skyinduced
in
inorae
i love you inside all this.
this one's for you,
jaebeom (centric) // pg // 437 words.
This must be a common note but first time attempting 2pm. Please feel free to tell me to gtfo of this fandom and stick to Suju, lol.
It has been four months, one week, and six days.
Jaebeom doesn't count the days go by.
He doesn't know that it's been one hundred and thirty five days since they've been going on without him. He avoids phone calls for weeks at a time, because he can see them plastered all over the internet and it hurts in ways it shouldn't.
The words he could, and does, say aren't what they want to hear. It is always a good bye at the end of every phone call instead of an I'll see you soon. Jaebeom doesn't know what he'd say, doesn't know if he can hold back the useless promises that'd slip out just to lighten the tone.
He doesn't know what he'll say if Junsu tells him that hyung, it's not the same with a slight pause at the end again, so he doesn't say anything at all.
Jaebeom doesn't count the days go by, but sometimes, he finds himself looking at the date on his phone and calculating how long he's been away.
December comes and it's the first Christmas in a while he spends with his family and not ten other boys screaming the number of seconds left until they get to open their presents.
It's Friday again and Junho isn't waking him up with snuggles to his neck a little past two in the morning and Chansung isn't piling himself on top of them while Wooyoung tugs on his hand and Taecyeon isn't sneaking around with sparklers and a lighter as Junsu trails behind him and Nichkhun isn't making sure their manager is still asleep and this time, Jaebeom is welcoming the new year by himself.
Jaebeom tries to imagine himself seven years from now and he sees himself in the same place as he is now, only a little bit older and a little bit grayer.
There is no wife. There are no cute kids running circles around his feet. The house is now a one bedroom apartment and all the days look the same. There are no phone calls these days and the screams of fans have long since faded.
He imagines a dance studio and teenagers that have never heard of a Park Jaebeom. He imagines walls lined with photos and posters of six, sometimes seven, sometimes ten, eleven, boys that made it big.
Seven years from now and he can picture wary smiles as one of the students in his dance class points at a poster of them with smiles stretching their faces and asks, "Is that you?" There'd be wonder and, "Who are they?"
("Family. They're family.")
...yeah, I don't know. I might repost at my journal if I ever get around to extending it into something longer, but it's hopeless right now, crying.
jaebeom (centric) // pg // 437 words.
This must be a common note but first time attempting 2pm. Please feel free to tell me to gtfo of this fandom and stick to Suju, lol.
It has been four months, one week, and six days.
Jaebeom doesn't count the days go by.
He doesn't know that it's been one hundred and thirty five days since they've been going on without him. He avoids phone calls for weeks at a time, because he can see them plastered all over the internet and it hurts in ways it shouldn't.
The words he could, and does, say aren't what they want to hear. It is always a good bye at the end of every phone call instead of an I'll see you soon. Jaebeom doesn't know what he'd say, doesn't know if he can hold back the useless promises that'd slip out just to lighten the tone.
He doesn't know what he'll say if Junsu tells him that hyung, it's not the same with a slight pause at the end again, so he doesn't say anything at all.
Jaebeom doesn't count the days go by, but sometimes, he finds himself looking at the date on his phone and calculating how long he's been away.
December comes and it's the first Christmas in a while he spends with his family and not ten other boys screaming the number of seconds left until they get to open their presents.
It's Friday again and Junho isn't waking him up with snuggles to his neck a little past two in the morning and Chansung isn't piling himself on top of them while Wooyoung tugs on his hand and Taecyeon isn't sneaking around with sparklers and a lighter as Junsu trails behind him and Nichkhun isn't making sure their manager is still asleep and this time, Jaebeom is welcoming the new year by himself.
Jaebeom tries to imagine himself seven years from now and he sees himself in the same place as he is now, only a little bit older and a little bit grayer.
There is no wife. There are no cute kids running circles around his feet. The house is now a one bedroom apartment and all the days look the same. There are no phone calls these days and the screams of fans have long since faded.
He imagines a dance studio and teenagers that have never heard of a Park Jaebeom. He imagines walls lined with photos and posters of six, sometimes seven, sometimes ten, eleven, boys that made it big.
Seven years from now and he can picture wary smiles as one of the students in his dance class points at a poster of them with smiles stretching their faces and asks, "Is that you?" There'd be wonder and, "Who are they?"
("Family. They're family.")
...yeah, I don't know. I might repost at my journal if I ever get around to extending it into something longer, but it's hopeless right now, crying.