still was love. And memories. She loved the memories she had. Every time her grandchildren would visit her, they would ask about their grandfather. So she would tell them. Tell them about what kind of great person their grandfather had been, how he had always given his all with everything he did. She told them what a nice husband and father he had been and how grateful she was to have known him from their youth onwards.
Every weekend she would visit him and tell him her troubles and worries. He was always there to listen. Every time again, she would put new flowers in the vase and clear the blossoms, the dust the leaves or the snow from his stone. She would sit on the bench near to him and just look at the people visiting their loved ones. She would smile every time it was proved again that love could influence so many people in so many different ways and yet still always make the same look happen in their eyes.
When it became later in the evening, she would tell him about what she had seen throughout the day. Even though he never answered, she knew he was always listening. Always close to her and enjoying everything she told him. When getting up became nearly impossible sometimes with her hurting back, she knew he was there to support her and give her strength. When things seemed impossible, he would come and change her mind, so that she would go on with a smile again.
No matter what happened, no matter how much she struggled with her aging body, her spirit remained young. No matter how often people asked her about him or reminded her of his death, she kept on smiling. For in the spring breeze she felt the touch of his hands, in the summer sun she felt the warmth of his love, in the autumn leaves she saw the memories of their youth and in the winter snow she found the beauty of his soul.
The seasons kept him alive for her.
[FIC] Farewell is Coming
Title: Farewell is Coming
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 891
Summary: She's right in front of him, but out of reach.
A/N: Written in a hunch after getting obsessed over the 8eight - Farewell is Coming MV. Possibly it's better to watch it before reading this so that you understand a little of the events. The lines in between are the words the man & woman exchange in the beginning, no other part of the song is involved. (:
- - - - -
I love you
He stares. Stares at the ever-changing colours on his television screen. Stares at the images that flash by. He stares without seeing, sees without knowing, knows without thinking, thinks without wanting to. His eyes are fixed on eternity and his breathing is slow, as he is frozen in time. His body is trying to move, but nothing works.
I love you
She smiles. Smiles the sweetest smile one would ever see in this world. Smiles the cutest dimple-cheeked eye-smile that was loved by so many. She smiles before approaching him, approaches him before caressing his cheek, caresses his cheek before kissing his forehead, kisses his forehead before moving away again. Her eyes scan his face and her breathing evens out, as she relaxes her body. She touches his hand, but he doesn’t feel it.
Don’t leave
He wants to look at her, but fears that when he does, she’ll disappear, so he keeps staring into oblivion. There is a faint feeling of regret in him as he wants to keep her close to him, but is unable to hold her tight. He wants to hug her, but can’t because then she’ll have to go again and the last thing he wants is for her to go away.
I’m sorry
She takes his hand in hers, softly stroking over the back with her fingers. She wishes that there is a way to stay with him, to never have to leave him again. She wants to remain by his side and make him feel better, yet she now she can’t. Even though she wants to reassure him that everything is alright and that she’ll stay with him forever, she cannot, because she knows it would be nothing but lies.
Without you I’m..
He feels his breath getting caught in his throat as the realisation hits him once again. She will have to go, leave him behind. She will not be with him forever. There is no forever in his story. He knows, yet he refuses to accept that fact. He tries to fight it off, tries to push it away from him. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen when she’s gone. He doesn’t want to think about what he’ll have to do when he’s left behind alone.
Even without me you’re..
She smiles again and puts a hand on his shoulder. He remains unmoving in his chair, yet his breathing hitches. Her eyes scan his face and she softly squeezes his shoulder, showing him that she believes in him. She wants to make sure that he knows that, even though she has to leave soon, she will still somehow always be with him.
..less than nothing
In a flash he knows that, when she goes, there will be no more life for him. He will not exist anymore. The ‘him’ that exists with her by his side will disappear together with her and there will only be an empty shell left. He doesn’t want that to happen. He doesn’t want to be left alone, to be lonely and worthless, but he knows that without her, that is exactly what he would be.
..fine
She smiles again as she watches his hands being clenched into fists and his eyes desperately staying focused on the wall. She lets her fingers brush his cheek, savouring the feeling of his soft, warm skin beneath her own fingers. She smiles at the reflection of herself in his eyes and lets her hand slide from his shoulder to his upper arm, downwards until she reaches his hand. When she touches it, she squeezes it softly, reassuring him that everything will be fine.
I love you
He stares. Stares at the memories that remain as vivid images in his head. Stares at the last reminders of what was and what will never be again. He stares as he feels, feels as he hurts, hurts as he cares, cares as he remembers. His memories drown him and his breathing becomes heavier as all knowing ceases. All he remembers is that he loves her.
I love you
She smiles. Smiles a knowing smile that tells so many different excuses. Smiles a tearful smile that only shows but a little spark of happiness anymore. She smiles as she cries, cries as she sees, sees as she wishes, wishes as she turns. Her feeling of safety slowly leaves her and she lets go of his hand as the world shimmers around her. All she thinks about is that she loves him.
Please don’t do this to me
When he realises she’s turning away, he can’t stop himself any longer and fixes his eyes on her image. Her beautiful smile, her lively eyes, the cute dimples in her cheeks,.. But as his eyes glide over the surroundings to focus on her, she already starts fading away, and the moment he locks eyes with her, she disappears.
And he knows things will never be normal again. It will never be the right way again. She will never be with him again. As he realises that, the tears break through the invisible barrier and they roll over his cheeks, leaving wet tracks on his face. And through the blurry haze that is his mind, one clear thought fights its way to the surface..
How could you ever leave from my side?
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 891
Summary: She's right in front of him, but out of reach.
A/N: Written in a hunch after getting obsessed over the 8eight - Farewell is Coming MV. Possibly it's better to watch it before reading this so that you understand a little of the events. The lines in between are the words the man & woman exchange in the beginning, no other part of the song is involved. (:
- - - - -
I love you
He stares. Stares at the ever-changing colours on his television screen. Stares at the images that flash by. He stares without seeing, sees without knowing, knows without thinking, thinks without wanting to. His eyes are fixed on eternity and his breathing is slow, as he is frozen in time. His body is trying to move, but nothing works.
I love you
She smiles. Smiles the sweetest smile one would ever see in this world. Smiles the cutest dimple-cheeked eye-smile that was loved by so many. She smiles before approaching him, approaches him before caressing his cheek, caresses his cheek before kissing his forehead, kisses his forehead before moving away again. Her eyes scan his face and her breathing evens out, as she relaxes her body. She touches his hand, but he doesn’t feel it.
Don’t leave
He wants to look at her, but fears that when he does, she’ll disappear, so he keeps staring into oblivion. There is a faint feeling of regret in him as he wants to keep her close to him, but is unable to hold her tight. He wants to hug her, but can’t because then she’ll have to go again and the last thing he wants is for her to go away.
I’m sorry
She takes his hand in hers, softly stroking over the back with her fingers. She wishes that there is a way to stay with him, to never have to leave him again. She wants to remain by his side and make him feel better, yet she now she can’t. Even though she wants to reassure him that everything is alright and that she’ll stay with him forever, she cannot, because she knows it would be nothing but lies.
Without you I’m..
He feels his breath getting caught in his throat as the realisation hits him once again. She will have to go, leave him behind. She will not be with him forever. There is no forever in his story. He knows, yet he refuses to accept that fact. He tries to fight it off, tries to push it away from him. He doesn’t want to think about what will happen when she’s gone. He doesn’t want to think about what he’ll have to do when he’s left behind alone.
Even without me you’re..
She smiles again and puts a hand on his shoulder. He remains unmoving in his chair, yet his breathing hitches. Her eyes scan his face and she softly squeezes his shoulder, showing him that she believes in him. She wants to make sure that he knows that, even though she has to leave soon, she will still somehow always be with him.
..less than nothing
In a flash he knows that, when she goes, there will be no more life for him. He will not exist anymore. The ‘him’ that exists with her by his side will disappear together with her and there will only be an empty shell left. He doesn’t want that to happen. He doesn’t want to be left alone, to be lonely and worthless, but he knows that without her, that is exactly what he would be.
..fine
She smiles again as she watches his hands being clenched into fists and his eyes desperately staying focused on the wall. She lets her fingers brush his cheek, savouring the feeling of his soft, warm skin beneath her own fingers. She smiles at the reflection of herself in his eyes and lets her hand slide from his shoulder to his upper arm, downwards until she reaches his hand. When she touches it, she squeezes it softly, reassuring him that everything will be fine.
I love you
He stares. Stares at the memories that remain as vivid images in his head. Stares at the last reminders of what was and what will never be again. He stares as he feels, feels as he hurts, hurts as he cares, cares as he remembers. His memories drown him and his breathing becomes heavier as all knowing ceases. All he remembers is that he loves her.
I love you
She smiles. Smiles a knowing smile that tells so many different excuses. Smiles a tearful smile that only shows but a little spark of happiness anymore. She smiles as she cries, cries as she sees, sees as she wishes, wishes as she turns. Her feeling of safety slowly leaves her and she lets go of his hand as the world shimmers around her. All she thinks about is that she loves him.
Please don’t do this to me
When he realises she’s turning away, he can’t stop himself any longer and fixes his eyes on her image. Her beautiful smile, her lively eyes, the cute dimples in her cheeks,.. But as his eyes glide over the surroundings to focus on her, she already starts fading away, and the moment he locks eyes with her, she disappears.
And he knows things will never be normal again. It will never be the right way again. She will never be with him again. As he realises that, the tears break through the invisible barrier and they roll over his cheeks, leaving wet tracks on his face. And through the blurry haze that is his mind, one clear thought fights its way to the surface..
How could you ever leave from my side?
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
[FIC] Yours Truly
Title: Yours Truly
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.568
Summary: A letter written but never sent
A/N: A shot that may have started out with defined characters and a vague idea but ended up being so many people mashed together that I just never mentioned any names and left it at that.
- - - - -
Hey you..
I find that I have something to tell you, but I cannot tell you in person, so I’m just writing it down, because I need to get it off my mind somehow. Even if you’ll probably never read this, I will at least have written it down and will not keep living with all these thoughts and memories. To this paper I will give my deepest feelings, because I have nowhere else to put them.
It started so many years ago, five or maybe six already by now.. When we sat next to each other on that bench, staring at our new classmates, wondering what exactly they found so interesting about soccer, but not talking to each other.
Our teacher came to sit with us that day, smiling as she saw how we kept the polite distance strangers always keep, even though we were both doing exactly the same; watching in silence.
She looked at us for a moment and then asked us if we knew each other. I shook my head, you mumbled a short ‘no.’ We didn’t even turn to look at each other as we replied. Our teacher smiled again, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Who knows.” she then told us. “Maybe you’ll become best friends later on.” I turned to look at you, right as you looked at me and we both laughed at the statement, not believing a word of it.
Yet our teacher had been right. I spent exactly four months sitting rather lonely in my seat at the door of the classroom, before you decided one day that since I sat alone and you sat alone, we could just as well sit together and give other friends the chance to sit next to each other as well instead of having to split up because we both always occupied the second seat of the two free tables.
We spent another month sitting next to each other in silence, before you decided that having some small talk probably wouldn’t hurt us. It was at that moment when you nudged my shoulder and wrote the very interesting and informative message of ‘Don’t you agree that his face looks like a Halloween pumpkin?’ on my geography papers that our friendship started.
We have been taking the same classes every year since we’re doing the same study, both claiming to only study Economics because all the other options suck even more. We even doubled the same year because we both happily failed for 7 out of 15 of our classes, which coincidentally weren’t the same classes, so no one connected the lack of good grades on my report card that year to the overdose of time I had started spending with you.
You yourself had always told me, and everyone else willing or unwilling to listen, that you never intended on being the manager of a company, because your real passion was dance. Sadly enough your family didn’t have the money to let you attend one of the better dance schools in the big city, so that’s why you ended up in the same class as me, spending your days pretending to care about Economics, but using all your spare time to dance.
Every day I see you give the best of yourself in that practice room. You always dance with a passion and a talent that went way beyond my understanding. I didn’t know how you could be so caught up in something, completely losing your attention for anything else the moment the music starts playing and you start moving your limbs to the right beat.
Yet here we are; nearing the end of our last year in high school, almost seven years after the start of our friendship, and I do understand now how one can be so caught up in something that nothing else seems important anymore. I do understand how you can lose attention for everything else the moment this something comes in view. Only with me it is not something, but someone.
It started the first time I saw you dance, in the third grade. I had heard you talk about dancing nonstop from the start, but you never asked me to join you for your practice..until that day. I needed only one second to see your passion; your love for the dance, your feel for the moves, the way everything just seemed to work out as you danced.. There were no boundaries, no questions, it was just you and the music, flowing together as if you were made to do so..and that’s when I started seeing your beauty.
You are not the kind of beauty that shows in prince-like features and a rock-hard body full of muscles. Your beauty lies not in your dazzling smile or your enchanting eyes. Sure, your outside, your look, is not ugly, but your inside, your personality, is so much more than just nice. How a single unexpected event can brighten up your whole day, or how you always seem to shine the moment you enjoy something, or how you can walk up to someone you don’t know at all and give them a compliment, just because you know they deserve it.
I discovered that for the first time when you danced and from then on I saw it in everything you did. Your kindness, your forgiveness, the way you treated me as if I was the most important person on this planet. Whenever we did things together, you would open doors for me, carry my heavy bag, listen to my nagging,.. It was always all about me, never about you. I felt special being treated in such a way, and I guess that’s why I sneakily ignored the fact that you did the same to everyone else.
Sometimes my heart questioned me what I was doing to it and at such times, I found myself at a loss for explanations. Because what was I doing? What did I intend to reach by pretending you loved me? Why did I live in this imaginary world where you loved me and I loved you and we were happy together through thick and thin? Where did I find enough proof to keep believing it myself?
I admit that it was probably easy for me to think like that, because we were such very good friends. Even though we both made other friends over the years, you’d still come to me for everything and I’d still help you with everything. When you participated in your first real dance competition, I was the first one you asked to come watch and I accepted gladly, pretending not to see how you then moved on to your other friends to ask them as well, just so I could feel special. When you had your first crush, I was the one you talked to about it and I listened willingly, pretending the words of love were said to me instead.
No one is perfect, of course, and neither are you. There were times when I felt like stuffing you in the toilet and flushing a few times, like the day you admitted on having lost your part of our friendship bangles, but then you’d come up to me the next day, all smiles and laughs, and you’d apologise with those puppy eyes of yours and tell me that you would make it up to me and I would always believe you, because you always did. I could never stay angry long, for whatever it was you did, you’d have a perfect apology ready after two days at most.
I nurtured my love for you with your friendly gestures and gazes that I pretended were your shows of love, and I spun myself into the imaginary world I had created over the years where you were deeply in love with me as well.. But now, now that it’s the end of our high school years after which you will leave for a completely different city to attend one of the biggest dance schools in our country and I will go on to continue my studies to become a lawyer, now I’ve come to a point where I can walk out of this fantasy world of mine and get in touch with reality again.
So here I am, writing this all out to put an end to this chapter in the book of my life. I am happy to have known you for all these years and I hope that we will keep in contact, even though we will almost be at opposite sides of the country after this school year. I have sincerely loved you and still do; and even though it was only my imagination that made you love me back, you have made me very happy throughout these years. I hope you’ll find someone you can love for real and I know for sure that that person will be one of the happiest people in the world.
This is the end of my thoughts, my feelings. Here I put down my pen and fold this letter to hide it away, so that one day I may pick it up again, read this and think about you whom I loved more than my poor heart could take at times, with a smile on my face and the hope that you found happiness in life.
Yours truly,
Me
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.568
Summary: A letter written but never sent
A/N: A shot that may have started out with defined characters and a vague idea but ended up being so many people mashed together that I just never mentioned any names and left it at that.
- - - - -
Hey you..
I find that I have something to tell you, but I cannot tell you in person, so I’m just writing it down, because I need to get it off my mind somehow. Even if you’ll probably never read this, I will at least have written it down and will not keep living with all these thoughts and memories. To this paper I will give my deepest feelings, because I have nowhere else to put them.
It started so many years ago, five or maybe six already by now.. When we sat next to each other on that bench, staring at our new classmates, wondering what exactly they found so interesting about soccer, but not talking to each other.
Our teacher came to sit with us that day, smiling as she saw how we kept the polite distance strangers always keep, even though we were both doing exactly the same; watching in silence.
She looked at us for a moment and then asked us if we knew each other. I shook my head, you mumbled a short ‘no.’ We didn’t even turn to look at each other as we replied. Our teacher smiled again, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Who knows.” she then told us. “Maybe you’ll become best friends later on.” I turned to look at you, right as you looked at me and we both laughed at the statement, not believing a word of it.
Yet our teacher had been right. I spent exactly four months sitting rather lonely in my seat at the door of the classroom, before you decided one day that since I sat alone and you sat alone, we could just as well sit together and give other friends the chance to sit next to each other as well instead of having to split up because we both always occupied the second seat of the two free tables.
We spent another month sitting next to each other in silence, before you decided that having some small talk probably wouldn’t hurt us. It was at that moment when you nudged my shoulder and wrote the very interesting and informative message of ‘Don’t you agree that his face looks like a Halloween pumpkin?’ on my geography papers that our friendship started.
We have been taking the same classes every year since we’re doing the same study, both claiming to only study Economics because all the other options suck even more. We even doubled the same year because we both happily failed for 7 out of 15 of our classes, which coincidentally weren’t the same classes, so no one connected the lack of good grades on my report card that year to the overdose of time I had started spending with you.
You yourself had always told me, and everyone else willing or unwilling to listen, that you never intended on being the manager of a company, because your real passion was dance. Sadly enough your family didn’t have the money to let you attend one of the better dance schools in the big city, so that’s why you ended up in the same class as me, spending your days pretending to care about Economics, but using all your spare time to dance.
Every day I see you give the best of yourself in that practice room. You always dance with a passion and a talent that went way beyond my understanding. I didn’t know how you could be so caught up in something, completely losing your attention for anything else the moment the music starts playing and you start moving your limbs to the right beat.
Yet here we are; nearing the end of our last year in high school, almost seven years after the start of our friendship, and I do understand now how one can be so caught up in something that nothing else seems important anymore. I do understand how you can lose attention for everything else the moment this something comes in view. Only with me it is not something, but someone.
It started the first time I saw you dance, in the third grade. I had heard you talk about dancing nonstop from the start, but you never asked me to join you for your practice..until that day. I needed only one second to see your passion; your love for the dance, your feel for the moves, the way everything just seemed to work out as you danced.. There were no boundaries, no questions, it was just you and the music, flowing together as if you were made to do so..and that’s when I started seeing your beauty.
You are not the kind of beauty that shows in prince-like features and a rock-hard body full of muscles. Your beauty lies not in your dazzling smile or your enchanting eyes. Sure, your outside, your look, is not ugly, but your inside, your personality, is so much more than just nice. How a single unexpected event can brighten up your whole day, or how you always seem to shine the moment you enjoy something, or how you can walk up to someone you don’t know at all and give them a compliment, just because you know they deserve it.
I discovered that for the first time when you danced and from then on I saw it in everything you did. Your kindness, your forgiveness, the way you treated me as if I was the most important person on this planet. Whenever we did things together, you would open doors for me, carry my heavy bag, listen to my nagging,.. It was always all about me, never about you. I felt special being treated in such a way, and I guess that’s why I sneakily ignored the fact that you did the same to everyone else.
Sometimes my heart questioned me what I was doing to it and at such times, I found myself at a loss for explanations. Because what was I doing? What did I intend to reach by pretending you loved me? Why did I live in this imaginary world where you loved me and I loved you and we were happy together through thick and thin? Where did I find enough proof to keep believing it myself?
I admit that it was probably easy for me to think like that, because we were such very good friends. Even though we both made other friends over the years, you’d still come to me for everything and I’d still help you with everything. When you participated in your first real dance competition, I was the first one you asked to come watch and I accepted gladly, pretending not to see how you then moved on to your other friends to ask them as well, just so I could feel special. When you had your first crush, I was the one you talked to about it and I listened willingly, pretending the words of love were said to me instead.
No one is perfect, of course, and neither are you. There were times when I felt like stuffing you in the toilet and flushing a few times, like the day you admitted on having lost your part of our friendship bangles, but then you’d come up to me the next day, all smiles and laughs, and you’d apologise with those puppy eyes of yours and tell me that you would make it up to me and I would always believe you, because you always did. I could never stay angry long, for whatever it was you did, you’d have a perfect apology ready after two days at most.
I nurtured my love for you with your friendly gestures and gazes that I pretended were your shows of love, and I spun myself into the imaginary world I had created over the years where you were deeply in love with me as well.. But now, now that it’s the end of our high school years after which you will leave for a completely different city to attend one of the biggest dance schools in our country and I will go on to continue my studies to become a lawyer, now I’ve come to a point where I can walk out of this fantasy world of mine and get in touch with reality again.
So here I am, writing this all out to put an end to this chapter in the book of my life. I am happy to have known you for all these years and I hope that we will keep in contact, even though we will almost be at opposite sides of the country after this school year. I have sincerely loved you and still do; and even though it was only my imagination that made you love me back, you have made me very happy throughout these years. I hope you’ll find someone you can love for real and I know for sure that that person will be one of the happiest people in the world.
This is the end of my thoughts, my feelings. Here I put down my pen and fold this letter to hide it away, so that one day I may pick it up again, read this and think about you whom I loved more than my poor heart could take at times, with a smile on my face and the hope that you found happiness in life.
Yours truly,
Me
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