Epiphany
Name: Epiphany
Pairing: Sungmin-centric, !bandfic, and a bit of a _____.
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
The pounding of rain on the roof reverberated through the room. He looks outside the window, mesmerized by the sudden white flash of lightning seen through the glass, before he walks across the room to pick up his guitar on the corner.
The rain lashed louder, like a thousand needles darting towards the earth; the booming thunder providing the background music.
He sits on his bed. Strums a few chords.
Somehow, the thunderclaps sound more melodious than the supposed music coming out of the instrument.
He heaves out a sigh and tries playing some notes again. It came out jumbled. Scattered. Useless.
He puts the guitar down rather carelessly and rests his head on the headboard. One arm on his forehead and the other on his sanity.
And suddenly, like the downpour of cold rain on the battered pavement, the thoughts come rushing in.
Thirteen? One number more than a dozen. That's too much for one band. That's too much for anything. Thirteen means thirteen times the effort to do well. Thirteen times the need to excel and to make sure that you don't fall short of the other twelve. Thirteen means twelve is to one chances of being known. Adored. Loved.
He wasn't that much happy when the manager broke the news to him but what can he do? It's an exchange for all the things he has been dreaming of. He knows that his decision to pursue this is a gamble. And this is the price that he must pay. What is twelve more dreams very much like his own compared to the thousand nagging voices of his soul?
And before he knew it, he was in front of a hundred people. Dancing and singing with the other twelve for their first performance. Minds centered on one thought: to make these people love me. Love they did. And more.
The hundred became thousand. Hundreds of thousands. All pledging loyalty and love for Super Junior.
It wasn't as bad as he thought. For after months of being with the others, he concluded that thirteen also means thirteen times the fun, thirteen times the laughter, thirteen times the love and friendship and brotherhood.
But thirteen isn't thirteen now. Extra two were added. But three was taken away. And damn, that's still not equal to thirteen.
Somehow, the stage felt spacier. And the room, larger. Laughter is still heard but it bounces off walls, echoes too loudly, and dies too soon.
He should have seen it coming, he says to himself. It started with one and then two. There were promises of returning but they know they were holding on to something a little less palpable than the air touching on their skin. But when the third went away, so sudden that he, himself, sometimes think it's just a bad dream he has to wake up to, a certain gnawing feeling never left him.
For some reasons, he feels that the absence of the three is only the beginning. He can sense another figure fading away. HIM.
The feeling from four years ago came sprawling back. On trying too hard, faking smiles, and still feeling left out. He knows his twelve brothers felt that too which is why they tried so hard to make up for it by their love for each other. But they're not complete now. And it seems like it wouldn't be too long before they go their own separate ways.
What would become of him?
He stands up from the bed and picks up his phone. He dials a number he knows seldom gets busy. It has been a long time since he called this certain number and he catches himself surprised on how he still had it memorized.
He hears the phone ring. Once. Twice. He intends to put it down on the fourth ring but someone picks it up right before the third ring ends.
"Oppa?"
He keeps silent for a second. His sigh the only sound traveling from the device to the other part of god-knows-where. But the person on the other line seemed to understand the silence.
"I'll meet you in the old practice room."
"Sooyounggie..."
"Bring your guitar. See you!" she said cheerfully and then the line went dead.
Sungmin sighed as he put the phone down. Sooyoung ended the call so he wouldn't have a chance to object. He takes note of how she tried too hard to sound happy. AGAIN. She always does that when she feels someone else is feeling down. She tries too much and she does it too often that it almost seems natural. She does it too well but Sungmin can read through her. After all, they're both on the same boat, still struggling to get away from the shadows to reach the spot where the light shines freely.
He takes a coat of the rack, picks up his guitar and walks out of the room.
The rain still pounding hard on the roof.
-------
Sudden inspiration after watching the music bank vid. :( Minnie's been looking quite down these past few days. It breaks me to see him like that. :( I dropped a message on his twitter account, hoping to ease whatever he's feeling. I miss him. I miss the boys. Oh why is this happening? T_______T
btw, second part of this two-shot HERE.
Pairing: Sungmin-centric, !bandfic, and a bit of a _____.
Rating: G
Genre: Angst
The pounding of rain on the roof reverberated through the room. He looks outside the window, mesmerized by the sudden white flash of lightning seen through the glass, before he walks across the room to pick up his guitar on the corner.
The rain lashed louder, like a thousand needles darting towards the earth; the booming thunder providing the background music.
He sits on his bed. Strums a few chords.
Somehow, the thunderclaps sound more melodious than the supposed music coming out of the instrument.
He heaves out a sigh and tries playing some notes again. It came out jumbled. Scattered. Useless.
He puts the guitar down rather carelessly and rests his head on the headboard. One arm on his forehead and the other on his sanity.
And suddenly, like the downpour of cold rain on the battered pavement, the thoughts come rushing in.
Thirteen? One number more than a dozen. That's too much for one band. That's too much for anything. Thirteen means thirteen times the effort to do well. Thirteen times the need to excel and to make sure that you don't fall short of the other twelve. Thirteen means twelve is to one chances of being known. Adored. Loved.
He wasn't that much happy when the manager broke the news to him but what can he do? It's an exchange for all the things he has been dreaming of. He knows that his decision to pursue this is a gamble. And this is the price that he must pay. What is twelve more dreams very much like his own compared to the thousand nagging voices of his soul?
And before he knew it, he was in front of a hundred people. Dancing and singing with the other twelve for their first performance. Minds centered on one thought: to make these people love me. Love they did. And more.
The hundred became thousand. Hundreds of thousands. All pledging loyalty and love for Super Junior.
It wasn't as bad as he thought. For after months of being with the others, he concluded that thirteen also means thirteen times the fun, thirteen times the laughter, thirteen times the love and friendship and brotherhood.
But thirteen isn't thirteen now. Extra two were added. But three was taken away. And damn, that's still not equal to thirteen.
Somehow, the stage felt spacier. And the room, larger. Laughter is still heard but it bounces off walls, echoes too loudly, and dies too soon.
He should have seen it coming, he says to himself. It started with one and then two. There were promises of returning but they know they were holding on to something a little less palpable than the air touching on their skin. But when the third went away, so sudden that he, himself, sometimes think it's just a bad dream he has to wake up to, a certain gnawing feeling never left him.
For some reasons, he feels that the absence of the three is only the beginning. He can sense another figure fading away. HIM.
The feeling from four years ago came sprawling back. On trying too hard, faking smiles, and still feeling left out. He knows his twelve brothers felt that too which is why they tried so hard to make up for it by their love for each other. But they're not complete now. And it seems like it wouldn't be too long before they go their own separate ways.
What would become of him?
He stands up from the bed and picks up his phone. He dials a number he knows seldom gets busy. It has been a long time since he called this certain number and he catches himself surprised on how he still had it memorized.
He hears the phone ring. Once. Twice. He intends to put it down on the fourth ring but someone picks it up right before the third ring ends.
"Oppa?"
He keeps silent for a second. His sigh the only sound traveling from the device to the other part of god-knows-where. But the person on the other line seemed to understand the silence.
"I'll meet you in the old practice room."
"Sooyounggie..."
"Bring your guitar. See you!" she said cheerfully and then the line went dead.
Sungmin sighed as he put the phone down. Sooyoung ended the call so he wouldn't have a chance to object. He takes note of how she tried too hard to sound happy. AGAIN. She always does that when she feels someone else is feeling down. She tries too much and she does it too often that it almost seems natural. She does it too well but Sungmin can read through her. After all, they're both on the same boat, still struggling to get away from the shadows to reach the spot where the light shines freely.
He takes a coat of the rack, picks up his guitar and walks out of the room.
The rain still pounding hard on the roof.
-------
Sudden inspiration after watching the music bank vid. :( Minnie's been looking quite down these past few days. It breaks me to see him like that. :( I dropped a message on his twitter account, hoping to ease whatever he's feeling. I miss him. I miss the boys. Oh why is this happening? T_______T
btw, second part of this two-shot HERE.