fly (away and away)
fly (away and away)
2556 words ; pg ; angst (jaejin/nicole)
he likes to remind her because she always forgets.
a/n: I was inspired by this song and also an article I read not too long ago about Nicole ranking lowest in terms of looks among Kara (I disagree). And combined with my love for this pairing... and then yeah, this product out of severe writer's block happened...
Nicole lies in the warmth and comforts of Jaejin’s slender arms interweaved around her small frame, inhaling scents of combined perfumes with the sound of nature filling the silent, still air of the night. He buries his nose into the tip of her head, eyes closed and breathes, nostril tickled by the smell of shampoo (something fruity, something that buries the dried sweat in results of her dance rehearsals a few hours before). He remains muted as he listens to the sound of her humming to a tune he is not familiar with. Though it didn’t really matter to him; he has always loved the sound coming out of her mouth. Her soft, delicate voice reminds him of a tinkling wind chime, the whistle of the breeze on a windy day; a sound that soothes him.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers in a tone so low, as if exchanging a sweet secret.
(He likes to remind her once in a while; he knows she tends to forget.)
He feels drops of wet (soon he recognizes as tears) lands and tingles his skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I--” he shushes her when she begins to choke out the same words over and over between her sobs. He whispers ‘everything will be okay’ and ‘I’m here’, plants a soft yet love empowered kiss on her temple with dear comforting words to get her by. He holds her tighter when she trembles and tries to escape from his grip. He doesn’t let go.
Let it go, let it go, he tells her.
“Your room is so messy,” she complains; her back on the mattress and eyes fixated on the ceiling. He watches her blink, blink and blink, wondering what else is on her mind as she stares into the boring, but with glow in the dark stars messily scattered upon, ceiling.
“I know,” he finally answers, shifting his attention back to the guitar he is supporting on his lap.
“It’s cramped too.”
He smiles and repeats with an ‘I know’. His fingers plucking the strings; slowly running through each four of them but his mind is nowhere concentrated on his bass. It is still somehow distracted by thoughts of her. She continues to complain about his room, his dorm and about almost everything but he listens. He likes to listen to her voice. He likes listening to whatever it is that she has in the little box inside her head. He likes it when she lets all the words out.
“I love you,” he decides to interrupt her ramblings.
She pauses and he knows her cheeks are heating up. He likes that, he likes knowing that he has that kind of effect on her. He places his guitar aside carefully before standing up, making his way towards her. She glances at him, cheeks painted with a light shade of pink and a precious smile gracing her lips. He loves her smile, so much as being the reason behind the smile. Her smile radiates--he knows because all his eyes could see right now is the curve on her lips and everything else around him is black and unseen.
He drops onto what little small space left on the bed beside her and entwines her into an embrace; whispers those three words time and again with kisses in between. A mellifluous giggle burbles past her lips and he smiles when their noses touch.
“You’re so beautiful, Nicole.”
(He likes to remind her. He knows she always forgets.)
She looks down, avoiding his gaze but he notices her lips trembling. He tightens his hold around her, lovingly caressing and with every single touch he wants to tell her that he cares, that he is always there for her. He hopes she feels it and whispers honey and buttercups into her ears.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry; he hears her chant but he tells her everything is alright.
“I’m a mess,” she blubbers, her face buried and hidden into her palms, refusing to comply when he tries to pull them away. He wants to wipe the tears, he wants to kiss them away but she keeps crying and crying.
He wants to tell her she’s beautiful, she’s still beautiful even when she’s in such a state. But he lets the words reverberate in his head instead and remains silent as he presses a kiss on her forehead. He wishes she would let the demons in her head out, let it all out just like how she complains about his room, his dorm and almost everything. He is willing to listen but she thinks he wouldn’t understand.
Let it go, let it go, the only words he could tell her.
Let me in, the words he does not.
He has his eyes closed as he rests his head on her lap, allowing her fingers to twirl and twist through, leaving him in a messy mop of hair. His forehead creases, wincing once or twice whenever her fingers would get stuck between his locks. She would end up laughing when she accidentally pulls out at least two or three strands from his head when she pries her fingers away almost too quickly. He wants to tell her to be gentler but he doesn’t; he is okay with that. He likes it when she’s happy, above all.
“Jaejinnie, your hair is so dry,” she comments, tracing and inspecting his locks closely.
He sighs with an ‘I know’. And then his eyes flutters open when he hears her gasp all of the sudden.
“Look at all these ones with split ends!” is what comes out of her mouth and he chuckles, a little relieved. She is always so dramatic about everything but he doesn’t mind. At least he knows that she cares. “I liked it when you were blonde,” she suddenly says, enclosing his neck around her arms and rests her face next to his.
“Do you still love me even if my hair’s not blonde right now?” he asks, well aware of how childish the question sounded.
She hums what sounds like a yes in reply and mumbles an ‘I love you’ when she kisses his cheek. He likes it when she tells him she loves him, her lips against his skin, so much as them being on his lips. He turns his head and locks their lips together, thinking of how much he likes-no, loves kissing her. He likes the taste of her and he likes how soft her lips feel. He doesn’t see fireworks as deemed in the movies when their lips are conjoined; all he sees is black when he has his eyes closed. He does not see, but he feels. He feels the love that he has for her boiling inside his heart. He feels the love surging out and through, intensifying the kiss. She has this kind of effect on him and he does not mind. Everything they do together sends tingles down his skin like it’s the first time, only with much more passion. He does not mind the butterflies dancing in his stomach. He wants to tell her how he strongly feels towards her, he feels that she needs to know but he can’t seem to find the right words to do his feelings justice. He tries to arrange words in his head but all he ends up saying is:
“You’re so beautiful, Nicole,” he whispers into the kiss.
(Maybe if he says this enough, she will believe him.)
He holds her close when the tears start streaming down her cheeks. He does not let her cover her face this time because he wants to wipe the tears away for her; he does just that. He kisses each of her cheeks, again and again, cooing affectionate whispers as he touches her and vows to make her feel better.
Let me in, is stuck in his throat.
Let it go, let it go.
On days when their schedules do not permit them from seeing each other, he finds himself spending his spare time practicing with the television on, just in case her face comes on (it does, occasionally). He enjoys watching a three minute long music video of hers (if he’s lucky enough to catch it) in between TV shows intervals because he misses her when they are not together and doing just this is quite enough. This is enough to get him by.
He slumps his body into the couch, lazily plucking the guitar as he stares at the television screen. Eyes threatening to close, the result from the long busy day he has had that day.
“Oh boy, hyung, you look pathetic,” he feels the couch shake when Minhwan flops down beside him, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “I heard Kara’s guest starring in this… hold on,” the younger trails off, channel surfing before finally stopping at a channel, “this show.” he finishes with a grin of satisfaction over the fact that his guess was right. He gestures towards the show, currently broadcasting live.
Jaejin straightens up, his eyes a little wider now.
“You look better now, hyung,” Minhwan teases, lightly elbowing him in his rib. He dismisses the drummer with a chuckle and focuses onto the show, inwardly wishing Nicole had more screen time.
“Let’s talk about Nicole-ssi next,” the MC’s voice echoed across the room, the camera focusing on a smiling Nicole. “Nicole-ssi is really pretty in my opinion,” the MC continues and she breaks into a giggle, smiling shyly as she claps her hands.
As if instinctively, Jaejin smiles too. He likes it when he sees her blush and attempt to cover it with a giggle. Or how she would cover her mouth with the back of her palm and her eyes would crinkle into crescents; how she would bite her lower lip and the small mole beneath her lips stands out. He likes paying attention on those little details of hers.
“But Nicole-ssi always ranks last when it comes to looks in Kara members,” that is when he sees her lips twitch and he frowns. He can see the flash of dejection in her eyes when her self confidence plummets down but she covers it well with a smile, although this one didn’t quite reach her eyes. He curses under his breath for the fact that this topic is still going on and he swears he would punch the MC in the face, if only he was there at the moment but he knows he couldn’t do anything but wait until the show ends.
When it does, he tries calling and texting her but he gets no replies in return. He grows desperate and immediately rushes to her dorm without having any further thoughts on the consequences of his action. He knows someone might see him and question why he is at a girl's dorm in the middle of the night; he knows well that her manager is going to kick him out (it wouldn't be the first time either) but he is adamant to see her. He needs to make sure she is okay. And that is how he winds up outside her balcony, tapping on the glass door a few times.
Her eyes widen in shock when she slides the door open and before she could ask him anything, he pulls her into his arms. He kisses the side of her face, the tip of her head and cradles her face in his palms, frowning at her tear streaked face. She looks up at him and he knows she is trying hard to put on a brave face, holding her tears back because she promised him she would try and be strong.
“How did you get here?”
“Through the fire escape stairs,” his thumb caressing her cheeks, “I needed to make sure you’re alright.”
She is silent and he lets her have her moment.
“Do you think I’m beautiful?” she chokes out in a strained voice.
“Of course you are.”
“But I’m not…” She blinks and a number of tears escape, she tries to bite back the sobs but her body is trembling in his hold.
“Everything in this world is beautiful.”
“But what about worms… worms are disgusting.”
He chuckles.
“What about caterpillars? They turn into butterflies.”
“Butterflies are prettier,” she buries her face into his chest; she cries and cries. He hates it when she cries. He often likes to think about the little bits about her that makes him happy, but when she cries he couldn’t seem to find anything that he likes about it. He hates that she is insecure. He hates that she doesn’t see how beautiful she is. He hates that she doesn’t let him in through the walls she’s built. He hates that she is too often reticent when it comes to her feelings.
“Let it out,” he whispers, like he always does.
“Why can’t I be like butterflies,” she mumbles in between sobs and whimpers, “and fly away. Be carefree and beautiful.”
“You can’t because I want to be selfish and hold you in my arms.”
Let it go, let it go.
But please… don’t let me go.
She lets him go.
He knows he has to respect her decision and give her the time she needs but he begs. He begs because he loves her too much to let her go. He begs because he hates not being able to help her through the hardships she is going through. He begs because he wants to fight her demons with her; he wants to fight them off and fill her with love and nothing but. He stops begging when she screams for him to stop.
He spends the rest of the day afterwards, waiting and wondering how she is. He hopes he remembers she is beautiful because he is not able to remind her.
Beneath the colorful neon lights and the waves of screaming fan, he looks up at the stage from the seat specially reserved for him and his band mates. Whilst almost every single person in the stadium chants, Kara, Kara, Kara… he is silent as his eyes focuses on a certain member, Jung Nicole. The line of his lips twitch but he is unsure if he is allowed to smile when all he feels is dark and hollow on the inside.
She dances gracefully with so much passion surrounding her. And when she unconsciously licks her lower lip halfway through the performance, he knows she is trying to pace her breath. He knows her that well. Of course he does; all this while he’s been trying to memorize her like a favorite book. That is certainly something for a guy who does not fancy books all that much. He sees her eyes set upon him (or at least he would like to think they are) and he sees a twinkle in them before she looks away.
Beautiful, he admires and decides not even butterflies can top her beauty. He wants to remind her, but he knows everyone in the stadium today will. He hopes she doesn’t ever forget.
She shines on stage, where she truly belongs, praised for her dancing skills and he is okay with that.
Fly away, butterfly. Away and away.
He lets her go.
(and now he starts counting for the day she comes back)
2556 words ; pg ; angst (jaejin/nicole)
he likes to remind her because she always forgets.
a/n: I was inspired by this song and also an article I read not too long ago about Nicole ranking lowest in terms of looks among Kara (I disagree). And combined with my love for this pairing... and then yeah, this product out of severe writer's block happened...
Nicole lies in the warmth and comforts of Jaejin’s slender arms interweaved around her small frame, inhaling scents of combined perfumes with the sound of nature filling the silent, still air of the night. He buries his nose into the tip of her head, eyes closed and breathes, nostril tickled by the smell of shampoo (something fruity, something that buries the dried sweat in results of her dance rehearsals a few hours before). He remains muted as he listens to the sound of her humming to a tune he is not familiar with. Though it didn’t really matter to him; he has always loved the sound coming out of her mouth. Her soft, delicate voice reminds him of a tinkling wind chime, the whistle of the breeze on a windy day; a sound that soothes him.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers in a tone so low, as if exchanging a sweet secret.
(He likes to remind her once in a while; he knows she tends to forget.)
He feels drops of wet (soon he recognizes as tears) lands and tingles his skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I--” he shushes her when she begins to choke out the same words over and over between her sobs. He whispers ‘everything will be okay’ and ‘I’m here’, plants a soft yet love empowered kiss on her temple with dear comforting words to get her by. He holds her tighter when she trembles and tries to escape from his grip. He doesn’t let go.
Let it go, let it go, he tells her.
“Your room is so messy,” she complains; her back on the mattress and eyes fixated on the ceiling. He watches her blink, blink and blink, wondering what else is on her mind as she stares into the boring, but with glow in the dark stars messily scattered upon, ceiling.
“I know,” he finally answers, shifting his attention back to the guitar he is supporting on his lap.
“It’s cramped too.”
He smiles and repeats with an ‘I know’. His fingers plucking the strings; slowly running through each four of them but his mind is nowhere concentrated on his bass. It is still somehow distracted by thoughts of her. She continues to complain about his room, his dorm and about almost everything but he listens. He likes to listen to her voice. He likes listening to whatever it is that she has in the little box inside her head. He likes it when she lets all the words out.
“I love you,” he decides to interrupt her ramblings.
She pauses and he knows her cheeks are heating up. He likes that, he likes knowing that he has that kind of effect on her. He places his guitar aside carefully before standing up, making his way towards her. She glances at him, cheeks painted with a light shade of pink and a precious smile gracing her lips. He loves her smile, so much as being the reason behind the smile. Her smile radiates--he knows because all his eyes could see right now is the curve on her lips and everything else around him is black and unseen.
He drops onto what little small space left on the bed beside her and entwines her into an embrace; whispers those three words time and again with kisses in between. A mellifluous giggle burbles past her lips and he smiles when their noses touch.
“You’re so beautiful, Nicole.”
(He likes to remind her. He knows she always forgets.)
She looks down, avoiding his gaze but he notices her lips trembling. He tightens his hold around her, lovingly caressing and with every single touch he wants to tell her that he cares, that he is always there for her. He hopes she feels it and whispers honey and buttercups into her ears.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry; he hears her chant but he tells her everything is alright.
“I’m a mess,” she blubbers, her face buried and hidden into her palms, refusing to comply when he tries to pull them away. He wants to wipe the tears, he wants to kiss them away but she keeps crying and crying.
He wants to tell her she’s beautiful, she’s still beautiful even when she’s in such a state. But he lets the words reverberate in his head instead and remains silent as he presses a kiss on her forehead. He wishes she would let the demons in her head out, let it all out just like how she complains about his room, his dorm and almost everything. He is willing to listen but she thinks he wouldn’t understand.
Let it go, let it go, the only words he could tell her.
Let me in, the words he does not.
He has his eyes closed as he rests his head on her lap, allowing her fingers to twirl and twist through, leaving him in a messy mop of hair. His forehead creases, wincing once or twice whenever her fingers would get stuck between his locks. She would end up laughing when she accidentally pulls out at least two or three strands from his head when she pries her fingers away almost too quickly. He wants to tell her to be gentler but he doesn’t; he is okay with that. He likes it when she’s happy, above all.
“Jaejinnie, your hair is so dry,” she comments, tracing and inspecting his locks closely.
He sighs with an ‘I know’. And then his eyes flutters open when he hears her gasp all of the sudden.
“Look at all these ones with split ends!” is what comes out of her mouth and he chuckles, a little relieved. She is always so dramatic about everything but he doesn’t mind. At least he knows that she cares. “I liked it when you were blonde,” she suddenly says, enclosing his neck around her arms and rests her face next to his.
“Do you still love me even if my hair’s not blonde right now?” he asks, well aware of how childish the question sounded.
She hums what sounds like a yes in reply and mumbles an ‘I love you’ when she kisses his cheek. He likes it when she tells him she loves him, her lips against his skin, so much as them being on his lips. He turns his head and locks their lips together, thinking of how much he likes-no, loves kissing her. He likes the taste of her and he likes how soft her lips feel. He doesn’t see fireworks as deemed in the movies when their lips are conjoined; all he sees is black when he has his eyes closed. He does not see, but he feels. He feels the love that he has for her boiling inside his heart. He feels the love surging out and through, intensifying the kiss. She has this kind of effect on him and he does not mind. Everything they do together sends tingles down his skin like it’s the first time, only with much more passion. He does not mind the butterflies dancing in his stomach. He wants to tell her how he strongly feels towards her, he feels that she needs to know but he can’t seem to find the right words to do his feelings justice. He tries to arrange words in his head but all he ends up saying is:
“You’re so beautiful, Nicole,” he whispers into the kiss.
(Maybe if he says this enough, she will believe him.)
He holds her close when the tears start streaming down her cheeks. He does not let her cover her face this time because he wants to wipe the tears away for her; he does just that. He kisses each of her cheeks, again and again, cooing affectionate whispers as he touches her and vows to make her feel better.
Let me in, is stuck in his throat.
Let it go, let it go.
On days when their schedules do not permit them from seeing each other, he finds himself spending his spare time practicing with the television on, just in case her face comes on (it does, occasionally). He enjoys watching a three minute long music video of hers (if he’s lucky enough to catch it) in between TV shows intervals because he misses her when they are not together and doing just this is quite enough. This is enough to get him by.
He slumps his body into the couch, lazily plucking the guitar as he stares at the television screen. Eyes threatening to close, the result from the long busy day he has had that day.
“Oh boy, hyung, you look pathetic,” he feels the couch shake when Minhwan flops down beside him, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “I heard Kara’s guest starring in this… hold on,” the younger trails off, channel surfing before finally stopping at a channel, “this show.” he finishes with a grin of satisfaction over the fact that his guess was right. He gestures towards the show, currently broadcasting live.
Jaejin straightens up, his eyes a little wider now.
“You look better now, hyung,” Minhwan teases, lightly elbowing him in his rib. He dismisses the drummer with a chuckle and focuses onto the show, inwardly wishing Nicole had more screen time.
“Let’s talk about Nicole-ssi next,” the MC’s voice echoed across the room, the camera focusing on a smiling Nicole. “Nicole-ssi is really pretty in my opinion,” the MC continues and she breaks into a giggle, smiling shyly as she claps her hands.
As if instinctively, Jaejin smiles too. He likes it when he sees her blush and attempt to cover it with a giggle. Or how she would cover her mouth with the back of her palm and her eyes would crinkle into crescents; how she would bite her lower lip and the small mole beneath her lips stands out. He likes paying attention on those little details of hers.
“But Nicole-ssi always ranks last when it comes to looks in Kara members,” that is when he sees her lips twitch and he frowns. He can see the flash of dejection in her eyes when her self confidence plummets down but she covers it well with a smile, although this one didn’t quite reach her eyes. He curses under his breath for the fact that this topic is still going on and he swears he would punch the MC in the face, if only he was there at the moment but he knows he couldn’t do anything but wait until the show ends.
When it does, he tries calling and texting her but he gets no replies in return. He grows desperate and immediately rushes to her dorm without having any further thoughts on the consequences of his action. He knows someone might see him and question why he is at a girl's dorm in the middle of the night; he knows well that her manager is going to kick him out (it wouldn't be the first time either) but he is adamant to see her. He needs to make sure she is okay. And that is how he winds up outside her balcony, tapping on the glass door a few times.
Her eyes widen in shock when she slides the door open and before she could ask him anything, he pulls her into his arms. He kisses the side of her face, the tip of her head and cradles her face in his palms, frowning at her tear streaked face. She looks up at him and he knows she is trying hard to put on a brave face, holding her tears back because she promised him she would try and be strong.
“How did you get here?”
“Through the fire escape stairs,” his thumb caressing her cheeks, “I needed to make sure you’re alright.”
She is silent and he lets her have her moment.
“Do you think I’m beautiful?” she chokes out in a strained voice.
“Of course you are.”
“But I’m not…” She blinks and a number of tears escape, she tries to bite back the sobs but her body is trembling in his hold.
“Everything in this world is beautiful.”
“But what about worms… worms are disgusting.”
He chuckles.
“What about caterpillars? They turn into butterflies.”
“Butterflies are prettier,” she buries her face into his chest; she cries and cries. He hates it when she cries. He often likes to think about the little bits about her that makes him happy, but when she cries he couldn’t seem to find anything that he likes about it. He hates that she is insecure. He hates that she doesn’t see how beautiful she is. He hates that she doesn’t let him in through the walls she’s built. He hates that she is too often reticent when it comes to her feelings.
“Let it out,” he whispers, like he always does.
“Why can’t I be like butterflies,” she mumbles in between sobs and whimpers, “and fly away. Be carefree and beautiful.”
“You can’t because I want to be selfish and hold you in my arms.”
Let it go, let it go.
But please… don’t let me go.
She lets him go.
He knows he has to respect her decision and give her the time she needs but he begs. He begs because he loves her too much to let her go. He begs because he hates not being able to help her through the hardships she is going through. He begs because he wants to fight her demons with her; he wants to fight them off and fill her with love and nothing but. He stops begging when she screams for him to stop.
He spends the rest of the day afterwards, waiting and wondering how she is. He hopes he remembers she is beautiful because he is not able to remind her.
Beneath the colorful neon lights and the waves of screaming fan, he looks up at the stage from the seat specially reserved for him and his band mates. Whilst almost every single person in the stadium chants, Kara, Kara, Kara… he is silent as his eyes focuses on a certain member, Jung Nicole. The line of his lips twitch but he is unsure if he is allowed to smile when all he feels is dark and hollow on the inside.
She dances gracefully with so much passion surrounding her. And when she unconsciously licks her lower lip halfway through the performance, he knows she is trying to pace her breath. He knows her that well. Of course he does; all this while he’s been trying to memorize her like a favorite book. That is certainly something for a guy who does not fancy books all that much. He sees her eyes set upon him (or at least he would like to think they are) and he sees a twinkle in them before she looks away.
Beautiful, he admires and decides not even butterflies can top her beauty. He wants to remind her, but he knows everyone in the stadium today will. He hopes she doesn’t ever forget.
She shines on stage, where she truly belongs, praised for her dancing skills and he is okay with that.
Fly away, butterfly. Away and away.
He lets her go.
(and now he starts counting for the day she comes back)