#songs are stay away from my friends pierce the veil. caught in the middle by paramore.

[butchlifeguard]

hiiii >:D

waking up yr neighbors downstairs

i can't think of getting old

he said he wanted to

lets take the boat out on the bay

we're scanning the scene in the city tonight

[k-p-p-d]

Stay: Think About You (A)

Pairing: Jisoo x Male OC (feat. Bobby)

Summary: Jamal knew breaking up would be difficult, but he knew she would be better off for it.  What he didn’t know was how he’d ever be able to keep himself from ever regretting letting her go...

Length: 2k

A/N: Listen to this while you read! @blackinkfics This has been a year in the making and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to a point where I felt comfortable enough to post it.  I’m also sorry that this is how far I’ve gotten in all this time, but I hope it lives up to your expectations.  Ily~ #LongLiveJJ

                                                     Jisoo POV

Jamal stared blankly at his phone. The screen was still aglow with the notification of a received message, allowing his eyes to fixate on the name he tried so desperately to keep out of his heart and off his tongue. God, he knew he shouldn't have thought of her. He knew it. But he had and in a cruel twist of fate she had made her unwelcomed but desperately craved grand entrance into his isolated world with a text.

His conscience was torn straight down the middle. He didn't want to open it because he didn't know if he was ready to have a conversation with her just yet; if he was being honest with himself, he really didn't want to try to talk to her. But what if he didn't open it? Would she realize he was purposefully ignoring her? Would she be further hurt by him? Would she never try to speak to him again, and would spurn all his future attempts to strike up a conversation when he was ready? But what if he did open it? Would he be hurt by what she said? Would he be forced to defend himself against her well-deserved but still painful attack? Would he have to break her heart again by cutting short her attempts of reconciliation, give her some bullshit and noncommittal answer to make it seem as if he was significantly more unaffected than he was? What if he was the one who tried to reconcile but she shunned him? What if, what if, what if?

Those two words and the countless possible outcomes they preceded echoed loudly through his head, only drowned out by the pounding of his aching heart. He snatched off his hoodie and threw on his headphones. Tapping the side of the ear cuff, he silently thanked the Lord for wireless technology as the song began to play without him ever sliding open his phone. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, surrendering himself to gently crescendoing song. He couldn't help but wonder if she still used this trick like he had taught her so long ago. The bright image of her smiling appreciatively at him as she thanked him, her beautiful voice ringing through his ears and making his heart soar. Jamal grunted as his eyes flew open, "Channel it!" With the first drop of the hard beat, he flung soul first into the music and he let himself be consumed by the banging deep bass. With every powerful move, he roughly shoved aside his haunted thoughts. With every sharp hit, he sliced through his pervasive regrets. With every precise step, he chased away his conscience until he was blissfully numb, only sensitive to the familiar ache surging through his exhausted muscles.

It wasn't until he was stooped over and dripping with sweat that he felt the presence of someone else in the room with him. A pang of bitter disappointment pierced his heart as his eyes met familiar grinning slants sparked with amusement. But they weren't those of his dazzling starlight. "You gonna keep staring or come up here, big boy?" Jiwon teased, waggling his eyebrows and poking out his tongue.

Jamal groaned loudly, unceremoniously dropping onto the edge of the oversized bed. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing," came the response with its shoddy veil of feigned innocence sliding off each word.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't."

"So you're saying I shouldn't send you this dope ass beat for you to dance your girl problems away--"

The elder snappily interjected, "I don't have girl problems."

Jiwon shook his head, "No, you don't have a girl. But you got 99 problems and a--"

"Watch it," Jamal growled fiercely.

"--chick is the source of all of them. Jeez, lemme finish talking at least once, will you?"

"You're a lot more respectful when we're in Korea," the exhausted dancer griped, allowing himself to slip from Korean to English as his brain was too worn to properly translate.

"That's because we're usually surrounded by 50 million other people and a shit ton of cameras," Jiwon pointed out in English before tacking on a quick, "hyung."

"True," the dancer conceded as he lay back onto the uncomfortably soft bed. His eyelids drooped to a close and he lay there for a few moments just listening to his breath while Jiwon tapped away on his phone. "So," he flipped over onto his stomach, "are you going to play this beat for me or just hog my bed instead?"

The rapper lightly flicked his shoulder with his foot and stuck out his tongue, cheekily quipping, "You should be happy to have a body in your bed!" Jamal snorted derisively, a habit he hadn't realized he'd picked up from Jis--

Her.

He shook his head as if to erase the name he almost thought. If he said the name, the pain he had been trying so desperately hard to beat back and ignore would rear its ugly head and rip the sloppy stitches of time and distance from his still-bleeding heart. So it would always have to be simply "her" until he could no longer recall the sensations of her silken raven hair twisted around his fingertips. Or until the sounds of her voice stumbling over his name no longer made his breath hitch and eyes prick hotly with tears. Or until he could look at himself in the mirror without seeing the pain and confusion and loss in her eyes glaring back at him.  "Ass," he mumbled bitterly to himself as he pushed himself off the bed to retrieve his phone, the closest thing he could hold that directly linked him to her.

Luckily, Jiwon mistook who the comment was directed towards and defensively shouted, "Hey! Just because I have a great ass doesn't mean you get to call me one!"

With a roll of his eyes, the elder dismissively retorted, "Your ass is flatter than your chest so chill out."

"That's not what my fans say..."

"The ceiling fan doesn't count."

"Asshole."

"Dickhead."

"Shitface."

"Ugly bunny ass, gapped tooth ass, head ass, fake punk ass, weak ass, lame ass--"

Jiwon clutched his chest and whined, "Shit, man! That was below the belt. Why you gotta roast me that hard? What did I ever do to you to deserve such hate?" Jamal's eyes scrunched shut and his cheeks bunched upwards as his mouth fell open in laughter, head tilting back involuntarily as howls of laughter ripped through him. Jiwon beamed brightly as he watched his friend finally laugh so fully for the first time in what felt like eons. He'd really missed this sound. He knew it was already hard enough on Jisoo to go through this split, so he could only imagine how rough it was for the man before him to pretend he was alright despite so clearly still being completely in love with the woman whose heart he willingly broke to save.

Jiwon cupped his hand on Jamal's shoulder, making the elder look at him with misty eyes from laughing so hard, before he brought him into a tight bear hug. The aftershocks of laughter causing the dancer's strong shoulders to tremble faded into quiet sobs of loneliness. The younger man held him much tighter than before and began gently rocking him hack and forth. "Let it out, hyung," He mumbled softly. "Let it all out." 

Amidst his tears, Jamal hiccuped, "Y-y-you're supposed to tell me not to cry."

Jiwon shrugged, the movement causing Jamal's head to rise and fall, "Nah. That's some macho bullshit old, wrinkly ass men like to spout because some even older, more wrinkly assed men used to repress them by telling them that."

"Smart ass," came the harmless quip in response. Jiwon only chuckled, loosening his grip on the older so he could step back and look at him. Jamal wiped away the  sniffled, "Thank you, Bobby."

"Any time, bro." The two men sprawled across the bed once more, but something caught the younger's eyes. "Hey, hyung?"

"Yeah?"

"You've been clutching your phone hella hard. Did you get some nudes or something?" Despite his attempt to make his friend smile again, Jiwon watched a crestfallen grimace pull across his lips. "Oh."

"She texted me, but I can't open it. I just...it's too hard and there's too many what-if's and I've already hurt so much and I don't wanna be hurt and I'm scared I'll make things worse but I'm damned if i do and damned if I don't and I'm just--"

Jiwon interrupted, "Then don't open it."

"What?"

The younger shifted so he was eye-level with his friend. "Don't open it. Knowing Jisoo," Jamal flenched at the mention of her name, "she isn't expecting an immediate reply. She probably isn't expecting anything for a couple of days or so. She likely had something on her mind that she needed to voice right then and there or else it would've eaten her alive. You know I'm right so don't stress about it. Open it when you're ready." With that, he eased the phone out of the other's tight grip and tossed it to the other side of the room as he stood up. "Now, you need to get some sleep. We've got a concert tomorrow and I'll be damned if your old ass makes me look bad."

Jamal snorted, "Those shitty ass, fake ass dreads you got do that enough as is.  I'm only 25."

"First of all, that's old as shit. Second of all, Taeyang-hyung said they looked cool-"

Jamal tossed back, "You really gonna trust him considering those tattered yarn strands he called dreads were blocking his eyes half the time? I know yaki hair works best for fake locs; but damn, homie really looked like a whole yak."

Jiwon self-consciously reached up to pat his hair, which luckily was no longer twisted together in fake locs; though the sting of the verbal dragging he just endured still hurt. "Well, shit, Jamal. Tell us how you really feel next time."

Smirking, Jamal held open the door, "Gladly. Now get outta my room, dumb ass."

"Last time I ever cuddle you," Jiwon mumbled bitterly under his breath as he left.

Jamal rolled his eyes and retrieved his phone; he stared at the screen for a couple moments then brazenly unlocked it before his mind could further rationalize the decision.

“Are you home?”

Jamal deflated, releasing the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. She had forgotten he was on tour now. He didn't know what hurt more: The fact she had forgotten about him or that he couldn't be there with her now. He read the message again, trying to come up with a perfect response that would neither hurt her nor reveal how lonely he also was. But maybe... Maybe he was missing some deeper meaning she had meant for him to glean from it. That had to be it, otherwise this gaping chasm in his soul would only grow wider and wider until it consumed him wholly and drowned out any chances of happiness he might have someday. 

“Are you home?” could easily mean, "When can I see you again?" Or perhaps, “Do you still think of me?" Or maybe even, "Do you miss me as much as I miss you?" Or, if he squinted just right, "You're always on my mind, day and night, hour after hour, minute after minute."

But there was nothing else to it. It was just a straight forward question: "Are you home?"

That was it. That was the message. That was all that was said. No "hi," no "how are you," no "I miss you," no "I hate you," no "why did you do this to me," no "I forgive you," no "I'll never forgive you," no "I'll never give up on you," no "I love you," no "do you still love me because I love you."

It was all too much to bear so he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, drowning out the cracking of his heart to the sharp synths and crisps beats of the track Jiwon had crafted for him. Slowly, he left himself slip away into a restless sleep.  Maybe one day, he’d wake up and his heart would heart less...

—Admin Lily

[distortedaura-blog]

Just a Story...

“Sometimes you have to stop still in order to move on,

Sometimes the songs you hear are just the songs of your own,

Sometimes you can’t be the one to fall apart,

Sometimes you have to pain your body to numb the one in your heart.”

Has it really been ten years?

Ten years without her?

He turned the question around in his mind for the hundredth time. Outside, the winter sun had long since set, the greyish sheen of fog visible through the window.

Friendship- they say, is a fragile thing, handle with care. But care was the only thing that had always eluded him. He couldn’t see her the second time they met. They were separated by a thick veil, dark as obsidian.

And then again, he couldn’t see the tiny crack that had appeared in their friendship. It had come silently through the shades of time and like a single drop of venom that races down the veins , it had shattered all ties. The glass sculpture bore a gaping hole.

He’d tried to shrug it off, to soldier on manfully- because hey, that was the only thing Robert Frost and seven years in Afghanistan had taught him- Life. Goes. On.

He still remembers her laugh, her high-pitched voice that used to chatter so cheerfully, about her dreams about ‘their’ future. Their.

As a child, Kabir was THE bad boy of their middle-class neighborhood. Always the one to get into fights and brawls, the first one out in the streets during Holi, the first guy to yell around celebrating another of India’s thrashing of Pakistan.

Aditi was not his opposite. Hell, this isn’t one of those clichéd good-girl-falls-for-bad-boy type sappy romances. Rather, she was his partner-in-crime. With three piercings in each ear and a shocking red bandanna, she was the sort of girl parents warned their children to steer clear of.

He remembered the time they had sneaked up to Mahesh uncle’s house to pinch laddoos. She had clutched his hand and said, “Don’t leave me if we get caught.”  

“Nah”, He’d replied with an arrogant smirk, “I’ll marry you and hitch you along.”

The next day they had both fallen sick from a laddoo overdose.

Kair went off to join the army when he was eighteen. The locality was relieved. His visits to his parents, thrice a year were not looked forward to. Kabir’s parents died a couple of years later, and his visits stopped altogether.

The bad boy of the para was gone. With newer thugs baring their fangs, the bad boy legend of the neighborhood crawled into a tiny hellhole to die a quiet death.

He came back though, exactly three years later, with a limp replacing the spring in his step, and an inexplicable hollowness usurping the glimmer in his eyes.

Aditi had had her own generous share of misfortunes. She’d been through a failed marriage- with her in-laws brutally punishing her for the double-D crimes –too little dowry and too many daughters.

With her two daughters she had come back to her father’s house, and here’s where she met Kabir again. She had never thought that they’d meet again. Because hey, this sort of reunions- meeting your childhood….. love after all these years, it happens only in movies and fairy tales, and the tomboy in her thirties knew that whatever her life might have been, it was certainly not a fairy tale.

Fate had smiled at her. Not the kind, generous type. But the one your enemy has when he knows he has trapped your heart- just a little force and it’ll break again. She got back Kabir and that year itself- on Dussera, her father bid this world a sad goodbye.

I know what you’re thinking- what the hell? Is this story all about death? Man this is so so depressing.

My friend here’s the truth- Life is nothing more than a sugar-coated lie. A bitter pill, that reeks of poison and invariably kills you in the end.

In the fading light of dusk, he tightly held on to her as they stood before the funeral pyre, his other hand clasping the four-year old Aisha. Little Zara was  fast asleep in her mother’s arms, blissfully unaware of the teardrops falling on her face. The four of them were standing together. Everything had felt so right right then. But all Kabir could see was an endless ocean of black. The light of this world had long since left his eyes.

He knew he couldn’t be the one to fall apart. He had to stop his tears because he had to wipe hers. He couldn’t show his emotions because someone stupid had once said-“Boys don’t cry.”

Aditi did not stay for long either. Leaving four-year old aisha and ten months old Zara in his hands, she too took her leave. Leukemia, she knew she had it coming.

And there she was- a member of the stars. The miracle he kept hoping for never really arrived. Ten years have passed since then.

He exhaled and looked out of the window. A storm was brewing. Winds blew hard, someone hit a six in the alley- for the sound of breaking glass was preceded by cheers and followed by neighboring auntie’s ear-splitting yells. Earlier, he used to be on the receiving side.

The ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. The dull throb in his chest was starting to become a permanent ache. He opened a drawer and pulled out a yellowed, well-thumbed sheet of paper and began reading for the umpteenth time.

Dear Kabir,

Can you forgive me?

He laid the letter on the desk. His throat ached, making it difficult to breathe. The overhead light was making a strange prism of his unbidden tears. Composing himself, he started again.

In a world that I seldom understand, there are winds of destiny that blow when we least expect them. Sometimes they gust with the fury of a hurricane; sometimes they barely fan one’s cheek. But they often do bring a future that is impossible to ignore.

I was wrong. Wrong, to ignore what was obvious. Like a cautious

traveler, I tried to protect myself from the wind and lost my soul instead.

I was a fool to let you go, for in the evenings when a storm came raging and Aisha used to cry, I wanted you to be the one holding us tightly together.

When Ved died, I wanted you to be the one comforting me. Is it possible that you know how I feel without you? When I dream, I like to think you do.

We were destined to be together.

But alone in my house, I have come to realize that destiny can also hurt a person, and I wonder why—out of all the people in all the world I could ever have loved—I had to fall in love with someone who went far far away. If this letter ever finds you Kabir, just know that I have and will always love you.

Aditi.

She gave him something he’d treasure forever. Sighing, he looked into the window panes, and from the misty reflections- Aditi’s eyes stared back at me.