i don't even like reading or writing first-person pov fics, so i have no clue where this came from. written for the second prompt, which should warn you away from this if character death is a trigger for you. "What do you want, Jessica?" you ask me over dinner. You have half of a noodle stuck to your bottom lip and you smell like the inside of my mother's bedroom closet, musty and faint with perfume, and it makes my stomach turn, makes me take another drink from the bottle before passing it to you. "More photographs and invitations? Less responsibility
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shinee;jonghyun centric;third prompt;suicide warning
anonymous
April 28 2011, 04:27:52 UTC
"I heard that if you stare in the mirror long enough, you see part of your past life."
Jinki had once told him that as he preened in front of the van's rear view mirror. Without turning, Jonghyun had watched as Kibum hit Jinki and told him to stop playing around. But Jinki swore it was true, only breaking his serious expression when Jonghyun widened his eyes and said, "You're right. You should see this chick I was banging."
He could see that scene more clearly than his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, which was blurring in and out and he had no idea how he was still standing or thinking or breathing.
If he let go of the sink, it would end.
And wasn't that what he wanted? He had thought so. That's why he had come here alone, why the pills and alcohol were mixing in his stomach.
Just let go.
He looked in the mirror and the face that stared back wasn't sweaty and pale.
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Jinki had once told him that as he preened in front of the van's rear view mirror. Without turning, Jonghyun had watched as Kibum hit Jinki and told him to stop playing around. But Jinki swore it was true, only breaking his serious expression when Jonghyun widened his eyes and said, "You're right. You should see this chick I was banging."
He could see that scene more clearly than his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, which was blurring in and out and he had no idea how he was still standing or thinking or breathing.
If he let go of the sink, it would end.
And wasn't that what he wanted? He had thought so. That's why he had come here alone, why the pills and alcohol were mixing in his stomach.
Just let go.
He looked in the mirror and the face that stared back wasn't sweaty and pale.
"Just let go."
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thank you!
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