dreams, dreamers and everything that falls in between
yunho centric
gen
g
391 words
You’re the kid standing in front of 50,000 screaming fans, heart thump thump thumping to the bright flash of concert lights and sound of career highs, living out a dream with four others who’ve come as far as you.
You’re the kid nervous on the night of his first concert, shaking with the sudden weight of what ifs settling on your shoulders but still refusing to look at the ticket sale breakdown because since when were dreams ever measured in terms as superficial as numbers?
You’re the kid eying down a band you’re supposed to lead, four people whose names you barely remember, is the one with the infectious laugh Junsu or Yoochun and you feel like finding out, slowly getting used to how it feels like everything’s somehow going to turn out alright because some dreams work out better shared anyways.
You’re the kid feeling like his heart could explode because you’ve danced it out and gotten through, now something more than a name in a list, a printed out number, now one step closer to something you’ve been dreaming about all your life.
You’re the kid calling home a on a public payphone with the last of your money, quiet no I’m okay to a desperate come home, please, dreams are for dreamers and in the end they both amount to nothing.
You’re the kid bleeding on the sidewalk in a shady part of the city, people going out of their way to avoid you because everyone knows that hey, shit happens, it’s Seoul but what they don’t know is they can steal the money in your pockets, the ragged old backpack you’ve had since you were twelve but what they can’t touch is this dream you’ve had for as long as you can remember.
You’re the kid gaping wide eyed for the first time at skyscrapers, standing in a strange city that feels too big, too loud and there’s a canvas bag slung over one shoulder with your life thrown haphazard inside because dreams, they wait for no one, will lead you anywhere.
You’re the kid dancing in the middle of his bedroom in some backwater little place called Gwangju, the kid with a wonky smile and hours spent trying to prove them wrong when they say you can’t, won’t, never will.
You’re the kid with a dream.
[fin]
an- had a 2 1/2 hour bio paper and blank paper? this is...so...corny askjdbakj D:
gen
g
391 words
You’re the kid standing in front of 50,000 screaming fans, heart thump thump thumping to the bright flash of concert lights and sound of career highs, living out a dream with four others who’ve come as far as you.
You’re the kid nervous on the night of his first concert, shaking with the sudden weight of what ifs settling on your shoulders but still refusing to look at the ticket sale breakdown because since when were dreams ever measured in terms as superficial as numbers?
You’re the kid eying down a band you’re supposed to lead, four people whose names you barely remember, is the one with the infectious laugh Junsu or Yoochun and you feel like finding out, slowly getting used to how it feels like everything’s somehow going to turn out alright because some dreams work out better shared anyways.
You’re the kid feeling like his heart could explode because you’ve danced it out and gotten through, now something more than a name in a list, a printed out number, now one step closer to something you’ve been dreaming about all your life.
You’re the kid calling home a on a public payphone with the last of your money, quiet no I’m okay to a desperate come home, please, dreams are for dreamers and in the end they both amount to nothing.
You’re the kid bleeding on the sidewalk in a shady part of the city, people going out of their way to avoid you because everyone knows that hey, shit happens, it’s Seoul but what they don’t know is they can steal the money in your pockets, the ragged old backpack you’ve had since you were twelve but what they can’t touch is this dream you’ve had for as long as you can remember.
You’re the kid gaping wide eyed for the first time at skyscrapers, standing in a strange city that feels too big, too loud and there’s a canvas bag slung over one shoulder with your life thrown haphazard inside because dreams, they wait for no one, will lead you anywhere.
You’re the kid dancing in the middle of his bedroom in some backwater little place called Gwangju, the kid with a wonky smile and hours spent trying to prove them wrong when they say you can’t, won’t, never will.
You’re the kid with a dream.
[fin]
an- had a 2 1/2 hour bio paper and blank paper? this is...so...corny askjdbakj D: