Lies Lost
LIES LOST; PG
There’s these fleeting moments that happen - they don’t happen very often, in fact they happen very seldom but they are there, they exist and indeed they are true. Sometimes they wonder if it’s just a figment of their imagination; perhaps they just imagined that flicker of a glance across the twenty people also in the room and maybe those fingers hadn’t lingered expectantly a little too much with that respective pat on the back. ‘Congratulations!’ and ‘You’ve worked hard!’ might have been exchanged more than once and perhaps too formally that it raised eyebrows to those who knew them so well before - and after - but ‘I still love you’ instead of ‘Thank you’ with a ninety-degree bow didn’t seem so fitting either.
From where she stands, he seems slightly more mature and elevated - his gags have a bit more finesse to them now, she thinks whenever she catches a glimpse of him on television (on accident of course, and only when she’s casually browsing channels.) They don’t see each other much in person anymore, more often so at random intervals in between tedious flights overseas, but when they do manage to meet, she feels like she is the first to say hello. She tries, she tells herself. She tries.
From where he stands, she’s become more complex - unreadable almost. He hears stories about her in the halls passing, and random casual mentions of what she’s up to from Krystal: “Oh my god, my sister is obsessed with her new iPhone, it’s all she ever talks about,” and “My parents are upset unnie bought such an expensive car, I don’t care if she’s in her “twenties” now, when I’m her age I’m going to save all my money so I can buy my own country and live there.” but no one ever seems to really bring her up - in how she was doing. And out of nowhere he’ll finally see her and think of many grand things to say and a dozen or so hypothetical ways he could take her in an embrace without seeming overzealous, but then her smile in the hallways would be so stiff and her hellos would be so stilted, he has no choice but to move on. Because she already has, he knows.
Ninety-degrees and distant bows are their speciality.
“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Minho says, in between ambitious bicep curls. It’s two years later and Jonghyun is seemingly on the same pattern of life, observing the benefits of his hard work from his ab crunches in the mirror with a wincing pain at his reflection. He tells Minho that is just his exercise face but Minho knows that it’s Jonghyun thinking face; the kind he makes when he’s trying to figure out something that has no possible answer.
“Talk to who?” Jonghyun says. “That girl from the radio station? Come on Minho, that was nothing serious.”
“I know hyung,” Minho stops his curls for a second and debates whether or not he’s supposed to tell his hyung he’s aware of who his heart is still broken from. But Jonghyun is picking up weights, miraculously similar and competitive to the ones that Minho is holding, so he decides against it - crushing Jonghyun’s soul could be done in more ways than one. “You are aware I can do more sets than you, right?”
Jessica dips her feet in the pool and takes them out again. It’s not excruciatingly cold but she cannot handle any sort of extreme change in weather so she spends her break time admiring her fresh pedicure, the water trickling off in a glorifying manner. The weather’s nice in Bora Bora and she’s got the tan to prove it. The only thing holding her back from fully enjoying her time is the countdown for her manager to pull her back and take her inside and back to work.
Jessica sighs. She always sighs now.
A newspaper gets thrown into her lap from overhead and she catches it lazily before it falls into the water.
“Wah, front page again, you. Amazing.”
It’s enough to get her curiosity rousing so she peers at the cover from under her sunglasses as Sooyoung plops down besides her, shoving her feet right into the chlorine with a happy shriek. And then Jessica sighs again.
It’s another picture of them, she recognizes her own face with displeasure, as well as the cafe behind her and the screaming headline below stamping her whereabouts and with who. ‘K-Pop Hallyu Stars SNSD’s Jessica and 2PM’S Taecyeon caught in a yelling fight outside a club! Did their number one duet cause them to break-up?’ She scans the article for more of an update but gives up halfway through from the ridiculousness. This time the newspaper finds the water quite well.
“What do you think Jessica?”
“What do you mean what do I think?”
(She doesn’t mean to snap, she just does more and more frequently. It must be the nicotine withdrawal and weight gain as a result. Certainly not because she’s unhappy.)
“Well, what do you think the company is going to say this time?”
“According to them, we’re still not even officially dating,” she scoffs and then decides to add a bit softer, “what can they say really?”
The water’s still cold when she dips her feet in, but she plunges them deep.
They have these concerts - concerts where everyone is supposed to reunite and act like a family, hug each other meaningfully and catch up, sunbaes be all doting, hoobaes eating it all eagerly. Surprisingly, it really is like this - and Jonghyun finds himself backstage somewhere in the depths of SM town in London, his arms flying around Yunho hyung, his camera taking a lovable picture with Sulli and his chatty story about how he tripped in front of Big Ben finding its way alongside a coffee break with Ryeowook. It’s a little bit of Jonghyun trying to make the most of it, because these opportunities don’t come up very much anymore, but perhaps a little of him playing avoidance. (Not that he would ever admit that.)
Jessica is also there, because why wouldn’t she be if it’s mandatory? And she chooses to sit on the sidelines and do the opposite - being engaged was never her forte, so why start now. She knows what he’s doing, because she’s the one who started it first, but the more he skirts around her imminent corner, the more the hairs on her arms prickle.
She has an itch, an itch to stand up and rush right over, push him to the ground, starved for attention. But somehow wrapping herself around Krystal and keeping herself busy with texts to someone else gives her more comfort instead. She pretends that she never notices his new haircut that highlights a cute tiny mole behind his right ear, nor the fact that he gives her a little wave at the end of the night in complete politeness.
“Goodnight, Jessica-sshi.” he would say.
“Oh, goodnight.” she might say back if she felt like it. But she didn’t, so.
This is Jessica’s world, and no one has to be none the wiser.
They have this conversation one last time. Jonghyun suspects there’s some sort of meddling involved, otherwise how else would that explain how they ended up at the same circular table sitting side by side, arms tucked by the elbow, careful not to touch. Tiffany, Henry and Amber sit across, with bemused expressions as if they planned this all and Jonghyun wonders if this is some sort of punishment for never learning English well. But they sit happy, happy with liquor in their hands and laughter in the air, voices ringing in extremely high decibels.
It’s the end of the world celebration - at least their end of the world. SME is folding, closed from an overload of impending lawsuits, unworkable conditions and the fortuitous red line of filing for bankruptcy - it’s only natural that all the idols would come together and join hands in celebrating that they are finally free.
Jessica and Jonghyun don’t hold hands, of course, (they can barely make it through five seconds of pathetic stolen glances at each other) and someone at their table makes bad jokes that they have a hard time smiling through, but they do.
“Let’s get fucking wasted!” Tiffany screams in English and then again in belated Korean, holding up her glass leaving everyone else at their table no choice but to follow suit above the boisterous music that traps them in the room. Tiffany clinks the glasses too hard and one of them becomes undone, glass falling to the ground and red wine spilling sideways towards Jonghyun and Jessica’s side of the table, aptly coming to a stop in the lap of Jessica’s beautiful embroidered cream dress, but hardly anyone pays attention because Tiffany is screaming “FUCK IT!” at the top of her lungs and pulling Amber into an exaggerated kiss for show, leaving Henry at the sideline, mouth agape.
Jonghyun notices though, even when Jessica is pretending the stain isn’t bothering her as the liquid pools in dark and resistant. He grabs a handful of napkins off the table and wipes without thought, almost diligently focused in the matter.
“It’s not going to come off,” she says slowly, tugging at his wrist, telling him it is okay to stop. There’s friction in the slight physical contact but they have become experts in ignoring it. So he smiles instead. “It’s fine, really.”
He does the only other thing to remedy. He takes off his jacket and places it on her lap, hating himself for letting his hand graze her knee so poetically. Or tragically.
“So you’re free now,” Jonghyun says after a while, as if he’s put considerable amount of thought into this very exact moment, “how are you going to choose to spend it?”
“I’ve already signed a contract with Jey-X Entertainment. I’m going to become a fashion designer and live in Milan.”
“Wow,” Jonghyun says, almost getting caught up in the way that Jessica looks lost in, dreamlike.
“How about you?” Jessica remembers to ask back, even though her sister had kept her very up to date with Jonghyun’s lofty ambitions over the months and years, secretly knowing all his pipe dreams and fears and hopes. Not that she would - or could - admit it.
“I’m going to become a composer. I’d sell you a song if you were still going to sing.”
“I think I’m done with singing.”
“Figured you’d say that.”
“Well maybe you can write a song about me someday and I’ll hear it on the radio or something.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Jonghyun says and Jessica offers him a sad smile back as their fingers touch just a millimeter against the table, and neither of them has the heart to tear them away. If only she knew about the countless journals sitting with dust underneath his bunk bed, lyrics upon lyrics based on her but nameless.
He could tell her this, tell her right then and there - but pride was always such a hard thing to battle.
Years later and they meet under the roof of some fine decor, gripping their oversized mugs, feet shuffling against the cement. There’s that fear in the air - the fear of being the first one to say something, the first to say something and make the other one run away. Jonghyun is the one that clears his throat first, leans forward to break the silence - but he can’t - so Jessica does.
“So what’s new with you?”
Jonghyun doesn’t answer immediately and laughs. Jessica is speaking formally with him now, her voice dripping like that of a stranger. It’s immediately offputting, almost offputting as the fact that she’s still impeccably beautiful, even with weary eyes and a fatigue appearance.
“I’m composing. Just like I said I would.” He remains poised even though he’s fidgeting with the edge of his cup and dangerously letting it teeter to the left distractedly.
“I was excited when Krystal told me you were back for a week, I hadn’t heard from you in so long.” Jessica talks slow and calculated. “You must love New York, then?”
“My English has improved from all the studying I’m doing there. I can say more than ‘I’m fine, thank you, no sugar please!’ now.” He laughs a little and Jessica does too, maybe too much. “You would probably love living there, probably fit in better than me.”
“Yeah, but I’m a Korean now.”
“Right.” Jonghyun ignores the painfully obvious look of regret wiping across her face. “So how’s the lifestyle treating you now? You like it?”
He doesn’t have to act for details, and playing dumb would just be too much at this point - it’s not a secret that Jessica had become ‘Jung Sooyeon’ now, an A list actress married to an A list actor named ‘Ok Taecyeon,’ together they had a joint flawless working resume. It didn’t matter that Jessica’s life had been flooded with reports of neglect and cheating allegations and spousal abuse - because she was mega-famous now and there should be nothing better than that.
“It’s funny...” Jessica leans over peculiarly and starts to draw misshapen hearts with her finger on Jonghyun’s hand without his permission, “while you were out doing exactly what you said you were going to do, I didn’t. I didn’t even attempt to purse my designing career at all. You on the other hand, haven’t changed your promises a bit.”
“I guess you’ve changed a lot, noona.”
“Yeah, I guess I have.”
“But you’re still Sica to me.” Jonghyun chokes out with an awkward grin and Jessica stops her finger with urgency.
“Do you think it’s too late for me to change one more time Jonghyun? Do you think it’s possible for me to erase my mistakes?”
“What do you mean? What mistakes?”
“Can I run away with you now? I want to be free.”
“Free from what, exactly?” Jonghyun asks and immediately wishes he didn’t after Jessica leans close and lifts her shirt up for only his eyes to see, only his eyes to see the gaping blue bruise running a line from her breasts to her stomach.
“Don’t show me that,” Jonghyun pulls her shirt down and looks away, ashamed and mad all at once. “don’t complicate things for yourself.”
“My life has always been one big complication. Uncomplicate it for me.” And it’s that look again, the look of sorrow and unfulfillment that leaves Jonghyun feeling unsettled, and leaves him to stand up and set his coffee down, leaves him to be the one that unwraps himself away from Jessica’s helpless sobbing and clinging embrace that makes everyone in the cafe pay attention with deepening curiosity.
“Please,” she begs one last time, her arms finding their way around Jonghyun’s tense neck, her voice looking for warmth in the crook of his ear; but it’s Jonghyun’s turn to change, he decides, and he stays stiff and unwelcome - because it’s all he can do to protect her and protect her image.
“I can’t, Sica. I’m not the one you chose.”
Maybe it would have been different if Jessica Jung was still Jessica Jung. And even though she was still Jessica in his eyes, he couldn’t reverse the fact that the public know knew her as Jung Sooyeon.
All the running away to New York in the world couldn’t change that.
Perhaps when time moves forward about ten years from now and people actually grow up, not just insisting to themselves that they did, then there’s a chance for another one of those moments. Another one of those moments in a crowded street in New York amongst the traffic lights and hot dog stands where two people’s eyes meet across the bustling commotion that surrounds them. And their eyes get a chance to flicker in the same direction, and they can meet under the guise of a new beginning, a world where she isn’t famous anymore and is divorced and he’s still the same guy, the same guy that has an international selling song dedicated to her playing on the airwaves and maybe it’s called ‘Jessica’ because he was never that creative to begin with.
And they’ll finally embrace with warm smiles, not angst-ridden, backs relaxed in comfort, eyes never unlocking, and they will touch each other with a hopeful linger, a linger that is welcome because it means something - not just because their time together in the future is completely one of the imagination.
Perhaps.
------
t/n: i haven't written jongsica in forever! wah. miss that otp of mine.
There’s these fleeting moments that happen - they don’t happen very often, in fact they happen very seldom but they are there, they exist and indeed they are true. Sometimes they wonder if it’s just a figment of their imagination; perhaps they just imagined that flicker of a glance across the twenty people also in the room and maybe those fingers hadn’t lingered expectantly a little too much with that respective pat on the back. ‘Congratulations!’ and ‘You’ve worked hard!’ might have been exchanged more than once and perhaps too formally that it raised eyebrows to those who knew them so well before - and after - but ‘I still love you’ instead of ‘Thank you’ with a ninety-degree bow didn’t seem so fitting either.
From where she stands, he seems slightly more mature and elevated - his gags have a bit more finesse to them now, she thinks whenever she catches a glimpse of him on television (on accident of course, and only when she’s casually browsing channels.) They don’t see each other much in person anymore, more often so at random intervals in between tedious flights overseas, but when they do manage to meet, she feels like she is the first to say hello. She tries, she tells herself. She tries.
From where he stands, she’s become more complex - unreadable almost. He hears stories about her in the halls passing, and random casual mentions of what she’s up to from Krystal: “Oh my god, my sister is obsessed with her new iPhone, it’s all she ever talks about,” and “My parents are upset unnie bought such an expensive car, I don’t care if she’s in her “twenties” now, when I’m her age I’m going to save all my money so I can buy my own country and live there.” but no one ever seems to really bring her up - in how she was doing. And out of nowhere he’ll finally see her and think of many grand things to say and a dozen or so hypothetical ways he could take her in an embrace without seeming overzealous, but then her smile in the hallways would be so stiff and her hellos would be so stilted, he has no choice but to move on. Because she already has, he knows.
Ninety-degrees and distant bows are their speciality.
“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Minho says, in between ambitious bicep curls. It’s two years later and Jonghyun is seemingly on the same pattern of life, observing the benefits of his hard work from his ab crunches in the mirror with a wincing pain at his reflection. He tells Minho that is just his exercise face but Minho knows that it’s Jonghyun thinking face; the kind he makes when he’s trying to figure out something that has no possible answer.
“Talk to who?” Jonghyun says. “That girl from the radio station? Come on Minho, that was nothing serious.”
“I know hyung,” Minho stops his curls for a second and debates whether or not he’s supposed to tell his hyung he’s aware of who his heart is still broken from. But Jonghyun is picking up weights, miraculously similar and competitive to the ones that Minho is holding, so he decides against it - crushing Jonghyun’s soul could be done in more ways than one. “You are aware I can do more sets than you, right?”
Jessica dips her feet in the pool and takes them out again. It’s not excruciatingly cold but she cannot handle any sort of extreme change in weather so she spends her break time admiring her fresh pedicure, the water trickling off in a glorifying manner. The weather’s nice in Bora Bora and she’s got the tan to prove it. The only thing holding her back from fully enjoying her time is the countdown for her manager to pull her back and take her inside and back to work.
Jessica sighs. She always sighs now.
A newspaper gets thrown into her lap from overhead and she catches it lazily before it falls into the water.
“Wah, front page again, you. Amazing.”
It’s enough to get her curiosity rousing so she peers at the cover from under her sunglasses as Sooyoung plops down besides her, shoving her feet right into the chlorine with a happy shriek. And then Jessica sighs again.
It’s another picture of them, she recognizes her own face with displeasure, as well as the cafe behind her and the screaming headline below stamping her whereabouts and with who. ‘K-Pop Hallyu Stars SNSD’s Jessica and 2PM’S Taecyeon caught in a yelling fight outside a club! Did their number one duet cause them to break-up?’ She scans the article for more of an update but gives up halfway through from the ridiculousness. This time the newspaper finds the water quite well.
“What do you think Jessica?”
“What do you mean what do I think?”
(She doesn’t mean to snap, she just does more and more frequently. It must be the nicotine withdrawal and weight gain as a result. Certainly not because she’s unhappy.)
“Well, what do you think the company is going to say this time?”
“According to them, we’re still not even officially dating,” she scoffs and then decides to add a bit softer, “what can they say really?”
The water’s still cold when she dips her feet in, but she plunges them deep.
They have these concerts - concerts where everyone is supposed to reunite and act like a family, hug each other meaningfully and catch up, sunbaes be all doting, hoobaes eating it all eagerly. Surprisingly, it really is like this - and Jonghyun finds himself backstage somewhere in the depths of SM town in London, his arms flying around Yunho hyung, his camera taking a lovable picture with Sulli and his chatty story about how he tripped in front of Big Ben finding its way alongside a coffee break with Ryeowook. It’s a little bit of Jonghyun trying to make the most of it, because these opportunities don’t come up very much anymore, but perhaps a little of him playing avoidance. (Not that he would ever admit that.)
Jessica is also there, because why wouldn’t she be if it’s mandatory? And she chooses to sit on the sidelines and do the opposite - being engaged was never her forte, so why start now. She knows what he’s doing, because she’s the one who started it first, but the more he skirts around her imminent corner, the more the hairs on her arms prickle.
She has an itch, an itch to stand up and rush right over, push him to the ground, starved for attention. But somehow wrapping herself around Krystal and keeping herself busy with texts to someone else gives her more comfort instead. She pretends that she never notices his new haircut that highlights a cute tiny mole behind his right ear, nor the fact that he gives her a little wave at the end of the night in complete politeness.
“Goodnight, Jessica-sshi.” he would say.
“Oh, goodnight.” she might say back if she felt like it. But she didn’t, so.
This is Jessica’s world, and no one has to be none the wiser.
They have this conversation one last time. Jonghyun suspects there’s some sort of meddling involved, otherwise how else would that explain how they ended up at the same circular table sitting side by side, arms tucked by the elbow, careful not to touch. Tiffany, Henry and Amber sit across, with bemused expressions as if they planned this all and Jonghyun wonders if this is some sort of punishment for never learning English well. But they sit happy, happy with liquor in their hands and laughter in the air, voices ringing in extremely high decibels.
It’s the end of the world celebration - at least their end of the world. SME is folding, closed from an overload of impending lawsuits, unworkable conditions and the fortuitous red line of filing for bankruptcy - it’s only natural that all the idols would come together and join hands in celebrating that they are finally free.
Jessica and Jonghyun don’t hold hands, of course, (they can barely make it through five seconds of pathetic stolen glances at each other) and someone at their table makes bad jokes that they have a hard time smiling through, but they do.
“Let’s get fucking wasted!” Tiffany screams in English and then again in belated Korean, holding up her glass leaving everyone else at their table no choice but to follow suit above the boisterous music that traps them in the room. Tiffany clinks the glasses too hard and one of them becomes undone, glass falling to the ground and red wine spilling sideways towards Jonghyun and Jessica’s side of the table, aptly coming to a stop in the lap of Jessica’s beautiful embroidered cream dress, but hardly anyone pays attention because Tiffany is screaming “FUCK IT!” at the top of her lungs and pulling Amber into an exaggerated kiss for show, leaving Henry at the sideline, mouth agape.
Jonghyun notices though, even when Jessica is pretending the stain isn’t bothering her as the liquid pools in dark and resistant. He grabs a handful of napkins off the table and wipes without thought, almost diligently focused in the matter.
“It’s not going to come off,” she says slowly, tugging at his wrist, telling him it is okay to stop. There’s friction in the slight physical contact but they have become experts in ignoring it. So he smiles instead. “It’s fine, really.”
He does the only other thing to remedy. He takes off his jacket and places it on her lap, hating himself for letting his hand graze her knee so poetically. Or tragically.
“So you’re free now,” Jonghyun says after a while, as if he’s put considerable amount of thought into this very exact moment, “how are you going to choose to spend it?”
“I’ve already signed a contract with Jey-X Entertainment. I’m going to become a fashion designer and live in Milan.”
“Wow,” Jonghyun says, almost getting caught up in the way that Jessica looks lost in, dreamlike.
“How about you?” Jessica remembers to ask back, even though her sister had kept her very up to date with Jonghyun’s lofty ambitions over the months and years, secretly knowing all his pipe dreams and fears and hopes. Not that she would - or could - admit it.
“I’m going to become a composer. I’d sell you a song if you were still going to sing.”
“I think I’m done with singing.”
“Figured you’d say that.”
“Well maybe you can write a song about me someday and I’ll hear it on the radio or something.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Jonghyun says and Jessica offers him a sad smile back as their fingers touch just a millimeter against the table, and neither of them has the heart to tear them away. If only she knew about the countless journals sitting with dust underneath his bunk bed, lyrics upon lyrics based on her but nameless.
He could tell her this, tell her right then and there - but pride was always such a hard thing to battle.
Years later and they meet under the roof of some fine decor, gripping their oversized mugs, feet shuffling against the cement. There’s that fear in the air - the fear of being the first one to say something, the first to say something and make the other one run away. Jonghyun is the one that clears his throat first, leans forward to break the silence - but he can’t - so Jessica does.
“So what’s new with you?”
Jonghyun doesn’t answer immediately and laughs. Jessica is speaking formally with him now, her voice dripping like that of a stranger. It’s immediately offputting, almost offputting as the fact that she’s still impeccably beautiful, even with weary eyes and a fatigue appearance.
“I’m composing. Just like I said I would.” He remains poised even though he’s fidgeting with the edge of his cup and dangerously letting it teeter to the left distractedly.
“I was excited when Krystal told me you were back for a week, I hadn’t heard from you in so long.” Jessica talks slow and calculated. “You must love New York, then?”
“My English has improved from all the studying I’m doing there. I can say more than ‘I’m fine, thank you, no sugar please!’ now.” He laughs a little and Jessica does too, maybe too much. “You would probably love living there, probably fit in better than me.”
“Yeah, but I’m a Korean now.”
“Right.” Jonghyun ignores the painfully obvious look of regret wiping across her face. “So how’s the lifestyle treating you now? You like it?”
He doesn’t have to act for details, and playing dumb would just be too much at this point - it’s not a secret that Jessica had become ‘Jung Sooyeon’ now, an A list actress married to an A list actor named ‘Ok Taecyeon,’ together they had a joint flawless working resume. It didn’t matter that Jessica’s life had been flooded with reports of neglect and cheating allegations and spousal abuse - because she was mega-famous now and there should be nothing better than that.
“It’s funny...” Jessica leans over peculiarly and starts to draw misshapen hearts with her finger on Jonghyun’s hand without his permission, “while you were out doing exactly what you said you were going to do, I didn’t. I didn’t even attempt to purse my designing career at all. You on the other hand, haven’t changed your promises a bit.”
“I guess you’ve changed a lot, noona.”
“Yeah, I guess I have.”
“But you’re still Sica to me.” Jonghyun chokes out with an awkward grin and Jessica stops her finger with urgency.
“Do you think it’s too late for me to change one more time Jonghyun? Do you think it’s possible for me to erase my mistakes?”
“What do you mean? What mistakes?”
“Can I run away with you now? I want to be free.”
“Free from what, exactly?” Jonghyun asks and immediately wishes he didn’t after Jessica leans close and lifts her shirt up for only his eyes to see, only his eyes to see the gaping blue bruise running a line from her breasts to her stomach.
“Don’t show me that,” Jonghyun pulls her shirt down and looks away, ashamed and mad all at once. “don’t complicate things for yourself.”
“My life has always been one big complication. Uncomplicate it for me.” And it’s that look again, the look of sorrow and unfulfillment that leaves Jonghyun feeling unsettled, and leaves him to stand up and set his coffee down, leaves him to be the one that unwraps himself away from Jessica’s helpless sobbing and clinging embrace that makes everyone in the cafe pay attention with deepening curiosity.
“Please,” she begs one last time, her arms finding their way around Jonghyun’s tense neck, her voice looking for warmth in the crook of his ear; but it’s Jonghyun’s turn to change, he decides, and he stays stiff and unwelcome - because it’s all he can do to protect her and protect her image.
“I can’t, Sica. I’m not the one you chose.”
Maybe it would have been different if Jessica Jung was still Jessica Jung. And even though she was still Jessica in his eyes, he couldn’t reverse the fact that the public know knew her as Jung Sooyeon.
All the running away to New York in the world couldn’t change that.
Perhaps when time moves forward about ten years from now and people actually grow up, not just insisting to themselves that they did, then there’s a chance for another one of those moments. Another one of those moments in a crowded street in New York amongst the traffic lights and hot dog stands where two people’s eyes meet across the bustling commotion that surrounds them. And their eyes get a chance to flicker in the same direction, and they can meet under the guise of a new beginning, a world where she isn’t famous anymore and is divorced and he’s still the same guy, the same guy that has an international selling song dedicated to her playing on the airwaves and maybe it’s called ‘Jessica’ because he was never that creative to begin with.
And they’ll finally embrace with warm smiles, not angst-ridden, backs relaxed in comfort, eyes never unlocking, and they will touch each other with a hopeful linger, a linger that is welcome because it means something - not just because their time together in the future is completely one of the imagination.
Perhaps.
------
t/n: i haven't written jongsica in forever! wah. miss that otp of mine.