Moonlight Whispers I Love You - Oneshot (Subora; Anyband)
Title: Moonlight Whispers I Love You
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Subora
Band: Anyband
Genre: romance/drama/anyband!au
Rating: PG
Warning: er, one cuss word, het? xD
Disclaimer: Don't own these people, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: Cacophony;
-noun, plural -nies.
1. harsh discordance of sound; dissonance.
2. Music. frequent use of discords of a harshness and relationship difficult to understand.
Comments: eviel_bubble said i had to write it before Christmas xD Dedicated to her <3 Set in Anyband!verse, and all the italic lyrics are from Promise You.
She’s born in the twilight city, on the narrow line between fate and reality - the first and only child of a government official and a housewife. She learns piano at two years old in the basement of their house, when music is frowned upon but still - secretly, privately - exists.
Her mother dies when she’s twelve; the world flips upside down and they relocate to the city of silence and rules and her father’s promotion. "Bora," he told her gruffly, two days after her mother’s death, "I’m selling that silly piano. We shouldn’t have ever had it in the first place."
Why, she wanted to ask. Why, when she plays so well and it makes her mother smile - made her mother smile - and the sweet sound always trickled into her veins. Why, when the music makes her feel so beautiful. But, "Okay," she said with tears streaked down her face, still clutching at the fresh pain of loss. Okay, and she never saw the piano again.
Bora meets Junsu inside a sliver of moonlight, with blood pounding loud and rhythmic in her ears. "No, no no," she’s whispering, a chant rising in the cold air. He’s a mess of dirty clothes and hair that falls in just the right amount of unkemptness; a stark contrast to everything she’s ever known. "Hi." He crouches down next to her. Behind him, a girl slides out of the shadows.
"Come with us?" She murmurs to Bora, and Bora obeys; Junsu’s arms hold tight around her shoulders.
She learns their names under the soft light of one bulb and a computer’s glow. Junsu, Boa, Tablo - you’re safe, you’re safe, they whisper in the tones of their introductions. She doesn’t tell them why she’s here, doesn’t tell them of the complications of being (a prodigy, her mother used to say, you play music so well, my daughter) who she is.
They don’t ask. Tablo hands her a portion of their meal, indiscernible soup, and smiles an apology. "Who are you?" she whispers, tired and relieved. He laughs. "The soul of every person who’s still alive in this fucking city." A glance from Boa, and he amends,
"We’re rebels."
That night they sleep in a huddle of four, Tablo and Junsu on the fringes and her next to Boa, the girl whispering stories in her ear until the tension uncoils from her body. It’s strangely comfortable, this closeness with them - they’re not strangers, now. "I had to leave," Bora admits, when the conversation pauses. "I had to leave so he didn’t get in trouble. They would’ve taken me away, he would’ve been in trouble."
"I know," Boa murmurs. Her nails are dark and smooth against Bora’s arm. "I know, honey, but it’s all going to be okay."
Junsu sings in the morning, a melody of sunshine and carefully picked notes - it’s the first thing she hears as she wakes up, him singing the vague dreams are in your hands. "How?" She starts, and he turns around - grins, shifts a little. "Tablo and Boa are gone, it’s not safe for us to all be together this long."
"What were you singing?" Why were you singing, she really wants to know. It’s dangerous to sing - and he has talent. It’s dangerous to have talent, isn’t it?
Junsu’s smile widens; he’s the kind of person who has laugh lines etched into their face, with humor permanently laced through their words. "My - our, Tablo and Boa and mine’s, song."
He looks at her - almost shyly - and opens his mouth again. The morning is filled with music and sound and Junsu’s voice. Enjoy your life, I’ll be your strength, hold my hand.
She finds the keyboard when Tablo comes back, pushed back behind the computer and the wall - he’s working, numbers sprawled across the screen in patterns of code, and she looks past him at the computer and sees the shiny black salvation. "Is that?"
"What?" He glances up, follows her gaze, "Oh!" A pause, "Can you play?"
"Yes," she whispers. Can I? She’s walking towards the keyboard, and he pulls it out and sets it on the table, surprise and anticipation on his face. Bora relaxes into the feel of keys under her fingers, the melody of sound that flows from under her hands. She remembers the piano from her childhood and plays a lullaby - the first thing she learned.
She understands revolution, but she understand rhythm and melody better - her life is born into music, not the politics and intricacies of revolts. But Bora understands harmony, and she knows the cacophony of the world - so she agrees when the three of them ask, polite and desperate, "Help us?"
It’s a veiled way of saying, please, become one of us. Join us.
She’s already one of them.
They’re all connected; they can still hear music. They’re alive with music.
Junsu takes to holding her hand when they’re outside on the streets, hidden from the guards in a careful pattern of movement that Junsu’s perfected. He knows where they’ll be, and where to hide, and she asks him, "Have you lived here always?"
"Yeah," he says, and his eyes goes distant. She squeezes his hand. A beat, and he’s grinning again. "Right here," Junsu points to the square ahead of them, "right here is where I first got in trouble for not following the rules. I stopped, and I sang."
A quick tune under his breath, and he adds, "My brother laughed at it."
She looks at him, but he doesn’t say anymore. He pulls her closer and twists his arms around her, hums another line and whispers, "Laughter can be dangerous." The raw vulnerability in his voice has her shaking, twining her arms around his back and murmuring, "Junsu, Junsu."
He sings a song with no words, just the rise and fall of beauty and mourning, until it flows into a tune she knows well, and together they’re saying I’ll always be with you, whatever it means, promise you.
Tablo and Boa have everything meticulously planned, sketches of the city on the table and wires strewn across the floor - the essentials, technology. Junsu’s mouth is set, but his eyes are bright - he’s excited.
Boa leaves first, she touches hands with everyone and cups Bora’s cheek - be strong, the gesture says, in case I don’t see you again. "Revolution," she says at the door. "Freedom." Tablo is silent, tangled nerves and tension - he moves towards them in the parody of a hug, but he shies back and follows Boa through the door.
Junsu and Bora are left on the edge of the street. They hold onto each other as long as possible, hands slipping apart second by second, until her fingers barely touch his; Junsu smiles. "Let’s do this."
"Yes," she says. "Yes."
He’s singing as he walks away, any time, any day with you.
Author: kayjayloves
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Subora
Band: Anyband
Genre: romance/drama/anyband!au
Rating: PG
Warning: er, one cuss word, het? xD
Disclaimer: Don't own these people, just my interpretations of them.
Synopsis: Cacophony;
-noun, plural -nies.
1. harsh discordance of sound; dissonance.
2. Music. frequent use of discords of a harshness and relationship difficult to understand.
Comments: eviel_bubble said i had to write it before Christmas xD Dedicated to her <3 Set in Anyband!verse, and all the italic lyrics are from Promise You.
She’s born in the twilight city, on the narrow line between fate and reality - the first and only child of a government official and a housewife. She learns piano at two years old in the basement of their house, when music is frowned upon but still - secretly, privately - exists.
Her mother dies when she’s twelve; the world flips upside down and they relocate to the city of silence and rules and her father’s promotion. "Bora," he told her gruffly, two days after her mother’s death, "I’m selling that silly piano. We shouldn’t have ever had it in the first place."
Why, she wanted to ask. Why, when she plays so well and it makes her mother smile - made her mother smile - and the sweet sound always trickled into her veins. Why, when the music makes her feel so beautiful. But, "Okay," she said with tears streaked down her face, still clutching at the fresh pain of loss. Okay, and she never saw the piano again.
Bora meets Junsu inside a sliver of moonlight, with blood pounding loud and rhythmic in her ears. "No, no no," she’s whispering, a chant rising in the cold air. He’s a mess of dirty clothes and hair that falls in just the right amount of unkemptness; a stark contrast to everything she’s ever known. "Hi." He crouches down next to her. Behind him, a girl slides out of the shadows.
"Come with us?" She murmurs to Bora, and Bora obeys; Junsu’s arms hold tight around her shoulders.
She learns their names under the soft light of one bulb and a computer’s glow. Junsu, Boa, Tablo - you’re safe, you’re safe, they whisper in the tones of their introductions. She doesn’t tell them why she’s here, doesn’t tell them of the complications of being (a prodigy, her mother used to say, you play music so well, my daughter) who she is.
They don’t ask. Tablo hands her a portion of their meal, indiscernible soup, and smiles an apology. "Who are you?" she whispers, tired and relieved. He laughs. "The soul of every person who’s still alive in this fucking city." A glance from Boa, and he amends,
"We’re rebels."
That night they sleep in a huddle of four, Tablo and Junsu on the fringes and her next to Boa, the girl whispering stories in her ear until the tension uncoils from her body. It’s strangely comfortable, this closeness with them - they’re not strangers, now. "I had to leave," Bora admits, when the conversation pauses. "I had to leave so he didn’t get in trouble. They would’ve taken me away, he would’ve been in trouble."
"I know," Boa murmurs. Her nails are dark and smooth against Bora’s arm. "I know, honey, but it’s all going to be okay."
Junsu sings in the morning, a melody of sunshine and carefully picked notes - it’s the first thing she hears as she wakes up, him singing the vague dreams are in your hands. "How?" She starts, and he turns around - grins, shifts a little. "Tablo and Boa are gone, it’s not safe for us to all be together this long."
"What were you singing?" Why were you singing, she really wants to know. It’s dangerous to sing - and he has talent. It’s dangerous to have talent, isn’t it?
Junsu’s smile widens; he’s the kind of person who has laugh lines etched into their face, with humor permanently laced through their words. "My - our, Tablo and Boa and mine’s, song."
He looks at her - almost shyly - and opens his mouth again. The morning is filled with music and sound and Junsu’s voice. Enjoy your life, I’ll be your strength, hold my hand.
She finds the keyboard when Tablo comes back, pushed back behind the computer and the wall - he’s working, numbers sprawled across the screen in patterns of code, and she looks past him at the computer and sees the shiny black salvation. "Is that?"
"What?" He glances up, follows her gaze, "Oh!" A pause, "Can you play?"
"Yes," she whispers. Can I? She’s walking towards the keyboard, and he pulls it out and sets it on the table, surprise and anticipation on his face. Bora relaxes into the feel of keys under her fingers, the melody of sound that flows from under her hands. She remembers the piano from her childhood and plays a lullaby - the first thing she learned.
She understands revolution, but she understand rhythm and melody better - her life is born into music, not the politics and intricacies of revolts. But Bora understands harmony, and she knows the cacophony of the world - so she agrees when the three of them ask, polite and desperate, "Help us?"
It’s a veiled way of saying, please, become one of us. Join us.
She’s already one of them.
They’re all connected; they can still hear music. They’re alive with music.
Junsu takes to holding her hand when they’re outside on the streets, hidden from the guards in a careful pattern of movement that Junsu’s perfected. He knows where they’ll be, and where to hide, and she asks him, "Have you lived here always?"
"Yeah," he says, and his eyes goes distant. She squeezes his hand. A beat, and he’s grinning again. "Right here," Junsu points to the square ahead of them, "right here is where I first got in trouble for not following the rules. I stopped, and I sang."
A quick tune under his breath, and he adds, "My brother laughed at it."
She looks at him, but he doesn’t say anymore. He pulls her closer and twists his arms around her, hums another line and whispers, "Laughter can be dangerous." The raw vulnerability in his voice has her shaking, twining her arms around his back and murmuring, "Junsu, Junsu."
He sings a song with no words, just the rise and fall of beauty and mourning, until it flows into a tune she knows well, and together they’re saying I’ll always be with you, whatever it means, promise you.
Tablo and Boa have everything meticulously planned, sketches of the city on the table and wires strewn across the floor - the essentials, technology. Junsu’s mouth is set, but his eyes are bright - he’s excited.
Boa leaves first, she touches hands with everyone and cups Bora’s cheek - be strong, the gesture says, in case I don’t see you again. "Revolution," she says at the door. "Freedom." Tablo is silent, tangled nerves and tension - he moves towards them in the parody of a hug, but he shies back and follows Boa through the door.
Junsu and Bora are left on the edge of the street. They hold onto each other as long as possible, hands slipping apart second by second, until her fingers barely touch his; Junsu smiles. "Let’s do this."
"Yes," she says. "Yes."
He’s singing as he walks away, any time, any day with you.