[oneshot] falling at this angle (left you broken like me)
falling at this angle (left you broken like me)
jin wishes his pixy hands can save you.
johnny's entertainment.
jin/yamapi. 2,025 words.
a/n- this is basically my je_holiday fic which i just decided to repost for archive's sake.
and because i had no time to do it before. (:
falling at this angle
(left you broken like me)
'I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.’
Jonathan Safran Foer, (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)
zero degrees and it’s all pretty stable
The days you had wings were few but unforgettable. You tore down ocean spray with your lovely hands and when you smiled it was destruction. You believed in magic and you swore by fame, and you crash banged your way into eternity with a signature on paper.
We’ll look after you, they said.
You smiled and shook their hands. Okay, you said, okay.
A few months later you are a star already, as much as your tiny frame allows you to be, and you are there, in front, dancing your heart out and starring in dramas. The people out there love you, they think you are fantastic and they follow your moves, whatever you do.
He is a boy. Jin, he says, my name is Jin.
Hello Jin, you say, my name is Tomohisa. I hope we get along.
Oh no, Jin says, there’s something wrong already. Put a smile on that face, okay? Sad people are boring; I can’t have sad people as my friends. He grins at you, teeth tugging on his lips, and you can’t help but smile back. Five minutes and he’s already captivating you. (It’s a theme, you’ll learn later.)
10°: slipping, slipping
He shows up at your house unannounced one night, with promises on his lips, lets go stargazing, lets go skydiving, you know, celebration. I’m happy for you. Except that you know that he isn’t happy because really you know he deserved to be in that band right along with you. Except that you are going to be famous, going to debut. Except that he is not.
He is lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, his ankles crossed. You laugh loudly and say, Jin your ankles are crossed. You think to yourself that your sister crosses her ankles when she lies down, and you tell Jin that. Like a girl, you say. He hits you over the head with a pillow and his eyes smile wide.
Later he escapes to the balcony and you trail behind. He sits on the edge of one of the chairs and pretends to be super grown up, play acting at adulthood. You follow his lead, and watch as he sings out notes into the dark, wondering how many people Jin would disturb at this time of night. He says: it would be so easy when we’re older, our dreams would just slip into our hands. He stares at you seriously as he says this, one of those few moments when he says something and means it. You say: yeah, it would be.
Your heart twinges. He’s illuminated by stars, and his fingers flash pixydust. Your heart beats triple paced; knotted and bound. It’s harder to breathe. You’re drowning. Oh, you’re drowning.
You remember that moment later, much later in your life after twenty three years of living surrealism.
He doesn’t, but you’re not surprised.
fortyfive and you’re trying to keep balanced
take a step backwards. think. when did this happen. why am i here. there is a distance between the here and now. there is a distance between where you are and where i am. i know i’m on a pedestal, struck there by millions of people around the country, around the world. but you, you’re on a plane too, your wings streaking you a species higher than humanity.
i’m still wondering why you’re so loud but sometimes it feels like you want to be the quietest person in the room. i’m still wondering why even though we’re such good friends you won’t let me through. i want to be let through.
think. think again. junior photoshoots where i am in the middle, you off to the side. non-existent singles where you are the one who sings the most lines because you know you are the best, they want your voice up there, in the charts. days where i am noticed and you barely are.
but i swear, it won’t be that way anymore. i don’t want to hear your whitewashed words, because i was born an unbeliever, and i’ll die one too. because we were both born one and the same. because the universe threw me out of its backyard. i’ll come because you called for me.
you self diagnosed yourself with depression and smoked it all away. you thought the world laced you between it’s eyes and your heart, glazing away those pretty synthetic eyes belonging to wax dolls and coffins. and i said, i said: i swear. this time. this time i will-
i promised myself that i wouldn’t turn out like you but i did anyway.
ninety degrees, tripping and falling
Flutter flutter bang bang. That is the sound of your heart pounding when he is near. You want to believe in love like others believe in gods, without proof of existence but hanging on for miracles but you’re not sure. Not sure if that belief is something set in stone or something intangible that would fly away quicker than your childhood.
He invites you out to dinner and you say okay. He takes you to Disneyland with him, and you both stay there late enough to watch the fireworks explode over the castle. He drags you to clubs and takes you dancing (you have filming the next day and fall asleep between takes.) You don’t know how to say no.
You are who you are because he made you this way. Jin is the one who wrote your history out on a sheet of your forgotten homework and he’s the one that is pulling your marionette strings. Wherever he goes, you will follow. You’ll follow him into the dark.
an onehundredandeighty straight to your heart
You meet up at Yoyogi Park to exchange Christmas presents. It was his idea of course, to build a snowman and have a snowball fight. He is standing right in front of you, wind crossing his face like the remainder of winter. The snowflakes curl in his hair, catching on his eyelashes and he sticks out his tongue to catch them all, to proclaim himself victor and the king of the land.
You are, you say, you are-
The words don’t come. You aren’t surprised, not really, but his eyes shimmer and they catch on your face. He drops your christmas present into the snow (green, wrapped with red ribbons, the antithesis of your wrapping, how funny) and he steps up towards you. hey pi, he whispers. hey pi, i like you.
He pushes you down into the snow and kisses you hard.
He tastes like every promise you’ve ever broken, and this is the both of you: fleeting, constant, now. The both of you forming the bonds that would make this bitterer in the end, young lovers before despair. This is the way that it plays out, hands on cheekbones and lips on necks. Panting, praying, breaths fogging up the air. This is the two of you aching and in love. This is the two of you making snow angels on the earth, imprinting yourselves into the white.
two seventy degrees, your time is running out
You lie there, tangled in the night’s unrest. Jin is curled up beside you, and he is warm. You feel warm inside. Sweetness plays with his words as he twirls your hair around his fingers. The light is shining through the window, lacing his bones like an angel-complex.
He tilts his head: guess what, we’re debuting.
You smile, ruffle his hair: that’s great, you’re going to be big.
He smirks: we’re going to beat your band in the charts for sure.
You shrug: bring it on.
He tackles you and you fight him back, jabbing him between the ribs and then laughing and kissing him. This is the two of you, smiling, laughing, there. The sky is crashing above you and the universe is holding on with strings, the sun shining on with silhouette gold but you don’t care; why would you? You’re happy and in love. It’s what matters; it’s the only thing that matters when there is nothing left.
threefifteen and clinging onto hope
I’m leaving, he says.
His heartstring fingers are played over your hair, weaving in out with invisible threads to your soul. You’re yesterday’s effluvia and tonight’s broken boy, your eyes made up of soaked paper towels and Jin is death’s monster with a heart made out of inexperienced knots and burnished gold. He’s a wingless boy with crooked halo innocence and the way he moves is beautiful did he know, you know.
You look up at him and laugh, take me with you?
He snaps to seriousness, i’m going to LA. tomorrow.
You shift around so you can look into him, hope he is lying, hope he is wrong. You look into his core and find nothing but truth. It is quiet and it is sure and it scares you. The truth floors you, drowns you. Love is killing you.
You feel it assembling in your mind. What you’ve always dreamed of and awoke crying and feeling weak. The fear of him seeping out into the earth, dissipating into the hearts of oceans. The fear of him leaving you behind.
350°: all the heartache in the world
and stop. the first few days without you are quiet and painful, except i learn to bear it, learn to keep my head high. i tried to keep on running at life as i always did, except i fell short and was stumped for words and for inspiration because i had no idea how my life used to be without you.
so i sit in my band’s common room, a ploy to return to normalcy in my life, the phone in one hand and your number on the other. i dial and you pick up. hello, you say in perfect english. pause. it’s been a while, jin, i say. (four days, seven hours and thirteen minutes.)
fast forward to sometime later, before we speak again: it’s dark inside but the lights are all on. some things i will not remember and some things i will never forget. the sky outside is tangerine fresh out of thunderstorm colours, and i’m playing a cassette tape with our voices taped onto it and i play the recording over and over again.
i realize i have the potential to fall in love a thousand times otherwise. except that you set the mould for what i would ever love about anyone else. except that you are the person that will always set my heart aflame. i will never lose you: i swear to myself in an effigy of promise.
revolution, revolution
It’s time. Your ten billion heartbreaks are scrolled across your mind, and you wish, wish for it to reverse, rewind. To turn a full three hundred and sixty degrees into the past. You breathe in his cigarette smoke voice, lightly drifting and then disappearing. Jin is there. His voice is silent magic. He’s got a cigarette in his mouth but he is trying to quit. Except that he is not. You are here. You are here and your heart has to break from over a distance.
That is his life and this is yours. You pull out his face from a pile of ashes; try to conjure the exact cursive lines of his cheekbones. You try and picture the shade of his eyes and you are scared when you cannot. You try and phone him but the dial tone goes to static.
You remember the Jin that will be and that was. You hold him in your arms without him there. Firework maplines streak the path to your heart, exploding, sudden, silence. Jin is here. He is lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, his ankles crossed (like a girl, you say. you cross your ankles, i mean.) Jin is there. He is standing right in front of you at Yoyogi park, wind crossing his face like the remainder of winter and a christmas present in his hands (you are, you whisper, you are-) Jin is here but he is not.
(You are never, ever alone.)
jin wishes his pixy hands can save you.
johnny's entertainment.
jin/yamapi. 2,025 words.
a/n- this is basically my je_holiday fic which i just decided to repost for archive's sake.
and because i had no time to do it before. (:
falling at this angle
(left you broken like me)
'I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.’
Jonathan Safran Foer, (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)
zero degrees and it’s all pretty stable
The days you had wings were few but unforgettable. You tore down ocean spray with your lovely hands and when you smiled it was destruction. You believed in magic and you swore by fame, and you crash banged your way into eternity with a signature on paper.
We’ll look after you, they said.
You smiled and shook their hands. Okay, you said, okay.
A few months later you are a star already, as much as your tiny frame allows you to be, and you are there, in front, dancing your heart out and starring in dramas. The people out there love you, they think you are fantastic and they follow your moves, whatever you do.
He is a boy. Jin, he says, my name is Jin.
Hello Jin, you say, my name is Tomohisa. I hope we get along.
Oh no, Jin says, there’s something wrong already. Put a smile on that face, okay? Sad people are boring; I can’t have sad people as my friends. He grins at you, teeth tugging on his lips, and you can’t help but smile back. Five minutes and he’s already captivating you. (It’s a theme, you’ll learn later.)
10°: slipping, slipping
He shows up at your house unannounced one night, with promises on his lips, lets go stargazing, lets go skydiving, you know, celebration. I’m happy for you. Except that you know that he isn’t happy because really you know he deserved to be in that band right along with you. Except that you are going to be famous, going to debut. Except that he is not.
He is lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, his ankles crossed. You laugh loudly and say, Jin your ankles are crossed. You think to yourself that your sister crosses her ankles when she lies down, and you tell Jin that. Like a girl, you say. He hits you over the head with a pillow and his eyes smile wide.
Later he escapes to the balcony and you trail behind. He sits on the edge of one of the chairs and pretends to be super grown up, play acting at adulthood. You follow his lead, and watch as he sings out notes into the dark, wondering how many people Jin would disturb at this time of night. He says: it would be so easy when we’re older, our dreams would just slip into our hands. He stares at you seriously as he says this, one of those few moments when he says something and means it. You say: yeah, it would be.
Your heart twinges. He’s illuminated by stars, and his fingers flash pixydust. Your heart beats triple paced; knotted and bound. It’s harder to breathe. You’re drowning. Oh, you’re drowning.
You remember that moment later, much later in your life after twenty three years of living surrealism.
He doesn’t, but you’re not surprised.
fortyfive and you’re trying to keep balanced
take a step backwards. think. when did this happen. why am i here. there is a distance between the here and now. there is a distance between where you are and where i am. i know i’m on a pedestal, struck there by millions of people around the country, around the world. but you, you’re on a plane too, your wings streaking you a species higher than humanity.
i’m still wondering why you’re so loud but sometimes it feels like you want to be the quietest person in the room. i’m still wondering why even though we’re such good friends you won’t let me through. i want to be let through.
think. think again. junior photoshoots where i am in the middle, you off to the side. non-existent singles where you are the one who sings the most lines because you know you are the best, they want your voice up there, in the charts. days where i am noticed and you barely are.
but i swear, it won’t be that way anymore. i don’t want to hear your whitewashed words, because i was born an unbeliever, and i’ll die one too. because we were both born one and the same. because the universe threw me out of its backyard. i’ll come because you called for me.
you self diagnosed yourself with depression and smoked it all away. you thought the world laced you between it’s eyes and your heart, glazing away those pretty synthetic eyes belonging to wax dolls and coffins. and i said, i said: i swear. this time. this time i will-
i promised myself that i wouldn’t turn out like you but i did anyway.
ninety degrees, tripping and falling
Flutter flutter bang bang. That is the sound of your heart pounding when he is near. You want to believe in love like others believe in gods, without proof of existence but hanging on for miracles but you’re not sure. Not sure if that belief is something set in stone or something intangible that would fly away quicker than your childhood.
He invites you out to dinner and you say okay. He takes you to Disneyland with him, and you both stay there late enough to watch the fireworks explode over the castle. He drags you to clubs and takes you dancing (you have filming the next day and fall asleep between takes.) You don’t know how to say no.
You are who you are because he made you this way. Jin is the one who wrote your history out on a sheet of your forgotten homework and he’s the one that is pulling your marionette strings. Wherever he goes, you will follow. You’ll follow him into the dark.
an onehundredandeighty straight to your heart
You meet up at Yoyogi Park to exchange Christmas presents. It was his idea of course, to build a snowman and have a snowball fight. He is standing right in front of you, wind crossing his face like the remainder of winter. The snowflakes curl in his hair, catching on his eyelashes and he sticks out his tongue to catch them all, to proclaim himself victor and the king of the land.
You are, you say, you are-
The words don’t come. You aren’t surprised, not really, but his eyes shimmer and they catch on your face. He drops your christmas present into the snow (green, wrapped with red ribbons, the antithesis of your wrapping, how funny) and he steps up towards you. hey pi, he whispers. hey pi, i like you.
He pushes you down into the snow and kisses you hard.
He tastes like every promise you’ve ever broken, and this is the both of you: fleeting, constant, now. The both of you forming the bonds that would make this bitterer in the end, young lovers before despair. This is the way that it plays out, hands on cheekbones and lips on necks. Panting, praying, breaths fogging up the air. This is the two of you aching and in love. This is the two of you making snow angels on the earth, imprinting yourselves into the white.
two seventy degrees, your time is running out
You lie there, tangled in the night’s unrest. Jin is curled up beside you, and he is warm. You feel warm inside. Sweetness plays with his words as he twirls your hair around his fingers. The light is shining through the window, lacing his bones like an angel-complex.
He tilts his head: guess what, we’re debuting.
You smile, ruffle his hair: that’s great, you’re going to be big.
He smirks: we’re going to beat your band in the charts for sure.
You shrug: bring it on.
He tackles you and you fight him back, jabbing him between the ribs and then laughing and kissing him. This is the two of you, smiling, laughing, there. The sky is crashing above you and the universe is holding on with strings, the sun shining on with silhouette gold but you don’t care; why would you? You’re happy and in love. It’s what matters; it’s the only thing that matters when there is nothing left.
threefifteen and clinging onto hope
I’m leaving, he says.
His heartstring fingers are played over your hair, weaving in out with invisible threads to your soul. You’re yesterday’s effluvia and tonight’s broken boy, your eyes made up of soaked paper towels and Jin is death’s monster with a heart made out of inexperienced knots and burnished gold. He’s a wingless boy with crooked halo innocence and the way he moves is beautiful did he know, you know.
You look up at him and laugh, take me with you?
He snaps to seriousness, i’m going to LA. tomorrow.
You shift around so you can look into him, hope he is lying, hope he is wrong. You look into his core and find nothing but truth. It is quiet and it is sure and it scares you. The truth floors you, drowns you. Love is killing you.
You feel it assembling in your mind. What you’ve always dreamed of and awoke crying and feeling weak. The fear of him seeping out into the earth, dissipating into the hearts of oceans. The fear of him leaving you behind.
350°: all the heartache in the world
and stop. the first few days without you are quiet and painful, except i learn to bear it, learn to keep my head high. i tried to keep on running at life as i always did, except i fell short and was stumped for words and for inspiration because i had no idea how my life used to be without you.
so i sit in my band’s common room, a ploy to return to normalcy in my life, the phone in one hand and your number on the other. i dial and you pick up. hello, you say in perfect english. pause. it’s been a while, jin, i say. (four days, seven hours and thirteen minutes.)
fast forward to sometime later, before we speak again: it’s dark inside but the lights are all on. some things i will not remember and some things i will never forget. the sky outside is tangerine fresh out of thunderstorm colours, and i’m playing a cassette tape with our voices taped onto it and i play the recording over and over again.
i realize i have the potential to fall in love a thousand times otherwise. except that you set the mould for what i would ever love about anyone else. except that you are the person that will always set my heart aflame. i will never lose you: i swear to myself in an effigy of promise.
revolution, revolution
It’s time. Your ten billion heartbreaks are scrolled across your mind, and you wish, wish for it to reverse, rewind. To turn a full three hundred and sixty degrees into the past. You breathe in his cigarette smoke voice, lightly drifting and then disappearing. Jin is there. His voice is silent magic. He’s got a cigarette in his mouth but he is trying to quit. Except that he is not. You are here. You are here and your heart has to break from over a distance.
That is his life and this is yours. You pull out his face from a pile of ashes; try to conjure the exact cursive lines of his cheekbones. You try and picture the shade of his eyes and you are scared when you cannot. You try and phone him but the dial tone goes to static.
You remember the Jin that will be and that was. You hold him in your arms without him there. Firework maplines streak the path to your heart, exploding, sudden, silence. Jin is here. He is lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, his ankles crossed (like a girl, you say. you cross your ankles, i mean.) Jin is there. He is standing right in front of you at Yoyogi park, wind crossing his face like the remainder of winter and a christmas present in his hands (you are, you whisper, you are-) Jin is here but he is not.
(You are never, ever alone.)