existence (because you're not here with us)
I stayed up until about an hour after midnight penning this, and it's my first fic in a while. I've been stuck with writer's block for almost forever now, so this is sort of a comeback? =P This probably isn't that great, since my brain hasn't yet accustomed to writing again. This would be my first fic on LJ, and also on paper. Yes, I wrote this in a journal I received from a friend but never used - I used to write fics on my laptop. Here goes:
Title: Existence (Because You're Not Here With Us)
Pairing: 0T5
Genre: Angst/Friendship
A/N: Partially inspired by DBSK album Heart, Mind and Soul. Follows Changmin's filming of his current drama on Jeju Island. Reflects on the current lawsuit situation.
Summary: Changmin feels cold, and it's a type of cold that has nothing to do with the seasons.
---
There Choikang Changmin sat, allowing the cool morning breeze to filter in through the open window. The skies were a mild ice blue, and the flowers in a corner were as beautiful as ever, splashing bright hues against the soft cream wall. It was a stark contrast in comparison to the winter nature outside - the trees were nothing but the stem and branches. No stunning blend of green, yellow and brown that captivated the eyes. And somewhat, in stark contrast to him. He likened himself to those same dead branches. The four of them? They were the stem and the leaves. And now the leaves are gone, leaving only the stem and the branches.
His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened to reveal the bright, shining lights of the corridor beyond, and the eager faces of the three make-up artists assigned to him. They traipsed into the room with their cases of equipment, greeting him and commenting on the gorgeous day to come. Changmin responded to their words and conversations when needed. Changmin smiled when needed. Changmin laughed when needed.
But his heart felt empty.
Since when had the simple act of smiling and laughing feel like a chore? Since when had it turned into nothing but a social obligation? Since when had it become something that needed strength, needed courage, needed willpower?
Happiness no longer exists, because you’re not here with us.
There Choikang Changmin sat, in a plush chair with his name plastered right on the back. It was well past nine, and the cast were preparing for the day's worth of filming. His co-stars were putting the final touch to their apparel; the room was filled the scent of perfume, the dust of makeup and the loud remnants of conversation. He allowed his eyes to wander, taking in everything from the beautiful architecture of the house to the gentle lighting from the magnificent chandelier dangling over his head. Everything from the sheer size of the mahogany main doors to the fine embroidery of the cushions, to which every detail was heeded. He likened himself - no, all of them - to the sewing. Tightly knitted together, never meant to be pulled apart.
His attention snapped back to the present as the director, producer and scriptwriter stepped forward. The cast settled into their respective seats, brushing a strand of hair away, taking a sip of water. The director began to speak, describing precisely how the scenes were to be acted out. Changmin answered questions when needed. Changmin nodded acknowledgement when needed. Changmin referred to the script when needed.
But his mind felt empty.
Since when had the natural act of concentrating on something become so difficult? Since when had it been something that took up every fragment of willpower he had left? Since when had it felt so forced?
Focus no longer exists, because you’re not here with us.
There Choikang Changmin sat, fingers shoved in his pockets as the chilly wind threatened to overwhelm him. He watched as the camera crew took their positions and the first scene of the day began filming. The leading lady played her part perfectly - her facial expressions were flawless, her lines went by the script, her voice captured that faint sense of insecurity the director so wanted. She reached out with gentle fingers to touch the marble pillars on the balcony, the soft morning light giving the building a slight glow, making it look as if it were made of some otherworldly stone. There were four pillars on that balcony - one in each corner, one for each of them. His silent pillars of support, unknowing of how much just being there meant to him.
He wasn't sure if it was just his mind wandering or simply that the scene was meant to end so quickly, but it was his turn to film now. The make-up artists flitted over to him once more and began dabbing powder all over his face, muttering hushed wishes of good luck. He reviewed one last time in his head what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to do it, and when he supposed to do it. He knew he was never a stellar actor, but he thought his performance was satisfactory at the very least. Changmin dropped his gaze when needed. Changmin gave a pleading expression when needed. Changmin let uncertainty creep into his gestures when needed.
But his soul felt empty.
Since when had acting become such a huge burden? Since when had the sense of satisfaction after finishing a scene fade away into indifference? Since when had it turned into something he had to drag himself through?
Passion no longer exists, because you’re not here with us.
And there Shim Changmin sat, taking in the scent of the familiar room. The room in which they had shared so much - good times, bad times, anything and everything. The feeling of togetherness still lingered in the air. This was home, home more than anywhere else. A mug of coffee laid before him, but he shut his eyes, took a deep breath and stood up. He willed himself to take steps, willed his legs to move.
His eyes found the PS console strewn all over the floor in the next room. The wires were just as tangled, the cushions were just as disorganized as Junsu liked it. In his mind’s eye, he could see the adorable man laughing and raising his console in triumph as the screen showed it was his win yet again. There would be this glint in his eyes, and the smile on his face would reflect the bubbling happiness overflowing within him. It was a small delight, but Changmin could never help smiling whenever Junsu smiled too. Then the older man would turn to him and challenge him to another game of racing. "Come on, Changmin-ah! Just one more game! Please?" And then Changmin would give in, only to lose all over again.
Junsu-hyung.
He left the room, and walked into the main hall instead. The piano was still there, music sheets left in a folder on top of the seat, spare pens and pencils and erasers dumped in a box. Everything was as Yoochun liked it. In his mind's eye, he could see the quiet man pressing a concession of keys, pursing his lips lightly, then taking a pencil and making annotations on paper, scratching out some earlier notes. He'd then notice the maknae looking at him, and seize the opportunity. "Changmin-ah, could you get me another eraser? I sort of lost the last one." And then Changmin would sigh in exasperation, telling him that was the umpteenth one he had misplaced, only to go to the nearby shops to get another one.
Yoochun-hyung.
His eyes glimpsed the glass divider separating the kitchen and the dining room. The utensils were hung up according to size, exactly as Jaejoong wanted it. The spices were labeled and arranged neatly, just as Jaejoong preferred it. In his mind's eye, he could see the lead vocalist tossing in some unknown ingredient, stir the pot and turn around to look at him with a stern look that never quite reached those eyes sparkling with amusement. "Changmin-ah, please stop stealing food from the fridge. I know you're hungry; dinner will be done soon." And then Changmin would leave, only to come back all over again.
Jaejoong-hyung.
And a hand touched his shoulder gently just then; Changmin turned around to meet the eyes of the group leader. He was the one that united all of them, made them feel like a family, made them feel wanted and needed. But the expression on Yunho's face was broken - it was a myriad of emotions. Yunho gazed at the kitchen, piano, game console. A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. It was a strange sensation to him; he hadn’t smiled in a while now.
"Nothing has changed, has it?"
"Nothing will ever change, Yunho-hyung."
They would never change anything in this place, because doing so would be acknowledgement of their absence. No, they had merely gone out for a while, but they would be coming back soon enough. It's as if they had gone somewhere to get a brand-new game console for Junsu, a brand-new recipe book for Jaejoong, and a brand-new stack of music sheets for Yoochun, but they would be coming back after they had finished with it. They would come back after they had retrieved the happiness, focus and passion that had been left somewhere out there.
"Hyung?"
"Hm?"
"It's so cold."
Yunho gazed at Changmin for a long moment, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, as if wanting to say something. The leader pulled him into a tight hug, putting as much warmth as he possibly could into the touch. The warmth that the five of them shared; the warmth that was the very thing that kept them clinging onto fragments of hope. Clinging onto pieces of love. Clinging onto shreds of warmth. Finally, Yunho brought himself to speak - he could feel that it was cold now too, a cold that had nothing to do with the snowflakes slowly dropping to the ground outside. It was a cold that reached the bottom of his heart, the depths of his mind, the abyss of his soul.
"I know, Min-ah. I know."
And maybe tomorrow, we could all hug like this. All five of us. And then maybe it won’t be so cold anymore.
GAH I KNOW THE ENDING DIDN'T MAKE SENSE. I don't know if this was a success or not. xD I find it great to have finished writing a oneshot in two days, after a couple of months' break, though I'm not sure if it turned out well. I don't know if this was too repetitive. I'm not sure if anybody noticed, but the 'Shim Changmin' nearing the end of the fic compared to the earlier 'Choikang Changmin' was meant to show that he was truly himself when he was at home and with the other members of DBSK. I know some of you guys are amazing writers; any advice/criticism is loved. ♥
Lastly: to sakuranbokissx, this fic is dedicated to you and your amazing self. Thank you so much for that prompt; I don't think I would've bothered to pick up a pen and journal if not for you. And to koharu_chan, thank you as well for 'calling up my inspiration'. I think it really worked. ;P
Cross-posted to hug______.
Title: Existence (Because You're Not Here With Us)
Pairing: 0T5
Genre: Angst/Friendship
A/N: Partially inspired by DBSK album Heart, Mind and Soul. Follows Changmin's filming of his current drama on Jeju Island. Reflects on the current lawsuit situation.
Summary: Changmin feels cold, and it's a type of cold that has nothing to do with the seasons.
---
There Choikang Changmin sat, allowing the cool morning breeze to filter in through the open window. The skies were a mild ice blue, and the flowers in a corner were as beautiful as ever, splashing bright hues against the soft cream wall. It was a stark contrast in comparison to the winter nature outside - the trees were nothing but the stem and branches. No stunning blend of green, yellow and brown that captivated the eyes. And somewhat, in stark contrast to him. He likened himself to those same dead branches. The four of them? They were the stem and the leaves. And now the leaves are gone, leaving only the stem and the branches.
His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened to reveal the bright, shining lights of the corridor beyond, and the eager faces of the three make-up artists assigned to him. They traipsed into the room with their cases of equipment, greeting him and commenting on the gorgeous day to come. Changmin responded to their words and conversations when needed. Changmin smiled when needed. Changmin laughed when needed.
But his heart felt empty.
Since when had the simple act of smiling and laughing feel like a chore? Since when had it turned into nothing but a social obligation? Since when had it become something that needed strength, needed courage, needed willpower?
Happiness no longer exists, because you’re not here with us.
There Choikang Changmin sat, in a plush chair with his name plastered right on the back. It was well past nine, and the cast were preparing for the day's worth of filming. His co-stars were putting the final touch to their apparel; the room was filled the scent of perfume, the dust of makeup and the loud remnants of conversation. He allowed his eyes to wander, taking in everything from the beautiful architecture of the house to the gentle lighting from the magnificent chandelier dangling over his head. Everything from the sheer size of the mahogany main doors to the fine embroidery of the cushions, to which every detail was heeded. He likened himself - no, all of them - to the sewing. Tightly knitted together, never meant to be pulled apart.
His attention snapped back to the present as the director, producer and scriptwriter stepped forward. The cast settled into their respective seats, brushing a strand of hair away, taking a sip of water. The director began to speak, describing precisely how the scenes were to be acted out. Changmin answered questions when needed. Changmin nodded acknowledgement when needed. Changmin referred to the script when needed.
But his mind felt empty.
Since when had the natural act of concentrating on something become so difficult? Since when had it been something that took up every fragment of willpower he had left? Since when had it felt so forced?
Focus no longer exists, because you’re not here with us.
There Choikang Changmin sat, fingers shoved in his pockets as the chilly wind threatened to overwhelm him. He watched as the camera crew took their positions and the first scene of the day began filming. The leading lady played her part perfectly - her facial expressions were flawless, her lines went by the script, her voice captured that faint sense of insecurity the director so wanted. She reached out with gentle fingers to touch the marble pillars on the balcony, the soft morning light giving the building a slight glow, making it look as if it were made of some otherworldly stone. There were four pillars on that balcony - one in each corner, one for each of them. His silent pillars of support, unknowing of how much just being there meant to him.
He wasn't sure if it was just his mind wandering or simply that the scene was meant to end so quickly, but it was his turn to film now. The make-up artists flitted over to him once more and began dabbing powder all over his face, muttering hushed wishes of good luck. He reviewed one last time in his head what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to do it, and when he supposed to do it. He knew he was never a stellar actor, but he thought his performance was satisfactory at the very least. Changmin dropped his gaze when needed. Changmin gave a pleading expression when needed. Changmin let uncertainty creep into his gestures when needed.
But his soul felt empty.
Since when had acting become such a huge burden? Since when had the sense of satisfaction after finishing a scene fade away into indifference? Since when had it turned into something he had to drag himself through?
Passion no longer exists, because you’re not here with us.
And there Shim Changmin sat, taking in the scent of the familiar room. The room in which they had shared so much - good times, bad times, anything and everything. The feeling of togetherness still lingered in the air. This was home, home more than anywhere else. A mug of coffee laid before him, but he shut his eyes, took a deep breath and stood up. He willed himself to take steps, willed his legs to move.
His eyes found the PS console strewn all over the floor in the next room. The wires were just as tangled, the cushions were just as disorganized as Junsu liked it. In his mind’s eye, he could see the adorable man laughing and raising his console in triumph as the screen showed it was his win yet again. There would be this glint in his eyes, and the smile on his face would reflect the bubbling happiness overflowing within him. It was a small delight, but Changmin could never help smiling whenever Junsu smiled too. Then the older man would turn to him and challenge him to another game of racing. "Come on, Changmin-ah! Just one more game! Please?" And then Changmin would give in, only to lose all over again.
Junsu-hyung.
He left the room, and walked into the main hall instead. The piano was still there, music sheets left in a folder on top of the seat, spare pens and pencils and erasers dumped in a box. Everything was as Yoochun liked it. In his mind's eye, he could see the quiet man pressing a concession of keys, pursing his lips lightly, then taking a pencil and making annotations on paper, scratching out some earlier notes. He'd then notice the maknae looking at him, and seize the opportunity. "Changmin-ah, could you get me another eraser? I sort of lost the last one." And then Changmin would sigh in exasperation, telling him that was the umpteenth one he had misplaced, only to go to the nearby shops to get another one.
Yoochun-hyung.
His eyes glimpsed the glass divider separating the kitchen and the dining room. The utensils were hung up according to size, exactly as Jaejoong wanted it. The spices were labeled and arranged neatly, just as Jaejoong preferred it. In his mind's eye, he could see the lead vocalist tossing in some unknown ingredient, stir the pot and turn around to look at him with a stern look that never quite reached those eyes sparkling with amusement. "Changmin-ah, please stop stealing food from the fridge. I know you're hungry; dinner will be done soon." And then Changmin would leave, only to come back all over again.
Jaejoong-hyung.
And a hand touched his shoulder gently just then; Changmin turned around to meet the eyes of the group leader. He was the one that united all of them, made them feel like a family, made them feel wanted and needed. But the expression on Yunho's face was broken - it was a myriad of emotions. Yunho gazed at the kitchen, piano, game console. A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. It was a strange sensation to him; he hadn’t smiled in a while now.
"Nothing has changed, has it?"
"Nothing will ever change, Yunho-hyung."
They would never change anything in this place, because doing so would be acknowledgement of their absence. No, they had merely gone out for a while, but they would be coming back soon enough. It's as if they had gone somewhere to get a brand-new game console for Junsu, a brand-new recipe book for Jaejoong, and a brand-new stack of music sheets for Yoochun, but they would be coming back after they had finished with it. They would come back after they had retrieved the happiness, focus and passion that had been left somewhere out there.
"Hyung?"
"Hm?"
"It's so cold."
Yunho gazed at Changmin for a long moment, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, as if wanting to say something. The leader pulled him into a tight hug, putting as much warmth as he possibly could into the touch. The warmth that the five of them shared; the warmth that was the very thing that kept them clinging onto fragments of hope. Clinging onto pieces of love. Clinging onto shreds of warmth. Finally, Yunho brought himself to speak - he could feel that it was cold now too, a cold that had nothing to do with the snowflakes slowly dropping to the ground outside. It was a cold that reached the bottom of his heart, the depths of his mind, the abyss of his soul.
"I know, Min-ah. I know."
And maybe tomorrow, we could all hug like this. All five of us. And then maybe it won’t be so cold anymore.
GAH I KNOW THE ENDING DIDN'T MAKE SENSE. I don't know if this was a success or not. xD I find it great to have finished writing a oneshot in two days, after a couple of months' break, though I'm not sure if it turned out well. I don't know if this was too repetitive. I'm not sure if anybody noticed, but the 'Shim Changmin' nearing the end of the fic compared to the earlier 'Choikang Changmin' was meant to show that he was truly himself when he was at home and with the other members of DBSK. I know some of you guys are amazing writers; any advice/criticism is loved. ♥
Lastly: to sakuranbokissx, this fic is dedicated to you and your amazing self. Thank you so much for that prompt; I don't think I would've bothered to pick up a pen and journal if not for you. And to koharu_chan, thank you as well for 'calling up my inspiration'. I think it really worked. ;P
Cross-posted to hug______.