jin-centric thing
i found this on my usb from when i had written it for an english assessment ages ago. so. the stimulus was "we are all so curiously alone, but it's important to keep making signals through the glass" or something like that. well. jin-centric? (of course it is). i don't remember where i got the idea from, but eh.
Jin dragged his feet along the floor anxiously. The clock chimed noon. After retrieving his headphones, he sucked in a sharp breath and sat on the couch silently. He used to love the feeling of luxurious leather against his skin. Today it didn’t even register.
The sound of silence rang in Jin’s ears. His brain was a fuzz of anti-depressants and expensive wine. He was falling back into the same cycle. Round and round destructive thoughts whirred until he couldn’t escape their hostile assaults. Silencing them was a task Jin hadn’t attempted in a while. The soft rhythm ‘n’ blues of his melody lay dusty in a forgotten corner of his heart.
Pockets of society had been debating the connection between one’s song and their soul for years. They loved to discuss morality, melody and the true importance of one’s song. Jin had no time for them or their idle chatter. His belief was that an individual’s melody was an extension of their being; their own song to either share or forget. Jin lost his song years ago, amidst jittery sleepless nights and the beverages that had become the poison ivy of his life.
Sitting on the leather couch, Jin languidly stroked the edge of his jaw, musing on Tomohisa’s visit earlier that day. Tomohisa and he might have been considered the truest of friends, once upon a time. Tomohisa had been the Spock to his Kirk, once upon a time. Countless times he’d watched Tomohisa plugging his headset into his jack; Tomo always did that early in the morning. Jin knew it calmed Tomo down. The jack was black and simple, an entrance above his heart into which the headset plugged. The jack was in the same place for most humans. Jin used to like watching Tomo’s lips curl into a subtle smile after he jacked in, the essence of one’s melody providing an eerie calm for its listener.
A while after Jin came to America, Tomohisa and Kazuya followed, but it was never the same. The Jin they knew was no more than a nostalgic memory. Tomohisa’s quiet words were blurry in Jin’s mind, soft-spoken apologies and a tentative: “I don’t know how to deal with you anymore.”
The new Jin was alien to Tomo, his sullen disposition and nonchalant attitude towards their friendship created a barricade between them. Yet despite appearances, Jin wanted to shout: Hey, this isn’t what I asked for! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Jin didn’t know how to ask Tomo: Can you save me from myself?
Jin knew Tomo’s song. On a forgotten night after too many drinks had been drunk, Tomo had plugged his headset into the jack above his heart, and offered an earbud to Jin. Tucking a strand of his bouncy black curls behind his ear, Jin accepted the offered bud. Tomo’s song was glistening like summer, a pure song, reflective of his pure love and character.
The song of Kazuya’s heart was the only other melody Jin had heard. He remembered it clearly, the soft orchestra which was so distinctly Kazuya. Kazuya’s melody was haunting, but it was him in every single way. His melody hasn’t been shared like Tomohisa’s, on a drunken night. Kazuya had shared it in honest sobriety. Knowing the significance of another hearing his melody, and still offering a bud to Jin.
Tomohisa had informed Jin that Kazuya and he would be returning soon to Tokyo, with its crisp smell of excitement and wafting aroma of ramen. Jin no longer felt anything towards the city which was once his home. He didn’t belong in Tokyo with his former friends, but the jungle of stilettos which was Los Angeles didn’t offer him comfort either. Maybe Jin had felt at home, once upon a time. But that must’ve been long ago. Jin wondered what he would feel if he wasn’t so blank, so crushed under the monster that was his depression. He didn’t want to feel the loneliness, anymore. Jin felt as though he had fallen asleep only to wake up and find everyone gone, his signals for help ignored, realising the monster had won. Jin felt curiously alone, his pleas muted behind the glass that the monster constructed.
Catching his lip-ring between two teeth, Jin gnawed at his lip until the taste of coppery blood filled his mouth. Jin sometimes wished he was more like Tomohisa, whose heart was soft and easy to give out love. Or perhaps like Kazuya, sure of himself and in charge of all his relationships. Jin had never felt in charge of much in his life, pushed around by his depression and people who didn’t look past the gorgeous face. The only thing he had charge of was his song, he had thought. He had never let anyone else listen to it, and now it was thawing in ice. Jin slowly pulled his shirt open, hoping for a distraction. None came.
Jin slowly inserted an ear bud into his ear, and waited.
And waited.
His music was gone. Jin’s headphones were in perfect working order, there was no mistaking it. The soft melody of his heart had disappeared, and Jin’s ears were filled with vacant buzzing. Static was all that was heard. The glass wall built by his depression had stolen his friends, song and soul. Jin wondered if it was even worth calling out for help, making a final signal through the glass. He guessed not. Now Jin belonged to the static and the emptiness of the glass he was enclosed in.
Jin dragged his feet along the floor anxiously. The clock chimed noon. After retrieving his headphones, he sucked in a sharp breath and sat on the couch silently. He used to love the feeling of luxurious leather against his skin. Today it didn’t even register.
The sound of silence rang in Jin’s ears. His brain was a fuzz of anti-depressants and expensive wine. He was falling back into the same cycle. Round and round destructive thoughts whirred until he couldn’t escape their hostile assaults. Silencing them was a task Jin hadn’t attempted in a while. The soft rhythm ‘n’ blues of his melody lay dusty in a forgotten corner of his heart.
Pockets of society had been debating the connection between one’s song and their soul for years. They loved to discuss morality, melody and the true importance of one’s song. Jin had no time for them or their idle chatter. His belief was that an individual’s melody was an extension of their being; their own song to either share or forget. Jin lost his song years ago, amidst jittery sleepless nights and the beverages that had become the poison ivy of his life.
Sitting on the leather couch, Jin languidly stroked the edge of his jaw, musing on Tomohisa’s visit earlier that day. Tomohisa and he might have been considered the truest of friends, once upon a time. Tomohisa had been the Spock to his Kirk, once upon a time. Countless times he’d watched Tomohisa plugging his headset into his jack; Tomo always did that early in the morning. Jin knew it calmed Tomo down. The jack was black and simple, an entrance above his heart into which the headset plugged. The jack was in the same place for most humans. Jin used to like watching Tomo’s lips curl into a subtle smile after he jacked in, the essence of one’s melody providing an eerie calm for its listener.
A while after Jin came to America, Tomohisa and Kazuya followed, but it was never the same. The Jin they knew was no more than a nostalgic memory. Tomohisa’s quiet words were blurry in Jin’s mind, soft-spoken apologies and a tentative: “I don’t know how to deal with you anymore.”
The new Jin was alien to Tomo, his sullen disposition and nonchalant attitude towards their friendship created a barricade between them. Yet despite appearances, Jin wanted to shout: Hey, this isn’t what I asked for! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Jin didn’t know how to ask Tomo: Can you save me from myself?
Jin knew Tomo’s song. On a forgotten night after too many drinks had been drunk, Tomo had plugged his headset into the jack above his heart, and offered an earbud to Jin. Tucking a strand of his bouncy black curls behind his ear, Jin accepted the offered bud. Tomo’s song was glistening like summer, a pure song, reflective of his pure love and character.
The song of Kazuya’s heart was the only other melody Jin had heard. He remembered it clearly, the soft orchestra which was so distinctly Kazuya. Kazuya’s melody was haunting, but it was him in every single way. His melody hasn’t been shared like Tomohisa’s, on a drunken night. Kazuya had shared it in honest sobriety. Knowing the significance of another hearing his melody, and still offering a bud to Jin.
Tomohisa had informed Jin that Kazuya and he would be returning soon to Tokyo, with its crisp smell of excitement and wafting aroma of ramen. Jin no longer felt anything towards the city which was once his home. He didn’t belong in Tokyo with his former friends, but the jungle of stilettos which was Los Angeles didn’t offer him comfort either. Maybe Jin had felt at home, once upon a time. But that must’ve been long ago. Jin wondered what he would feel if he wasn’t so blank, so crushed under the monster that was his depression. He didn’t want to feel the loneliness, anymore. Jin felt as though he had fallen asleep only to wake up and find everyone gone, his signals for help ignored, realising the monster had won. Jin felt curiously alone, his pleas muted behind the glass that the monster constructed.
Catching his lip-ring between two teeth, Jin gnawed at his lip until the taste of coppery blood filled his mouth. Jin sometimes wished he was more like Tomohisa, whose heart was soft and easy to give out love. Or perhaps like Kazuya, sure of himself and in charge of all his relationships. Jin had never felt in charge of much in his life, pushed around by his depression and people who didn’t look past the gorgeous face. The only thing he had charge of was his song, he had thought. He had never let anyone else listen to it, and now it was thawing in ice. Jin slowly pulled his shirt open, hoping for a distraction. None came.
Jin slowly inserted an ear bud into his ear, and waited.
And waited.
His music was gone. Jin’s headphones were in perfect working order, there was no mistaking it. The soft melody of his heart had disappeared, and Jin’s ears were filled with vacant buzzing. Static was all that was heard. The glass wall built by his depression had stolen his friends, song and soul. Jin wondered if it was even worth calling out for help, making a final signal through the glass. He guessed not. Now Jin belonged to the static and the emptiness of the glass he was enclosed in.