What's a boy to do?
“To her, love is just a feeling of the moment
But no matter what, it is my life’s everything”
What’s a boy to do when he’s in Paris, the city of love?
Well, a piece of paper labelled "Kim Jonghyun’s schedule" dictates that said boy is to sing, dance and provide moments of fanservice to thousands of screaming fangirls for two nights in a row. And of course take a few photos for a magazine photoshoot near the Eiffel Tower.
Kim Jonghyun the boy, however, decides that he’s meant to wander the Parisian streets tonight, in as inconspicuous clothes as possible, cap worn low. Of course, that didn’t stop a few observant and very giggly French girls from noticing an Asian boy, strangely familiar to the one they had seen on the news for the past few nights, next to the headlines, “K-Pop Wave Sweeps Across Europe”.
Good thing he had his headphones over his ears, so he wouldn’t hear the giggles and grow more self-conscious than he already was.
Instead, he just dug his hands further into his jeans, thankfully not skinnies this time, and drooped his head lower.
“Replay, replay, replay”
The lyrics of the song playing on his iPod drifted slowly into his consciousness. Replay… he couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad idea.
He knew it was only a matter of time before TV stations, newspapers and the internet would joyfully herald the news. “Kim Jonghyun + Shin Sekyung = no more”.
Yup, that was probably it.
Oh, did he forget to mention? Right. He meant, what’s a recently heartbroken boy to do in Paris, the city of love?
Oh, the irony of it all.
“Memories scratch at my heart,
my head hurts”
That very moment, the cobbled pavement looked rather inviting. He trudged towards it, hesitated for a moment, before disregarding all else and sitting on the pavement’s edge.
“My head hurts”, he whimpered, clutching his head in his hands. “My heart hurts too…”, another call for help to nobody in particular.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of sneakers stop in a distance, and its owner was probably looking at him, both cautious, yet concerned. But after a couple of seconds, it resumed its journey. Maybe Asian men sitting by the roadside, clutching their heads wasn’t such a rare scene in Paris after all.
He remembered her smiles, her voice, the light giggles before she would say, “I love you too”.
“I knew that at some point, it became a lie”
Come to think of it, he had always been the one to tell her he loved her first.
It didn’t matter to him who said it first. All this shouldn’t matter in love, right?
Right?
"Maybe to you, I'm a little too boring, too kind"
But maybe it was because he was always the one to initiate things, maybe, that’s why she didn’t feel the need to hold on to him.
Maybe it was because he was always the one to ask her out.
Maybe it went all the way back to those days, when he would unthinkingly shout out her name when asked who his ideal girl is.
Maybe, that’s why she took it all for granted. There was no need to put in any effort to maintain something since she could always count on him to do it.
Maybe that’s why she grew bored. Maybe that’s why when she suddenly looked at him one day, she no longer felt the intense passion she had back when they were first photographed together.
“But now I’m tired”
He felt as though someone had squeezed a lemon at the back of his head, and drops of the acidic juice made its way to the back of his eyes and the back of his throat.
“Make up, shake up, break up”
What’s a boy to do in Paris, sitting along the pavement, heart freshly broken, pain seeping from the cracks?
Cry his heart out, maybe?
And that’s precisely what he did.
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im bored and this was done really quickly so its rather raw. hope its alright though. =)
But no matter what, it is my life’s everything”
What’s a boy to do when he’s in Paris, the city of love?
Well, a piece of paper labelled "Kim Jonghyun’s schedule" dictates that said boy is to sing, dance and provide moments of fanservice to thousands of screaming fangirls for two nights in a row. And of course take a few photos for a magazine photoshoot near the Eiffel Tower.
Kim Jonghyun the boy, however, decides that he’s meant to wander the Parisian streets tonight, in as inconspicuous clothes as possible, cap worn low. Of course, that didn’t stop a few observant and very giggly French girls from noticing an Asian boy, strangely familiar to the one they had seen on the news for the past few nights, next to the headlines, “K-Pop Wave Sweeps Across Europe”.
Good thing he had his headphones over his ears, so he wouldn’t hear the giggles and grow more self-conscious than he already was.
Instead, he just dug his hands further into his jeans, thankfully not skinnies this time, and drooped his head lower.
“Replay, replay, replay”
The lyrics of the song playing on his iPod drifted slowly into his consciousness. Replay… he couldn’t decide if it was a good or bad idea.
He knew it was only a matter of time before TV stations, newspapers and the internet would joyfully herald the news. “Kim Jonghyun + Shin Sekyung = no more”.
Yup, that was probably it.
Oh, did he forget to mention? Right. He meant, what’s a recently heartbroken boy to do in Paris, the city of love?
Oh, the irony of it all.
“Memories scratch at my heart,
my head hurts”
That very moment, the cobbled pavement looked rather inviting. He trudged towards it, hesitated for a moment, before disregarding all else and sitting on the pavement’s edge.
“My head hurts”, he whimpered, clutching his head in his hands. “My heart hurts too…”, another call for help to nobody in particular.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of sneakers stop in a distance, and its owner was probably looking at him, both cautious, yet concerned. But after a couple of seconds, it resumed its journey. Maybe Asian men sitting by the roadside, clutching their heads wasn’t such a rare scene in Paris after all.
He remembered her smiles, her voice, the light giggles before she would say, “I love you too”.
“I knew that at some point, it became a lie”
Come to think of it, he had always been the one to tell her he loved her first.
It didn’t matter to him who said it first. All this shouldn’t matter in love, right?
Right?
"Maybe to you, I'm a little too boring, too kind"
But maybe it was because he was always the one to initiate things, maybe, that’s why she didn’t feel the need to hold on to him.
Maybe it was because he was always the one to ask her out.
Maybe it went all the way back to those days, when he would unthinkingly shout out her name when asked who his ideal girl is.
Maybe, that’s why she took it all for granted. There was no need to put in any effort to maintain something since she could always count on him to do it.
Maybe that’s why she grew bored. Maybe that’s why when she suddenly looked at him one day, she no longer felt the intense passion she had back when they were first photographed together.
“But now I’m tired”
He felt as though someone had squeezed a lemon at the back of his head, and drops of the acidic juice made its way to the back of his eyes and the back of his throat.
“Make up, shake up, break up”
What’s a boy to do in Paris, sitting along the pavement, heart freshly broken, pain seeping from the cracks?
Cry his heart out, maybe?
And that’s precisely what he did.
web counter
-
im bored and this was done really quickly so its rather raw. hope its alright though. =)