the face in my head; jaejoong/yoochun, g
(and the writer of my memories)
jaejoong/yoochun; g, 1129W
for spinspiderspin
AN: written for meggy babe~ :)))) and because jaejoong and yoochun deserves some hearts. actually um. many many hearts. so, i'm not sure if, well. this could stand alone. however, there might be more. if only i'm not lazy or something. idek. i would like to write their days afterward, some with yoochun's narrative and then episodes of their love or something. i'm not even sure. um until then enjoy, ily.
(semantic memories) • memories of general knowledge, including facts, rules, concepts, and propositions.
(episodic memories) • memories of personally experienced events and the contexts in which they occurred.
(short-term memory (STM)) • a limited-capacity memory system involved in the retention of information for brief periods; it is also used to hold information retrieved from long-term memory for temporary use.
(long-term memory (LTM)) • the memory system involved in the long-term storage of information.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
i love yoochun park.
i love yoochun park.
i love yoochun park.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is …
(yoochun’s narrative)
i was twenty-two and alone when i first met him, jaejoong kim on september first at spin’s café. it was a cold morning when he walked in, a new face but carried on him such a warm smile. he had blonde hair then, huddled in his black jacket and gray scarf. he wore boots and tight fitted jeans that day. i burnt my lips when he caught sight of my stare and stood there for two whole minutes. i remembered. i remembered his smiles, his chuckles, the way his eyes sparkled when he took a sip of his coffee and how his lips pouted every time his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. i refused to look away and perhaps even if i did, my eyes would somehow shift back to him until i could no longer deny myself of this fixation.
and so that day, i sat there for three hours straight and watched him. i watched him write, watched him check his watch every two minutes and continued to write. one, two, three, and ninety-ninety times of written words i don’t know of before he got up and walked away.
and i wanted to follow him. but he wasn’t alone. i went home with an even emptier heart that day.
i met him again for the second time. it was the first week of december when he walked into spin’s café. he changed his hair color to a darker shade of brown. he still plastered on the same smile but i knew differently, the way his eyelids lowered down every so often and how he gnawed his lips with his teeth when he lost track of his time. i wanted to approach him, to give him my heart before i regret. i burnt my tongue and drank more coffee than usual that day, seven cups to be exact when someone else walked over to him before i even had the chance to do so. i remembered that stranger, the same face that stood beside jaejoong kim on that cold morning of september first.
i don’t like him.
but i should thank him for calling out his name. jaejoong kim, my beautiful jaejoong kim.
i missed my chance. he walked away again for the second time. three hours later, i found myself sitting on the park’s bench across the street from my home and still thinking of him. it was then that i saw him, sitting on the swing like a lost child and with him, still carrying the same black notebook and pencil that i first saw on that very cold morning of september first.
and i walked over to him with a nervous smile and beating of hearts.
i sat down on the swing next to him and repeated a light whisper of words that i wanted to say to him before i heaved out a loud sigh. and after one minute of rehearsal, i turned to him only to have my words get caught in my throat when i met his brown orbs. he was even more beautiful up close, my jaejoong kim.
that day, jaejoong kim captured my soul and i no longer have any more hearts to give.
“you,” jaejoong furrowed his eyebrows and frantically opened his notebook, flipping pages after pages until he found what he was looking for.
september first.
his brown eyes. his brown eyes.
he sits by the window at spin’s café.
he sits by the window at spin’s café.
he looks lonely.
he looks lonely.
“um. hi,” yoochun smiled and shuffled his feet. “i’m park yoochun.”
jaejoong mirrored his smile, lost in the comfort of his eyes browneyesbrowneyes and slowly frowned when he lost track of time. “who are you?”
yoochun escaped a nervous chuckle and played with the bottom hem of his shirt. “i’m park yoochun.” he responded and felt the need to repeat. “park yoochun, park yoochun, i’m park yoochun.”
jaejoong smiled and tilted his head slightly to the side. “hello park yoochun. i am. i am…” jaejoong frowned and quickly turned the pages to his notebook.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
“my name is jaejoong kim,” jaejoong smiled.
“hi jaejoong. it’s really nice to meet you.” yoochun watched as jaejoong’s bright face turned into a look of confusion and questioned his concerns. “are you alright? what’s wrong?”
jaejoong bit the insides of his cheeks. “who are you?”
i remembered our conversation. he asked the same question whoareyou? over and over again, always looking through his notebook and every so often, looking at me with uncertainty. he looked at me as if it was the first time he ever met me. and i found out with a smile, his days always ended with a hello.
i just never knew that his hellos were my goodbyes.
i met him again three weeks later on december twenty-first at spin’s café. ever since that day on the swings, i was unable to forget about him. his smiles and his face were my only thoughts. i approached him and said my hello to which he responded back with a slight nod of his head.
and still ever the same question whoareyou? before any conversation took place in the hour.
i was disappointed and let down.
but then, i felt the corners of my lips gradually curved upward into a smile when he opened up a new page in his notebook, a new page to be filled with memories of me.
december twenty-first.
brown eyes. his brown eyes.
his name is yoochun park. yoochun park.
his name is yoochun park. yoochun park.
i sat there and watched him write down his memories for every two minutes spent. i wanted him to know that i’d be willing to be his hellos and never his goodbyes.
yoochun park is a nice person.
yoochun park is a nice person.
my name is jaejoong kim and i made a new friend today.
my name is jaejoong kim and i made a new friend today.
yoochun park. i think i like him.
yoochun park. i think i like him.
i wanted to be his memories, to be the memories filled in every page of his book. because i am yoochun park, twenty-two and alone. i lived each day with a camera inside my head always ready for replay and jaejoong-jaejoong kim lived each of his days like it was a new beginning, two minutes to remember and two minutes have already forgotten.
jaejoong/yoochun; g, 1129W
for spinspiderspin
AN: written for meggy babe~ :)))) and because jaejoong and yoochun deserves some hearts. actually um. many many hearts. so, i'm not sure if, well. this could stand alone. however, there might be more. if only i'm not lazy or something. idek. i would like to write their days afterward, some with yoochun's narrative and then episodes of their love or something. i'm not even sure. um until then enjoy, ily.
(semantic memories) • memories of general knowledge, including facts, rules, concepts, and propositions.
(episodic memories) • memories of personally experienced events and the contexts in which they occurred.
(short-term memory (STM)) • a limited-capacity memory system involved in the retention of information for brief periods; it is also used to hold information retrieved from long-term memory for temporary use.
(long-term memory (LTM)) • the memory system involved in the long-term storage of information.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
i love yoochun park.
i love yoochun park.
i love yoochun park.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is …
(yoochun’s narrative)
i was twenty-two and alone when i first met him, jaejoong kim on september first at spin’s café. it was a cold morning when he walked in, a new face but carried on him such a warm smile. he had blonde hair then, huddled in his black jacket and gray scarf. he wore boots and tight fitted jeans that day. i burnt my lips when he caught sight of my stare and stood there for two whole minutes. i remembered. i remembered his smiles, his chuckles, the way his eyes sparkled when he took a sip of his coffee and how his lips pouted every time his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. i refused to look away and perhaps even if i did, my eyes would somehow shift back to him until i could no longer deny myself of this fixation.
and so that day, i sat there for three hours straight and watched him. i watched him write, watched him check his watch every two minutes and continued to write. one, two, three, and ninety-ninety times of written words i don’t know of before he got up and walked away.
and i wanted to follow him. but he wasn’t alone. i went home with an even emptier heart that day.
i met him again for the second time. it was the first week of december when he walked into spin’s café. he changed his hair color to a darker shade of brown. he still plastered on the same smile but i knew differently, the way his eyelids lowered down every so often and how he gnawed his lips with his teeth when he lost track of his time. i wanted to approach him, to give him my heart before i regret. i burnt my tongue and drank more coffee than usual that day, seven cups to be exact when someone else walked over to him before i even had the chance to do so. i remembered that stranger, the same face that stood beside jaejoong kim on that cold morning of september first.
i don’t like him.
but i should thank him for calling out his name. jaejoong kim, my beautiful jaejoong kim.
i missed my chance. he walked away again for the second time. three hours later, i found myself sitting on the park’s bench across the street from my home and still thinking of him. it was then that i saw him, sitting on the swing like a lost child and with him, still carrying the same black notebook and pencil that i first saw on that very cold morning of september first.
and i walked over to him with a nervous smile and beating of hearts.
i sat down on the swing next to him and repeated a light whisper of words that i wanted to say to him before i heaved out a loud sigh. and after one minute of rehearsal, i turned to him only to have my words get caught in my throat when i met his brown orbs. he was even more beautiful up close, my jaejoong kim.
that day, jaejoong kim captured my soul and i no longer have any more hearts to give.
“you,” jaejoong furrowed his eyebrows and frantically opened his notebook, flipping pages after pages until he found what he was looking for.
september first.
his brown eyes. his brown eyes.
he sits by the window at spin’s café.
he sits by the window at spin’s café.
he looks lonely.
he looks lonely.
“um. hi,” yoochun smiled and shuffled his feet. “i’m park yoochun.”
jaejoong mirrored his smile, lost in the comfort of his eyes browneyesbrowneyes and slowly frowned when he lost track of time. “who are you?”
yoochun escaped a nervous chuckle and played with the bottom hem of his shirt. “i’m park yoochun.” he responded and felt the need to repeat. “park yoochun, park yoochun, i’m park yoochun.”
jaejoong smiled and tilted his head slightly to the side. “hello park yoochun. i am. i am…” jaejoong frowned and quickly turned the pages to his notebook.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
my name is jaejoong kim.
“my name is jaejoong kim,” jaejoong smiled.
“hi jaejoong. it’s really nice to meet you.” yoochun watched as jaejoong’s bright face turned into a look of confusion and questioned his concerns. “are you alright? what’s wrong?”
jaejoong bit the insides of his cheeks. “who are you?”
i remembered our conversation. he asked the same question whoareyou? over and over again, always looking through his notebook and every so often, looking at me with uncertainty. he looked at me as if it was the first time he ever met me. and i found out with a smile, his days always ended with a hello.
i just never knew that his hellos were my goodbyes.
i met him again three weeks later on december twenty-first at spin’s café. ever since that day on the swings, i was unable to forget about him. his smiles and his face were my only thoughts. i approached him and said my hello to which he responded back with a slight nod of his head.
and still ever the same question whoareyou? before any conversation took place in the hour.
i was disappointed and let down.
but then, i felt the corners of my lips gradually curved upward into a smile when he opened up a new page in his notebook, a new page to be filled with memories of me.
december twenty-first.
brown eyes. his brown eyes.
his name is yoochun park. yoochun park.
his name is yoochun park. yoochun park.
i sat there and watched him write down his memories for every two minutes spent. i wanted him to know that i’d be willing to be his hellos and never his goodbyes.
yoochun park is a nice person.
yoochun park is a nice person.
my name is jaejoong kim and i made a new friend today.
my name is jaejoong kim and i made a new friend today.
yoochun park. i think i like him.
yoochun park. i think i like him.
i wanted to be his memories, to be the memories filled in every page of his book. because i am yoochun park, twenty-two and alone. i lived each day with a camera inside my head always ready for replay and jaejoong-jaejoong kim lived each of his days like it was a new beginning, two minutes to remember and two minutes have already forgotten.