Bittersweet Aftertaste
Title: Bittersweet Aftertaste
Genre : Angst
Rating: PG-13
Length: One Shot
Pairing: Jaeho with some Min (not in the way you think)
Author's Note: I wrote this a little while back, in between muse and lack of it, but here it is, I hope the concept of it is understood and stuff....Line break is very important! *poet in rage*
Sometimes you give him your back.
You may be at parties, mingling with the stars and supernovas of your industry and you will linger with everyone but him. You slip into circles, laugh with the girls, and slink out of the rings as though your presence was but a reference to whatever it is they're talking about; news, hair gel, innuendos. And you wonder, all the while, as you sip your drink caught between lazy fingers, if he is watching. Your voice is a little higher today, your smiles a bit more meaningful and where you once placed a friendly hand on someone's shoulder, you now brush a sensual palm over a hip.
Is he watching, is all you want to know tonight.
Sometimes you grow cold with him.
Sitting but a few inches away from him, you might as well have been hours apart. A timezone where you are night and he is a bright day, lighting every fucking person's face but yours. How is it that his grin makes others smile and yet, you glare at the ashtray upon the coffee table. If only you could take hold of it and toss it at his chest. Look at me, you scream behind the facade of a grin. Look at me and tell me that I matter. That I am not him or her or anyone else.
"Jaejoong, what do you think about Tiffany's hair?"
I think it's hideous, Yunho. But you don't say a word nor offer your gaze in his direction. You merely uncross your legs and take to a standing. "It's gorgeous. Pardon me."And you leave, because he never sees you in a crowd, and you're just like everyone else to him.
He can't even see that you're upset.
Sometimes you realize you're to blame.
Steam creeps up the mirror, blurring your image and you breathe in the heavy air. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the one who is at fault? "I am," you mutter, swallowing the dryness of your throat and all the apologies you should have said -- and still have time to say.
It's easier to see what you've become when the reflection is simply white fog. Because that's what you've become -- and now you know that you are not what you were before. Tepid fingers slowly streak across the glass, drawing lines with no direction but down. Funny, how you're always frowning and feeling like shit nowadays. It's exhausting to restrain so much anger and the cost rests in the bags under your eyes and sleepless nights, where all you want to do is write songs about heart break and secret loves. Where all you do is think about how childish you're being and God, how you miss him when he's not around. You stand under the showerhead and bow your head in shame.
Forgive me, Father, for I know what I do.
Sometimes you just
break
down.
Changmin curiously peeps into the kitchen, calling your name as if you'll pop out of the oven because you're certainly not standing anywhere he can see you. Pots and pans are a puzzle among your crouching form, slumped against the counter and a hand cupping your face. Keep your chin up, keep your chin up.
"Hyung?" You look up to see his worried features, eyes seeking reason in your very own pair but he finds it in the stains of tears across your roster. "I can't do this, Minnie. I can't anymore." The sob brings him forward and his arms wrap around you as you reach to be embraced and hide away in the curve of his neck under the soft questions of what happened, are you alright, what can't you do anymore.
"Pretend. I can't pretend."
But you do pretend. Everytime.
You pull away from Changmin and let his hands roam your face, fingers brushing back the bangs, sweeping under your soaked lashes. He's never seen you cry and these unknown tears frighten him, frighten him into rising up, saying he's going to get Yunho. But you restrain him, hands clumping fits of his jeans. "Minnie, d-dont. Don't, I---"
"How's the cooking come along," a voice sings from down the hall, the voice of none other than your love, your pain. Quickly you climb up to your feet, in a mess of clashing sounds of stainless steel and burst out laughing. Min, startled, looks on with bewilderment as you lean onto him, laughing into his arm just as Yunho strolls in, smiling, as always.
"That, that was funny, Min," so says your grin and shaking shoulders as you round to face leader sshi and his curious countenance, staring onto the mess. "Did something h---"
"Oh, that? Minnie here told me the most abrasive comment and I lost a bit of control, trying to spank him with the deep fryer," you roughly wipe your tears on a sleeve, hiding behind the drape of it for a moment only to reappear with a brave smile. "But in the end, it was comical because it's true! But that's all....I'm gonna go to the bathroom for a second. Just to fix this horrible mess of a face."
And you leave them with words in their mouth and a lie to keep Yunho smiling and Min quiet. It always it is like this and sometimes, all the time,
you wish it wasn't.
Genre : Angst
Rating: PG-13
Length: One Shot
Pairing: Jaeho with some Min (not in the way you think)
Author's Note: I wrote this a little while back, in between muse and lack of it, but here it is, I hope the concept of it is understood and stuff....Line break is very important! *poet in rage*
Sometimes you give him your back.
You may be at parties, mingling with the stars and supernovas of your industry and you will linger with everyone but him. You slip into circles, laugh with the girls, and slink out of the rings as though your presence was but a reference to whatever it is they're talking about; news, hair gel, innuendos. And you wonder, all the while, as you sip your drink caught between lazy fingers, if he is watching. Your voice is a little higher today, your smiles a bit more meaningful and where you once placed a friendly hand on someone's shoulder, you now brush a sensual palm over a hip.
Is he watching, is all you want to know tonight.
Sometimes you grow cold with him.
Sitting but a few inches away from him, you might as well have been hours apart. A timezone where you are night and he is a bright day, lighting every fucking person's face but yours. How is it that his grin makes others smile and yet, you glare at the ashtray upon the coffee table. If only you could take hold of it and toss it at his chest. Look at me, you scream behind the facade of a grin. Look at me and tell me that I matter. That I am not him or her or anyone else.
"Jaejoong, what do you think about Tiffany's hair?"
I think it's hideous, Yunho. But you don't say a word nor offer your gaze in his direction. You merely uncross your legs and take to a standing. "It's gorgeous. Pardon me."And you leave, because he never sees you in a crowd, and you're just like everyone else to him.
He can't even see that you're upset.
Sometimes you realize you're to blame.
Steam creeps up the mirror, blurring your image and you breathe in the heavy air. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the one who is at fault? "I am," you mutter, swallowing the dryness of your throat and all the apologies you should have said -- and still have time to say.
It's easier to see what you've become when the reflection is simply white fog. Because that's what you've become -- and now you know that you are not what you were before. Tepid fingers slowly streak across the glass, drawing lines with no direction but down. Funny, how you're always frowning and feeling like shit nowadays. It's exhausting to restrain so much anger and the cost rests in the bags under your eyes and sleepless nights, where all you want to do is write songs about heart break and secret loves. Where all you do is think about how childish you're being and God, how you miss him when he's not around. You stand under the showerhead and bow your head in shame.
Forgive me, Father, for I know what I do.
Sometimes you just
break
down.
Changmin curiously peeps into the kitchen, calling your name as if you'll pop out of the oven because you're certainly not standing anywhere he can see you. Pots and pans are a puzzle among your crouching form, slumped against the counter and a hand cupping your face. Keep your chin up, keep your chin up.
"Hyung?" You look up to see his worried features, eyes seeking reason in your very own pair but he finds it in the stains of tears across your roster. "I can't do this, Minnie. I can't anymore." The sob brings him forward and his arms wrap around you as you reach to be embraced and hide away in the curve of his neck under the soft questions of what happened, are you alright, what can't you do anymore.
"Pretend. I can't pretend."
But you do pretend. Everytime.
You pull away from Changmin and let his hands roam your face, fingers brushing back the bangs, sweeping under your soaked lashes. He's never seen you cry and these unknown tears frighten him, frighten him into rising up, saying he's going to get Yunho. But you restrain him, hands clumping fits of his jeans. "Minnie, d-dont. Don't, I---"
"How's the cooking come along," a voice sings from down the hall, the voice of none other than your love, your pain. Quickly you climb up to your feet, in a mess of clashing sounds of stainless steel and burst out laughing. Min, startled, looks on with bewilderment as you lean onto him, laughing into his arm just as Yunho strolls in, smiling, as always.
"That, that was funny, Min," so says your grin and shaking shoulders as you round to face leader sshi and his curious countenance, staring onto the mess. "Did something h---"
"Oh, that? Minnie here told me the most abrasive comment and I lost a bit of control, trying to spank him with the deep fryer," you roughly wipe your tears on a sleeve, hiding behind the drape of it for a moment only to reappear with a brave smile. "But in the end, it was comical because it's true! But that's all....I'm gonna go to the bathroom for a second. Just to fix this horrible mess of a face."
And you leave them with words in their mouth and a lie to keep Yunho smiling and Min quiet. It always it is like this and sometimes, all the time,
you wish it wasn't.