[intro/?] Stop
Intro: Ethereal, w/c 671.
Summary: He woke up in a strange place, only to find what he'd been yearning for.
He woke up to a blue sky, tall green grass skirting the edges of his vision. He heard the soft thunder of a heavy waterfall and the steady trickle of a stream. Blearily wiping his eyes, the young man sat up, dark hair falling into his eyes. Shaking his hair out of his vision, he slowly looked around. The soft breeze ruffled the grass, as if he was in a sea of green, interrupted only by the clear clear water of the stream. In the distance he could see picturesque mountains, summit dusted with snow.
Where am I?
The man was still relatively young, perhaps rounding out his 20’s, and sat alone in the middle of the large opening. He brought his legs in, resting his forearms on his knees, and leaned his cheek against his arm, ignoring the hair that fell into his face once again. He stared despondently at the water in front of him.
How did I get here?
He wracked his brain, not recalling anything much. Last thing he remembered was the blaring music of the practice room, somebody’s snide cynicism, and a throbbing pain in his ankle.
Speaking of pain...
The young man noticed for the first time the dull ache at the back of his skull. Gingerly, he reached up to the back of his head, surprised to find thick tresses. Curious, he ran a tender hand through his hair, reveling at the length. The last he remembered, the stylists had cut it short, insisting on a more mature and manly look.
Confusion was apparent in his eyes, trying to assess the situation.
He had woken up in a strange place, with no idea how he got there. Bothering a glance at himself, he found his lanky limbs dressed in a baggy, plain navy t-shirt, shorts, and bulky shoes, the clothes he had last been in when he went to practice. Practice...
Practice?
He stood up carefully. Taking another long look at his surroundings.
The plush landscape looked nothing like the stuffy practice room that he last remembered being in. He couldn’t hear the traffic of the streets, nor feel the deep thrum of bass and footsteeps coursing through their building. This place looked nothing like Seoul. Nothing remotely like Korea, even. So where could he possibly be? In his confused mind, he sort of thought that the meadow he landed himself in looked to be out of a travel brochure for the United States Midwest.
He quirked a smile, one side of his mouth rising. He was obviously nowhere in Korea, so what had happened?
Am I dreaming?
It seemed plausible. It was explain a lot. Turning, he saw a quaint cabin at the edge of a lush forest.
He stared at it, sure it wasn’t there before, but nevertheless intrigued. The young man slowly walked towards the cabin, unsure of his footing. Finding the ground stable, he walked leisurely towards the building. Despite his leisurely pace, with his long strides, he reached the door of the house quickly.
Hesitating, torn between the desire to knock or stare through the window, he decided to knock. He waited nervously at the doorstep, unsure of himself. With no answer he moved over to peer into the window, seeking movement.
He found himself staring into a kitchen, a small table set with tea for two. It was still steaming so he wondered where the inhabitants had gone. Catching himself snooping, he turned back to knock on the door again when he found it open, a familiar figure leaning against the frame.
His mouth went dry.
He stared into the eyes he could never stop staring into, but tore away to devour the rest of him. It seemed ethereal, the way he stood before him - all sharp lines and pouty pink lips. God, those lips
“Long time no see,” his vision said softly.
It seemed like every breath he ever took in his life released itself in that one sigh, one exhalation.
“Jaejoong.”
Summary: He woke up in a strange place, only to find what he'd been yearning for.
He woke up to a blue sky, tall green grass skirting the edges of his vision. He heard the soft thunder of a heavy waterfall and the steady trickle of a stream. Blearily wiping his eyes, the young man sat up, dark hair falling into his eyes. Shaking his hair out of his vision, he slowly looked around. The soft breeze ruffled the grass, as if he was in a sea of green, interrupted only by the clear clear water of the stream. In the distance he could see picturesque mountains, summit dusted with snow.
Where am I?
The man was still relatively young, perhaps rounding out his 20’s, and sat alone in the middle of the large opening. He brought his legs in, resting his forearms on his knees, and leaned his cheek against his arm, ignoring the hair that fell into his face once again. He stared despondently at the water in front of him.
How did I get here?
He wracked his brain, not recalling anything much. Last thing he remembered was the blaring music of the practice room, somebody’s snide cynicism, and a throbbing pain in his ankle.
Speaking of pain...
The young man noticed for the first time the dull ache at the back of his skull. Gingerly, he reached up to the back of his head, surprised to find thick tresses. Curious, he ran a tender hand through his hair, reveling at the length. The last he remembered, the stylists had cut it short, insisting on a more mature and manly look.
Confusion was apparent in his eyes, trying to assess the situation.
He had woken up in a strange place, with no idea how he got there. Bothering a glance at himself, he found his lanky limbs dressed in a baggy, plain navy t-shirt, shorts, and bulky shoes, the clothes he had last been in when he went to practice. Practice...
Practice?
He stood up carefully. Taking another long look at his surroundings.
The plush landscape looked nothing like the stuffy practice room that he last remembered being in. He couldn’t hear the traffic of the streets, nor feel the deep thrum of bass and footsteeps coursing through their building. This place looked nothing like Seoul. Nothing remotely like Korea, even. So where could he possibly be? In his confused mind, he sort of thought that the meadow he landed himself in looked to be out of a travel brochure for the United States Midwest.
He quirked a smile, one side of his mouth rising. He was obviously nowhere in Korea, so what had happened?
Am I dreaming?
It seemed plausible. It was explain a lot. Turning, he saw a quaint cabin at the edge of a lush forest.
He stared at it, sure it wasn’t there before, but nevertheless intrigued. The young man slowly walked towards the cabin, unsure of his footing. Finding the ground stable, he walked leisurely towards the building. Despite his leisurely pace, with his long strides, he reached the door of the house quickly.
Hesitating, torn between the desire to knock or stare through the window, he decided to knock. He waited nervously at the doorstep, unsure of himself. With no answer he moved over to peer into the window, seeking movement.
He found himself staring into a kitchen, a small table set with tea for two. It was still steaming so he wondered where the inhabitants had gone. Catching himself snooping, he turned back to knock on the door again when he found it open, a familiar figure leaning against the frame.
His mouth went dry.
He stared into the eyes he could never stop staring into, but tore away to devour the rest of him. It seemed ethereal, the way he stood before him - all sharp lines and pouty pink lips. God, those lips
“Long time no see,” his vision said softly.
It seemed like every breath he ever took in his life released itself in that one sigh, one exhalation.
“Jaejoong.”