The Incessant Restriction of Catharsis
Title: The Incessant Restriction of Catharsis
Author: Heiji Hatsutori
Length: One-shot
Genre: Angst (I guess all my stories are angst-y), Character-centric.
Proclaimed: I own them all, even the characters (take note I don't put the name whatsoever, so they can be consider as mine, no? LOL).
Character: Just put anybody you like from any fandom existed (I'm only familiar with DBSK and SuJu fandom, really).
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters anymore if you decided to put your OTP or whoever in the fandom to the act. Though I would love to have them~ (seriously, who don't? LOL)
Rating: PG (just because...)
Summary: Ever afraid of your own phone? He did.
A/N: I wrote this while being blank in continuing A Butterfly, A Louvre, and (Not) A Freer, and I have to say this is the one responsible in killing off the writer’s block demon for me. Imagine finishing this in less than 4 hours! Frankly speaking, I’m quite surprised myself~ LOL. Maybe the fact that my head is in the full emo-mode at that time helps me typing this out...heck I don’t even know.
Also, this is early, but I know I'm not a frequent updater, thus I'm dedicating this as a birthday present for the first person who welcomes me here in livejournal aki_11 (although she's no longer here, just in case she ever sees this, thanks a lot for your warm support!) and zorata , who are also made of pure awesomeness, Happy Birthday~! ^^
THE INCESSANT RESTRICTION OF CATHARSIS
1. Dream
It is non-suspected, the message, that is. It just came in out of the blue. Starting with a simple ‘How do you do?’ it looked like any other ordinary message. Except, it come with a straight punch to the face afterwards.
‘How is the result?’
He almost chokes on thin air. The hands tremble, he can hardly breathe. He still reply though, old habits die hard, and he hates his fingers for pushing the ‘reply’ button so casually without better judgment from his mind. ‘I’m fine. The result is not so good, sorry.’ he replied. Hitting the ‘send’ button, he let out the long held breath. The heart is thumping hard, like it is going to burst out from his chest, the tension is building inside of him, and he never feels this nervous in his whole entire life so far. Not even when he receives his exam result or have his parents called to school because of discipline problem way back in Elementary school years ago, no. This is too much for him to handle.
A couple of minutes passed and the phone’s vibration startled him. ‘It’s ok.’ No, it’s not, he thinks. ‘Just how is it?’ I don’t want to say it, oh God, his head screams. As his fingers fumbles with each button to hit the screen flashes before his eyes, Tohoshinki’s Take Your Hands breaking the eerie silence, a call is coming. Or rather, the one he has been replying to is calling. His eyes widen, and he drops the phone on the bed, unable to move. He just stares at it like an idiot he is, and picks it up again after the call ended. He finishes the half-written message and sends it.
His heart never calms down until he finally manages to fall asleep and finds himself drenched in sweat the next morning.
*******
2. Catch You
He passes the day as calm and as compose as he can. The incident last night still affects him a bit as he finds himself astonishingly jumpy whenever his phone vibrates and refuses to hold it long enough, immediately keeps it back inside his bag after sending a message or finishes a call. He calls it ‘the phone trauma’ whenever his friends question it and as ridiculous as it sounds, that is a fact, not that he is lying. By evening he is back to normal and able to hold the said ‘trauma-inducer’ firmly in his palm while discussing the project assignments with his team members, and he thinks, it will be okay now. Or is it really?
There is a saying ‘calm before the storm’ though, no?
Just after the discussion reaching the end, and the team leader almost wraps up the meeting, his phone vibrates, a message is in. ‘Just tell the truth.’ it said.
If he has a heart problem, he will be dead by now due to shock, enough said.
He takes a deep breath, his sweaty and trembling hands carefully types in a reply. ‘Have a discussion now.’ Simple, short, and enough to stop the next incoming reply or a possible call later. Indeed, it works wonders.
Still, it does not stop his heart from thumping hard, and ‘the phone trauma’ continues for the next two days.
*******
3. Truth
He does not tell anyone about the tight situation he is in, a reserved person he is. Besides, he knows what their response will be before he hears it, ‘Just tell, why you are so petrified?’ or ‘Be honest, it is for the best!’ or ‘You have to settle this sooner or later, why wait though?’ or even ‘Just tell and let it go!’
Yeah, he knows them all already, thank you very much.
Still, there are things best keep to ourselves and not exposed, he reasons in his head. It might hurt if they know, he adds. Lies, you are being selfish, his mind screams, bold and clear.
Yeah, maybe I am, he finally concludes. I know that fully well, somewhere inside he hears his heart somewhat agrees, thumping slowly as he lets out a bitter smile, hands typing out assignments.
He is running away. He avoids contacting them, no messages, no calls, nothing. It is useless; his common sense constantly reminds him. Even so, he still does, even when there is no such thing like [running] forever. He knows he will come to, but no, not now.
Just let me disappear, he remember firmly wishes once, knowing it will never come true.
*******
4. Please
It has been almost one month since the fateful message came in. Things have been awkward ever since. He feels twisted when he suddenly remembers those messages and people. Worse, he sometimes burdened with guilt for being such an ignorant of a person. Still, he chooses this, who is there to blame then? Not like he regrets it. So far, he is successful. There is an absolute zero contacts existed. Somehow, he is not that happy though. Maybe one part of him at least does happy about it, heck he does not even care anymore, until his heart beating the somewhat familiar nervousness all of the sudden.
‘How do you do?’ it said.
Same pattern and he can guess what comes next.
‘How is the result, really?’
Uh-huh, thought so. Some things just never change.
His heart feels heavy enough as he puts the phone back into the pocket, ignoring the next coming messages, does not even bother checking them. Cold, his heart accuses, as he continue throwing jokes and laughing along with his friends.
He immediately forgot about it, like the message is not even there at the first place, drowning and drifting away from his memory.
Gone, disappear.
*******
5. (Don’t) Panic
He is left alone in the room; his roommate is going out for a meeting intended to all he deliberately skips, just because he can. He is not one for social meetings and whatnot, prefers to stay inside and ransacking his laptop instead. That night however, his stomach has been twisting and feeling funny for all the odd reasons and the heavy knots in his heart does not help him much either. Worse, his playlist in which he dump all the songs existed in the document and has it shuffles for all that he care has been playing some tear-jerking ballad number he swears he can develop a massive headache at this rate he is going in.
Amidst all the craziness, a message comes in his phone. He checks it, deletes it, and a familiar rush floods his mind. There are flashes of light and it is all coming back to him, that there is something he forgotten; something about a message in the phone. He starts ransacking his inbox as he has this habit to let those hundreds of messages in it until it is full and he will have to go an extra length just to clear it a bit. He skims through it once, twice, three times, and he found it.
The message or rather that particular one is there.
Involuntarily his heart drops the weight of 7 oceans. And he feels his body stiffens. Not a good sign, he thinks. Tohoshinki’s Day Moon blaring past his ears from the headphones. If they say experience makes you wiser, that is just not the case with him. He still trembles, his fingers still fumbles, and his heart almost stops in the middle of irregular breathing he suffers due to the extreme nervousness.
He hits the ‘reply’ button.
*******
6. Reset
He is running away. He still wants to continue, but somehow, his so-called journey comes to a halt. He slows his steps, and abruptly stops. Maybe this is it, he thinks. Maybe I should go back now, his mind nods profusely.
It has been awhile, after all, and in the midst of Tohoshinki’s harmony reaching to the climax part of the song, he could hear himself sighing in defeat.
Thus the ‘reply’ button he hits.
*******
7. Waltz
‘I’m fine.’ He has no trouble typing this. ‘The result is.’ Here comes the problem now.
He struggles to find the right words, the right expression. He struggles to finish one damn sentence. It is like a battle with your head and mind and you know you have to go on just because you own them all, and it kind of sucks, sometimes. He stops the playlist just when the next song is starting. He exhales, deep, assuring himself that he will tell this time around, and starts typing out. When it is time for him to send it, he hesitates a bit but still, the dead silence around him does not stop the constant chant of ‘Go on!’ replaying in his head.
By the time he hits the ‘send’ button, and the screen flashes the oh-so-familiar ‘Message sent!’ he collapsed on the bed, and it is only then that he realizes that he has been holding back his breath, and tears altogether.
*******
8. Numb
He is overwhelmed with emotions, sad, happy, relief, and whatnot, but that still does not stop the nervousness. He glance at the phone in his palm, the idea of receiving a reply struck him like a lightning. As much as he is glad to finally let it go he still does not bear to know the outcome. There is just too much to happen in one single night. So he does the next best thing, he offs the phone.
He knows that none of his friends may look for him tonight and saving battery and money is one good thing so he feels more than glad to push the ‘off’ button. As his phone goes dead, so does the flow of the tears. His heavy heart does not seem to feel lighter at the moment though.
He focuses his gaze to the laptop, putting back the headphone; Keane’s Nothing in My Way starts playing as he opens a new blank document of Word and starts typing a new story, for he is, surprisingly, an aspired writer.
It is non-suspected, the message, that is. It just came in out of the blue. Starting with a simple ‘How do you do?’ it looked like any other ordinary message. Except, it come with a straight punch to the face afterwards.
‘How is the result?’
Author: Heiji Hatsutori
Length: One-shot
Genre: Angst (I guess all my stories are angst-y), Character-centric.
Proclaimed: I own them all, even the characters (take note I don't put the name whatsoever, so they can be consider as mine, no? LOL).
Character: Just put anybody you like from any fandom existed (I'm only familiar with DBSK and SuJu fandom, really).
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters anymore if you decided to put your OTP or whoever in the fandom to the act. Though I would love to have them~ (seriously, who don't? LOL)
Rating: PG (just because...)
Summary: Ever afraid of your own phone? He did.
A/N: I wrote this while being blank in continuing A Butterfly, A Louvre, and (Not) A Freer, and I have to say this is the one responsible in killing off the writer’s block demon for me. Imagine finishing this in less than 4 hours! Frankly speaking, I’m quite surprised myself~ LOL. Maybe the fact that my head is in the full emo-mode at that time helps me typing this out...heck I don’t even know.
Also, this is early, but I know I'm not a frequent updater, thus I'm dedicating this as a birthday present for the first person who welcomes me here in livejournal aki_11 (although she's no longer here, just in case she ever sees this, thanks a lot for your warm support!) and zorata , who are also made of pure awesomeness, Happy Birthday~! ^^
THE INCESSANT RESTRICTION OF CATHARSIS
1. Dream
It is non-suspected, the message, that is. It just came in out of the blue. Starting with a simple ‘How do you do?’ it looked like any other ordinary message. Except, it come with a straight punch to the face afterwards.
‘How is the result?’
He almost chokes on thin air. The hands tremble, he can hardly breathe. He still reply though, old habits die hard, and he hates his fingers for pushing the ‘reply’ button so casually without better judgment from his mind. ‘I’m fine. The result is not so good, sorry.’ he replied. Hitting the ‘send’ button, he let out the long held breath. The heart is thumping hard, like it is going to burst out from his chest, the tension is building inside of him, and he never feels this nervous in his whole entire life so far. Not even when he receives his exam result or have his parents called to school because of discipline problem way back in Elementary school years ago, no. This is too much for him to handle.
A couple of minutes passed and the phone’s vibration startled him. ‘It’s ok.’ No, it’s not, he thinks. ‘Just how is it?’ I don’t want to say it, oh God, his head screams. As his fingers fumbles with each button to hit the screen flashes before his eyes, Tohoshinki’s Take Your Hands breaking the eerie silence, a call is coming. Or rather, the one he has been replying to is calling. His eyes widen, and he drops the phone on the bed, unable to move. He just stares at it like an idiot he is, and picks it up again after the call ended. He finishes the half-written message and sends it.
His heart never calms down until he finally manages to fall asleep and finds himself drenched in sweat the next morning.
*******
2. Catch You
He passes the day as calm and as compose as he can. The incident last night still affects him a bit as he finds himself astonishingly jumpy whenever his phone vibrates and refuses to hold it long enough, immediately keeps it back inside his bag after sending a message or finishes a call. He calls it ‘the phone trauma’ whenever his friends question it and as ridiculous as it sounds, that is a fact, not that he is lying. By evening he is back to normal and able to hold the said ‘trauma-inducer’ firmly in his palm while discussing the project assignments with his team members, and he thinks, it will be okay now. Or is it really?
There is a saying ‘calm before the storm’ though, no?
Just after the discussion reaching the end, and the team leader almost wraps up the meeting, his phone vibrates, a message is in. ‘Just tell the truth.’ it said.
If he has a heart problem, he will be dead by now due to shock, enough said.
He takes a deep breath, his sweaty and trembling hands carefully types in a reply. ‘Have a discussion now.’ Simple, short, and enough to stop the next incoming reply or a possible call later. Indeed, it works wonders.
Still, it does not stop his heart from thumping hard, and ‘the phone trauma’ continues for the next two days.
*******
3. Truth
He does not tell anyone about the tight situation he is in, a reserved person he is. Besides, he knows what their response will be before he hears it, ‘Just tell, why you are so petrified?’ or ‘Be honest, it is for the best!’ or ‘You have to settle this sooner or later, why wait though?’ or even ‘Just tell and let it go!’
Yeah, he knows them all already, thank you very much.
Still, there are things best keep to ourselves and not exposed, he reasons in his head. It might hurt if they know, he adds. Lies, you are being selfish, his mind screams, bold and clear.
Yeah, maybe I am, he finally concludes. I know that fully well, somewhere inside he hears his heart somewhat agrees, thumping slowly as he lets out a bitter smile, hands typing out assignments.
He is running away. He avoids contacting them, no messages, no calls, nothing. It is useless; his common sense constantly reminds him. Even so, he still does, even when there is no such thing like [running] forever. He knows he will come to, but no, not now.
Just let me disappear, he remember firmly wishes once, knowing it will never come true.
*******
4. Please
It has been almost one month since the fateful message came in. Things have been awkward ever since. He feels twisted when he suddenly remembers those messages and people. Worse, he sometimes burdened with guilt for being such an ignorant of a person. Still, he chooses this, who is there to blame then? Not like he regrets it. So far, he is successful. There is an absolute zero contacts existed. Somehow, he is not that happy though. Maybe one part of him at least does happy about it, heck he does not even care anymore, until his heart beating the somewhat familiar nervousness all of the sudden.
‘How do you do?’ it said.
Same pattern and he can guess what comes next.
‘How is the result, really?’
Uh-huh, thought so. Some things just never change.
His heart feels heavy enough as he puts the phone back into the pocket, ignoring the next coming messages, does not even bother checking them. Cold, his heart accuses, as he continue throwing jokes and laughing along with his friends.
He immediately forgot about it, like the message is not even there at the first place, drowning and drifting away from his memory.
Gone, disappear.
*******
5. (Don’t) Panic
He is left alone in the room; his roommate is going out for a meeting intended to all he deliberately skips, just because he can. He is not one for social meetings and whatnot, prefers to stay inside and ransacking his laptop instead. That night however, his stomach has been twisting and feeling funny for all the odd reasons and the heavy knots in his heart does not help him much either. Worse, his playlist in which he dump all the songs existed in the document and has it shuffles for all that he care has been playing some tear-jerking ballad number he swears he can develop a massive headache at this rate he is going in.
Amidst all the craziness, a message comes in his phone. He checks it, deletes it, and a familiar rush floods his mind. There are flashes of light and it is all coming back to him, that there is something he forgotten; something about a message in the phone. He starts ransacking his inbox as he has this habit to let those hundreds of messages in it until it is full and he will have to go an extra length just to clear it a bit. He skims through it once, twice, three times, and he found it.
The message or rather that particular one is there.
Involuntarily his heart drops the weight of 7 oceans. And he feels his body stiffens. Not a good sign, he thinks. Tohoshinki’s Day Moon blaring past his ears from the headphones. If they say experience makes you wiser, that is just not the case with him. He still trembles, his fingers still fumbles, and his heart almost stops in the middle of irregular breathing he suffers due to the extreme nervousness.
He hits the ‘reply’ button.
*******
6. Reset
He is running away. He still wants to continue, but somehow, his so-called journey comes to a halt. He slows his steps, and abruptly stops. Maybe this is it, he thinks. Maybe I should go back now, his mind nods profusely.
It has been awhile, after all, and in the midst of Tohoshinki’s harmony reaching to the climax part of the song, he could hear himself sighing in defeat.
Thus the ‘reply’ button he hits.
*******
7. Waltz
‘I’m fine.’ He has no trouble typing this. ‘The result is.’ Here comes the problem now.
He struggles to find the right words, the right expression. He struggles to finish one damn sentence. It is like a battle with your head and mind and you know you have to go on just because you own them all, and it kind of sucks, sometimes. He stops the playlist just when the next song is starting. He exhales, deep, assuring himself that he will tell this time around, and starts typing out. When it is time for him to send it, he hesitates a bit but still, the dead silence around him does not stop the constant chant of ‘Go on!’ replaying in his head.
By the time he hits the ‘send’ button, and the screen flashes the oh-so-familiar ‘Message sent!’ he collapsed on the bed, and it is only then that he realizes that he has been holding back his breath, and tears altogether.
*******
8. Numb
He is overwhelmed with emotions, sad, happy, relief, and whatnot, but that still does not stop the nervousness. He glance at the phone in his palm, the idea of receiving a reply struck him like a lightning. As much as he is glad to finally let it go he still does not bear to know the outcome. There is just too much to happen in one single night. So he does the next best thing, he offs the phone.
He knows that none of his friends may look for him tonight and saving battery and money is one good thing so he feels more than glad to push the ‘off’ button. As his phone goes dead, so does the flow of the tears. His heavy heart does not seem to feel lighter at the moment though.
He focuses his gaze to the laptop, putting back the headphone; Keane’s Nothing in My Way starts playing as he opens a new blank document of Word and starts typing a new story, for he is, surprisingly, an aspired writer.
It is non-suspected, the message, that is. It just came in out of the blue. Starting with a simple ‘How do you do?’ it looked like any other ordinary message. Except, it come with a straight punch to the face afterwards.
‘How is the result?’