#none of you understand how much a foggy morning will improve my mood

[the-jellyfish-graves]

Foggy Morning

I think of you like a foggy morning – your presence almost always unexpected yet delightful. You work me into a soft joy that I hide within a screen of mist so dense, unwittingly disguising affection and making it indecipherable to my eyes. I think of you like a foggy morning – settling over me and in my lungs when I am lost inside you. You cloud my eyes, shield me from the sun that threatens my head, and offer me some play – the chance to become a monster, all blood and teeth and torment falling from my lips. I think of you (often) like a foggy morning (in the colder months) – subconsciously waiting for you to come to me.

[minyoonmeme]

Redolent

Word count: 1494

Pairing: Jhope/Jung Hoseok x reader/OC 

Description: Redolent - strongly reminiscent or suggestive of (something)

Genre/Warnings: very sad and very angsty (I got a little emotional writing this, oh gosh)

[See author’s note as the end, please] 

masterlist

To, My Sweet Angel

I feel dull. My ears ring from the grey static bouncing off the walls. My hands ache from the cold, no sufficient source of heat able to insulate the missing warmth. Had the cold always stung? My eyes and head are dotted with dizzying spells as I sway and attempt to clear the fogginess of my sadness. My feet, although stiff and pained, continue to dance. It’s a forced two-step filled with hiccups and short fits of uncontrollable sobs. A slow regression of minor notes has taken over the once lively accompaniment. My ears ring, but I can hear the haunting cadence of D minor. A key so soul-stirring, Schubart, a German Poet, once claimed it was a key “of brooding despair, of blackest depression, of the most gloomy condition of the soul.” Oh, how correct he was.

My suffering is not all for naught, for eventually, with time, I will learn that my feet will only add to the despair around me. Any melody was better than none at all, perhaps.

Eventually, a routine is set and so the dance continues.

My lips sip at the same mug filled with coffee every morning. The carpet still receives the same brutal dragging of feet as I force myself back and forth between the empty apartment, trying to ready myself for another day. I learn to memorize a routine from before. It’s new and familiar all at once. 

Months go by and the dance becomes easier. My feet no longer remain planted and instead have found a slow progression of turns. But turning makes my body ache and creates a dizzy haze. My feet have twice now developed rug burns as I get excited and twirl more than I am able to do so. Eventually, however, I collapse. There are hands set to catch me, but they remind me of you too much and I find myself wishing they would’ve just let me fall. Let my bones feel the same burn my feet do everyday. 

I expect their hands to retreat and for me to stagger, but they stay. Firm and sure despite everything. They hold no pressure, but serve only as a gentle reminder of company. Of care. I try to shake them off, but they are firm and steady. My faint grip proves fruitless, and I continue to let them guide me. I am delicate within their hold, as they never push nor pull too hard on my frail form. They’ve given me a new dance and are kind enough to guide me through it as I stagger. Eventually, I’ll grow attached to the feeling of someone being near, and find the strength to return their hold. One day, may we hold each other up. One day, I will not be a dead weight for their arms. One day, I will them and myself in a waltz set upon marble where we may glide with the burn.

Times proves me correct once again.. 

I do learn to stand on my own… only to feel my knees collapse once more beneath me.. 

What would you think of me? So weak and helpless, nothing like the person you had once known. My appearance has faltered from what you once knew, from what you had once deemed beautiful and kind. The dancing has halted to a complete stop, and the only sound that echoes from me is the sound of my own deafening sobs and painful hiccups. It causes a pain in my chest too deep to just be from my wailing. The dissonance continues once again as I claw numbly at the hollow spot where my heart used to lay. Rain swallows my form as I wallow in the bitter saltiness. 

I feel hands return once more in my time of need, and I try this time to keep them from me. I cry harder and swing wildly at the pressing form. Do they not understand that I don’t want their hands? They’re too large, too warm, and too suffocating. They are not your hands. They will never be your hands. Never again. 

“Let me go!” I beat against them screaming. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, let go! You fucking piece of shit…” My voice chokes and I find myself heaving against their chest desperately. My throat aches from screaming, leaving my mouth to silently open and close as I let the rain pour once more, this time over the two of us. How long had it been since i last heard another’s heart beat? How long has it been since I last heard yours?

Their strength proves to be enough for the both of us once again as they lift my drenched form onto wobbly legs. they know that I’m weak, that if I try to stand I will fall, so they hold me; but, it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. The air feels too harsh, children’s cries overpower laugher and the sun sets too earlier. Every cliché feels real and everything is too much once again. Every color has faded to match my dull mood despite the copious amount of stimulation running through my mind. 

Someone runs their hand through my hair and hushes over my silent crying. The night greets me sweeter than the sun, and I gladly retreat under the stars. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper to no one after they’ve left for but a moment. “I don’t want to be weak anymore.” I need you. 

My shoulders shake as I begin to cry again, but my upper body is stuffed between a pair of arms around me. They know the dance well, but my shoes have filled with the bitter rain and weigh down my legs. My bare feet still feel the rawness from my previous lonesome dance. But together, we move. It’s different from before and my body screams in agony, but I let him lead. I let the dance continue because I do not know how to. 

Would you scowl and disapprove of our clumsy movements? It’s nothing compared to your skillful movements of grace and love and care. It’s nothing compared to our dance. A waltz unlike another other filled with hundreds of sympathies and years of practice that if I look hard enough, can still see our tracks along the carpet in the living room. Perhaps, if you saw our dance, our flimsy excuse of a dance, you could come back under some miracle. I always thought you had some sort of magical ability with the way you smiled fluttered about our home. They are not you, no one could ever compare my dear, but they help me live and keep me afloat. I can continue with them. I hope you can forgive me for continuing without you with another. 

The music changes when they hold me upright once more, and I can keep the rain at bay longer than before. Together we shift from a minor to major and raise the tempo to something more lively. It’s not entirely too happy of a melody, but it leaves me humming nonetheless. 

Inside I am sure they know I am comparing the two dances, but they say nothing. I stumble in our new dance, falling into our old forgotten one by mistake, but they only gather my hands while silently guiding me back to them once more. They are kinder than I deserve, but I say nothing selfishly absorbing every contact and movement.

They remind me of you in many ways and I suppose that’s why I let them linger for so long. they care for others just as you had, and smiles for my sake despite my actions inflicting their pure heart at times. I don’t mean to hurt them, but you’ve strung yourself deep within the walls of my heart that it’s hard to look past the intricate woven patterns. One day I will back and apologize for using their kindness to better myself. And one day I know they will respond with only more love. Love I am not sure I am deserving of, but love I will accept nonetheless. You would want that wouldn’t you?

With time I know I will improve. I will continue to dance for you, but this time with someone else. I hope you will forgive me for this, but know that I am happy. That one day I will be very happy. I will smile for you, showing the world what was once a smile as blinding as the sun. My eyes will continue to search for you as I hold onto someone else, and I hope you don't hold too much hate in your heart for me when we see each other again. I can not wait to see you. I can not wait to hold you and see your smile without feeling as if I am piercing my own chest. I miss you. I will always miss you, my dear. 

With more love than you could imagine, 

Your Love.

Notes: Hey guys, Happy New Year! This one was a little sad, but I wrote this to cope with a lost loved one who committed suicide in January a couple of years ago. January has been a little hard for me ever since then, so I felt like I needed to express that somehow rather than keeping it in. This is meant to be a little vague and open for you guys to imagine who is writing this and what’s happened, however. I wanted this to express the pain of trying to “move on” and cope with losing someone or something. If you or someone you know is having a hard time, please reach out to someone let them know they’re being thought of and loved or that you need someone.