welcome to RE-BYE

a personified kpop rivalry site

06.01.18 a new skin update in time for our 1 year anniversary!

Needs: females, staff, other

sleepover !!

site wide anniversary event!

navigation

getting around

starter guide wanted ads member groups claims advertisements our discord
Lars
Penny
Mandee
Zee
Chai
Lyhe
Dessy
Nara

《DEBUT SPECIAL》8ctagon - Excited . 《DEBUT SPECIAL》UN1TY - Your Boy . 《COMEBACK SPECIAL》OLIVE - song . 《COMEBACK SPECIAL》The Baroness - Moment . 《COMEBACK SPECIAL》Vixen - Red Rover .





 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 Erase You Perfectly, Tag: Monster!!
kyung-ja ou
 Posted: Sep 2 2017, 06:42 PM
Quote
kyung-ja ou
Sealight Records
27 years old
written by Penny
73 posts



I'm (not) ready
@jihyun kim
Outfit
You Knew I'd Die Without You
Kakyuu knocked twice on the d*cht dorm's door, crossed her hands behind her back, and waited.

The rain outside made gentle splashes against the windowpanes that she could hear from here. She glanced over to the window, breathing deeply as lightning flashed across the grey clouds at a distance. It was certainly Fall now, and as she breathed out she wondered what that meant. OLIVE's comeback was a month away - it would mark almost three years to the day that they'd started their hiatus. It didn't feel like three years had passed since then - especially not in the Sealight dorms. Certainly, things had changed - and Fall especially always brought changes - but the eeriness of this situation was just how familiar it seemed, even if she'd never stopped here by the d*cht dorms before. She'd never had a reason to, until now.

Jihyun Kim - Monster - was a Gentleman with a capital G. She'd heard from plenty of people that he wasn't always, and that he was rather awkward (she could guess the last part, honestly)... but he'd always been unfailingly kind to her. Not a month had passed since Bayani's death that he didn't send her chocolates, and, starting in this last year, not a month had passed that she didn't write him back. It was never much - thank-you's, how-are-you's and catch-ups - but it was still an interaction that she'd missed. d*cht had been a group since she was in training, and she and Jihyun had specifically had to collaborate a few times once OLIVE had become ready to debut. His little thoughts had honestly gotten her through the worst of her depression during the hiatus.

She was here today to repay the favor. She had heard that his girlfriend had committed suicide a few months ago - he was probably incredibly lonely, and not to mention exhausted given that as far as she knew, they hadn't hiatused at all to give him time to grieve. She wasn't going to pretend she knew what, exactly, he was going through as well, but... she knew better than most people in this business.

A small bag attached to her wrist held things she thought he might like - she remembered his fondness for jigsaws, and plus his apparent candy love... there was also a book in there, one she'd read plenty of times during her hiatus. It was just a simple romance novel, but some of the passages had stunned her thoroughly for how true they rang. Maybe he could get a similar enjoyment of it. She hoped so.

PM
^
jihyun kim
 Posted: Sep 2 2017, 07:43 PM
Quote
jihyun kim
Sealight Records
32 years old
written by chai
107 posts



do i seem lonely because i am alone?

the rain is soft against the window. atmospheric, he would coin it. he can't tell. he's sipping cold, frigid water from a wineglass, staring outside of the large windows and glancing at the grey clouds. everything seems gray, quiet, dulled. there's the quiet hum of a woman's voice in the dorms from his phone playing lowly, a moody beat that echoes in his ears. the world is soft this evening, no rough edges and instead muting everything that he sees in similar shades. he sets down the glass on the clear table with a quiet clink, and continues staring outside of the window.

the world is quiet today.

there's no one else who lives in the d*cht dorms-occasionally they return, and money is still being extracted from their profits to pay for the cost of living. but they've all grown up, and the dorm is one of the only reminders of who they used to be. sometimes he wonders if d*cht is really what it's supposed to be, dreamed up by starry-eyed trainees with an image designated to them, words spilling out of their mouths like ink on paper as they wrote lyrics down. it seems like a dream. a lifetime ago, he would have slept in a different dorm with less space, curled near his groupmates and quietly confessing his fears to the empty room.

now is not so different. he can still think about them, sense their presence lingering in every corner of the room. he plucks his water up from the table from the stem of the glass, and continues sipping. as soon as the other members moved out of the dorm, he had taken his girlfriend in one evening, smiling and introducing her to the rest of the staff as his cousin except for the ones who knew. he had brought her to the room, light spilling in from the giant windows unto her flowing white sundress, twirling her around in his arms. she had laughed, drawn him closer, and kissed the crown of his head again and again until he lifted her in his grip unto the kitchen counter to rest his forehead against her, utterly tender and vulnerable for a fairy-slip of a girl who seemed so much older, so much younger, so much like an immortal goddess. she was so perfect, so perfect for him and so perfect without him.

a part of him recognizes her lack of perfection now. it's-difficult to do so. they were just-he doesn't doubt her love. he can't, because he believes in it so strongly that even if he were to try to convince himself otherwise that his very soul would rebel against what he was telling it. she loved him. she loved him, he's sure of it. it rings in his mind like a bell. but she was…imperfect. they were broken, in their own little ways, him more than her, and in a way they-he-triggered the collapse of the other. but that was why their love was so perfect, so impossibly magical, so storybook-esque.

when you were broken and didn't love your broken self, wouldn't you try to be perfect? wouldn't you seek to emulate that perfection for that person that you so loved, you so adored, you thought was perfect? two people, convinced that the other was exactly who they had been looking for. two people, broken in their own ways. two people, slowly breaking the other down. he stares at his glass, and then downs it. the water is cool. it does nothing. he can't drink right now. there's no alcohol in the dorm. he should have brought something. odd, to look at someone drinking by himself, but it's not foreign to monster, after years and years by being by himself.

the door knocks. he ignores it, at first, convinced that it's another dream, and stares at his empty glass, watching drops of water slide down the side to collect in the flat of the cup. nothing happens. the woman keeps on singing. a piano joins the instrumentation. he doesn't care enough to listen further.

the door knocks again. jihyun's grip on his glass loosens. he almost drops it.

a dream. a mirage. a hallucination.

he shouldn't be thinking about her.

he stands up anyways. he sets his glass down. jihyun strides over, and opens the door. his eyes widen.

"ah," he says, shocked. his voice is hoarse. he hasn't talked to anyone in the past two days. he coughs, once, into his fist, and then speaks again. "i wasn't expecting visitors. come in. please."

he steps aside. the air in the d*cht dorm is frigid, he knows. jihyun is wearing gloves and a jacket indoors. a cane lies in the corner of the dining room, which the front door opens to. he trusts kyungja enough for her not to ask questions. he steps over to turn off his phone's music, and pulls out a chair for her, taking a seat himself. the sound of the wood scraping against the tile is uncomfortably loud in the silent dorm. he glances at her. the sound of the rain seems louder. it must have worsened.

"what brings you in here?" he asks her, finally. he hopes he doesn't seem as haggard as he feels. he almost wants to tell her you shouldn't have come here. he won't, of course. his fingers twitch underneath the table on his thigh. this is jihyun in his rawest form: the type of slump he gets stuck in when he chokes on the toxic secrets that he accumulates, hoards like a dragon would his gold. he doesn't live, those days. he survives. jihyun is merely a passing spirit, observing, glancing, closing his eyes, disappearing. it's been particularly bad recently, even with his lightness at the idol star athletic championships. his eyes glance at her. he shakes his head, slowly. "if you don't want to divulge, that's fine. can i get you anything?"


they don't know each other that well, him and kyungja. for him, it's like living on two sides of a glass wall: aware the other exists, but never able to reach, touch, connect. though, if anything…a wry, bitter smile grows on his face. he's heard about bayani. everyone has. what a terrible topic of conversation. what a terrible thing to bond over. what a terrible thing to share in common. what a terrible thing to…understand. to remember. to live through, every single day.

but it's one of their only things.


@kyung-ja ou
suPER EXCITED | MOOD SONG
PM
^
kyung-ja ou
 Posted: Sep 3 2017, 01:11 AM
Quote
kyung-ja ou
Sealight Records
27 years old
written by Penny
73 posts



I'm (not) ready
@jihyun kim
Outfit
You Knew I'd Die Without You
Kyung-Ja was a little surprised when there was no answer. Well... to be more precise, she was more surprised he hadn't come to answer by the time a crash of thunder broke her spell of watching the lightning through the window. She paused, hand lingering in a fist by the nameplate. Was he even here? She heard rumors that d*cht was never in their dorms beside him, so if he was out... No one would know she was here. The thought was strange - hopeful and nagging, but melancholic all the same. She was prepared for this. She'd even thought up how to introduce all of this to him - he was a private person, and most people here at Sealight didn't know about his girlfriend. For all intents and purposes, she wasn't supposed to know about her, either... but she and Jihyun had mutual friends, or friends who knew friends who knew what was going on. She hadn't heard about it until too late, but she was determined to make up for the lost time now. Her heart went out to him - if Bayani had been her secret... she wasn't sure how she could have gotten through any of this.

That thought pushed her forward. Even if he was gone, she had to at least try one more time. Maybe he was in the shower or something, after all. She knocked once more, and went back to her waiting stance.

She didn't have to wait too long this time - the older man came to the door, looking surprised and genuinely startled to see her waiting there. She only smiled more - she was hoping to surprise him. She just hoped she hadn't interrupted anything important... his voice sounded hoarse. She swallowed involuntarily - had he been crying? Or worse - was he getting sick? She tried to hide the gentle concern - Jihyun was older, and wasn't in her band. She had no right to mother him like she was about to. "I'm sorry for turning up unannounced..." A 'but' fell onto her tongue, but quickly dropped off, stifled by the beauty of the dorm she'd just entered into.

Everything looked so... pristine and spotless. She kept a tight ship around the OLIVE dorms, but they looked nothing like this - white walls, white carpeting, white furniture with black accents... it was as if dust production had been suspended here. It looked sharp. If Jihyun was the only one who ever was here... he must spend all his time elsewhere. Or he cleaned often. Thinking about it, neither reason was happy. She remembered the first week out of the ward she'd been placed into for her own protection - she refused to stay in the dorms, and refused to be anywhere she'd been with Bayani. Instead, she'd stayed out as late as possible with friends or alone, crashing on couches if at all possible to just be away from it all before her parents offered to let her have her old room back for a while. It was embarrassing... but she was just glad that Sealight had given them a new dorm when they'd come back. She couldn't fathom having to stay here... had his girlfriend lived with him at all? She froze as she followed him in. Was she standing where she once stood? The ghost of someone she'd never even met felt oppressive here. She kept close to him instead.

On the upside, his music was beautiful, and she was almost sad he turned it off. Still... it wasn't her place to protest, or mention the elegant cane she saw propped up nearby. She once again was caught staring out the wide windows at the rain as it grew in intensity while Jihyun pulled out a chair for her.

She set the bag on the table gently as she sat, and she smiled at him softly. "No, I don't need anything, really... But I wanted to give you this." She pushed the bag closer to him. "As a thank you, for being there for me for so long."

She should tell him she knew. She knew she should... but the words weren't coming yet. She'd had this planned earlier, but it was gone now... she hoped she could get better at this.

PM
^
jihyun kim
 Posted: Sep 3 2017, 02:29 PM
Quote
jihyun kim
Sealight Records
32 years old
written by chai
107 posts



do i seem lonely because i am alone?

"it's…nothing," jihyun addresses her, despite how she left off. he's done a lot. they all have. turning up unannounced is hardly a crime, considering. he can't help sweeping his gaze over her hair. he's always associated kakyuu with a sort of fiery passion, a dedication to the arts, a kerosene-lit fiery dynamic on stage. in this light, she looks muted, elegant, nostalgic. he supposes they all do, washed out in shades of gray. the connotation of color. her hair reminds him of black lace gloves, sweeping layers of silk skirts, velvet lipstick and sweet, sad smiles against glowing neon signs and drab backgrounds. she looks like a ghost of her former self, in a way. no, that's not the word. she's-another form of kakyuu, one that he has never encountered.

funny what lighting can do, he muses. if he had a camera, he would almost be tempted to take a photo of her, eyelashes curling up with the crescent of her eyes. almost. his fingers twitch involuntarily, itching for the familiar weight. he doesn't indulge it. he hasn't ever since her death. a selfish thing to do. completely unnecessary.


but…


he is a still, frozen figure, trying desperately to figure out to do in a world without someone he cared about. and the thing is-he forgets that she's gone, sometimes. she has been such a large part of him, but sometimes he forgets about her, thoughts crowding at the back of his head. but then he turns around to smile at her, or puts out his hand to get the towel whenever he's drying dishes, and there's nothing there. it hurts, like a stinging slap, in those moments, and his loss has never felt so apparent. her things are still in his home, clean and spotless as if she could come home any moment. he never goes into the rooms otherwise, but they're there, waiting for their lost owner to come back. on her bed sits a small box, where the photo that brought them together lies inside.


the soft weight in the bag that she sets down on the table draws his attention. she doesn't say anything, and instead he is brought to fill in the silences, and her smile…there is something warm in it. he can't say why he begins to trust her so implicitly with a smile, and his instincts have been wrong so many times before that he cannot say that he is doing the right thing. but he's sent gifts so many times to her that he doubts that she holds a grudge against him-or perhaps she does? it's so hard to tell. it's hard to understand the human part of a relationship when he hardly feels human in these days, instead like a haunted ghost that still roams the word, unable to leave his ground. half of him was taken away, and now he needs to learn how to live as he was as an incomplete whole.


poetic. too much so. there's nothing poetic about drinking wine at two am and not caring enough about yourself to close your eyes even when they burn from staring at the ceiling for too long, unable to fall asleep. sometimes he doubts himself, doubts his memory, and he doesn't believe himself.


thunder booms outside. it's rather distant-sounding, but loud, nonetheless. he almost flinches.

"for me?" he says softly, almost incredulous. he takes it quietly into his hands, but he can't help but have the urge to refuse it. his hands hover on the surface, hesitant to touch it. it feels wrong, somehow. he can't accept this gift, can he? it was what anyone would do-and he can't say that his intentions were all pure. he sent her his gifts because he could emphasize, a lot-and in a way, because of that, she reminded him of himself. and if he couldn't make himself feel better…perhaps he could help her. selfish purposes, but true ones. he doesn't know where he stands on that. he brushes a finger against the top, subtly, and feels something move. it's rather bumpy. pieces of something? "no. it was nothing, truly…you would be better off thanking the other members of olive."

he smiles, but the words stand heavy in the air. he supposes that's his fault. jihyun glances at her, measured, and then takes it, moving it an inch to his right. "not to say that i'm not grateful. thank you. it was…very thoughtful of you."

unexpected. but that doesn't take away the consideration that must have gone into the gift. he won't open it unless she urges him to, however-or at least, not in front of her. instead, he rises and pours himself a glass of water, getting her one as well. even if she doesn't drink it, it's only polite. he uses proper cups this time, porcelain white shapes without handles, simple and minimalistic with a black interior. cold water splashes in, matching in time to the rain outside. he sets them both down on the table, waits a single beat, and then sips quietly from his cup before setting it down.

"it's raining a lot today," he notes absently. lightning flashes, a vibrant flash of color under the dim light in the kitchen. he hadn't turned the lights on. there was no reason to, but now…the clock blinks as a minute passes. the rain makes sounds outside. plink. plink. plink. "rain is always so much more beautiful when you're not caught up it yourself. it looks romantic from this view, doesn't it? ah…excuse me. i'm rather out of sorts today."

"is that all you came for, however?" he prods gently. it's not that he wants her to leave, but rather he believes that she didn't just come here to give him a gift. it would be foolish to assume otherwise, wouldn't it? she could have sent that to him. visiting would have been…completely unnecessary. it's not…bad, however. having her here. it's…oddly pleasant. he appreciates her presence. he appreciates her companionship, though she's only been here for a few moments. it helps in keeping his mind busy, his demeanor relaxed. as relaxed as it can be. "that seems unlikely, though it's not very polite of me to say so. i'm not doubting your intentions. i'm just…curious, i suppose."


@kyung-ja ou
suPER EXCITED | MOOD SONG
PM
^
kyung-ja ou
 Posted: Sep 3 2017, 08:27 PM
Quote
kyung-ja ou
Sealight Records
27 years old
written by Penny
73 posts



I'm (not) ready
@jihyun kim
Outfit
You Knew I'd Die Without You
Kyung-Ja noticed, offhand, that the lights were dim - if they were on at all. She didn't look around to check, but the effect was one of delicate shading and cool muting of the colors present in the room. She wouldn't have been able to tell if she hadn't caught a glimpse of herself in the window, drab and gray even against the storm clouds overhead.

Still, she smiled gently at Jihyun. It was okay that she turned up unannounced. He wasn't making any move to push her out - so she assumed he was telling the truth. She knew the feeling - being too afraid to seek someone out, too worried that her presence would be a burden or a dejecting sight, only to have someone show up and take her into their arms to try to dash that fear. It never went away, but it always helped... how wonderful that she had the opportunity to be that light for someone else, if he so chose her to be.

It was funny. Something about this seemed so... pure. Mystic, certainly, and predictably somber, but pure nonetheless. She felt every movement, heard every pitty-patter of the rain outside. Here and now felt wholly untainted - a feeling of safety that didn't feel nearly as precarious as it probably should have.

She remembered the first time she'd written him. She was at her parents' house outside of Seoul, and the newest batch of chocolates in an unmarked package had sat on the counter for two hours because she'd been working in the garden when the postman came. In the unusually hot sun, they'd melted... and it was when she opened the lid, seeing the flavors running together and knowing that no amount of freezing would put them back the way they were supposed to be, that she realized she was feeling an uncharacteristically intense mourning.

She hadn't really cried until then. Nothing had truly set in until that moment when something she'd looked forward to, something she'd had and taken for granted for so long, was suddenly unavailable to her. She tried to remind herself that it was just chocolate but it wasn't really. It was a gateway to finally stepping forward in her grieving process to make all of this right now possible.

Her letter had been, initially, to thank him. It was supposed to be small and simple, but it became a lot more than just a thank you. She wasn't sure if he had picked up on anything she'd put in there - if he remembered how her first letter had been two pages, praising his work and his kindness. She was sure that they were handmade, after all... and she wasn't sure if he remembered the next letter, how she'd made sure it was smaller and folded in as nice a way as possible, and how she thanked him, again and again, for something so simple and sweet that he'd never needed to do, but that had made a world of difference for her.

The clap of thunder broke her from her thoughts just as it did him. She smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes- it isn't much, but I thought it might be nice. I hope you like them." He would, she was sure of it. She remembered him well enough, right? The next part just made her smile grow a bit, a silent laugh. "I already have. They're practically my family." He could be a part of their family too, if that was what he wanted. She knew that the d*cht members seemed to all have their own controversies and frustrations, their own eternal upset... that wasn't conducive for the teamwork necessary to make a group work. But he thanked her - he was grateful. She was glad.

He stood up, and her eyes followed him. He grabbed an extra cup from the cupboard without asking, and she smiled anew. For a brief moment her mind flicked back to an early morning in a then-unfamiliar room uptown, the smell of coffee hanging in the air. She let herself take the cup as it was passed to her, sipping the black water before setting it back on the table and following his gaze out the window.

When his voice floats through, she doesn't look over. She just nods, and breathes in time with the rhythm she hears. He was out of sorts. She wondered what sorts someone could be in, in this situation. He was doing okay - not fine, and definitely not well... but he was holding on with a strength she could only describe as admirable. It was remarkable. "It is," she agrees, after a moment. "Romantic, that is."

His next question catches her off guard, but she doesn't blame him. She seemed suspicious. She'd given no notice, no anything. He had every right to wonder why she was here. She looked back to him finally, and took a sip of her water. "I wanted to see how you were doing... I heard from a friend that someone close to you passed away relatively recently." It was only a soft lie, one she hoped he'd begrudge her. "I wanted to see if there was anything you needed that I could do for you."

PM
^
jihyun kim
 Posted: Sep 3 2017, 11:22 PM
Quote
jihyun kim
Sealight Records
32 years old
written by chai
107 posts



do i seem lonely because i am alone?

she looks so mature.

the thought takes him by surprise. he knew her when she was nineteen, far cuter than alluring. now she's here at his door, eyelashes dark and hair light, her dark lipstick matching the shade of her top. it's not anything, but…he knew her when she was sixteen. the thought is something that he doesn't know what to do with, and so jihyun takes another quiet sip from his glass. she's grown up well, if that means anything. he knows that.

they talked to each other in the hallways, brief snippets of conversation that were just as long as his nonexistent conversations with minyoung and byeol. they were short. they had interacted some, worked together in relative silence, and greeted each other at social events and functions. he remembers that much. he remembers clapping for olive once they won awards, smoothing out the creases in his jacket as he smiled-wholeheartedly smiled-for them, leaning on another member's shoulder to whisper in their ear about how pretty minnie looked in that dress, how byeol looked stunning, how kakyuu's voice had been particularly beautiful that evening, how bayani looked like he was glowing. he talked a lot, those days. he was quieter, now. more reserved.

they didn't talk. kakyuu was sweet. he sent her chocolates after bayani's death. candies. expensive things, things that he made himself, a mix of the two, a handwritten note in his careful penmanship that distinctly and clearly had her name, address, and nothing else. he didn't know how to cope with death then. he still doesn't.

loss is something that no one should ever learn how to deal with. loss and love are two of the most changing, transformative things in the world, and they should stay as untouchable, inevitable forces.

she had sent letters back. he didn't read them at first. he didn't think he was allowed to, and so instead he set them aside in a small box for when, if ever, the situation ever arose when he could. he bumped into them when he was cleaning out her things, half a year from now and so long from bayani's death. he had taken a bottle of wine, poured it, and began to read through her korean characters. she had said a lot of things. she had thanked him, had written words upon words of his praise. he had smiled, folded it back up, and stored it in the pocket of his coat. he still has the letters, locked in a wooden box in his room. she must have been exaggerating. no one could think that highly of himself. there was nothing to admire, after all. monster is simply himself. she must be a rather odd person if she thinks otherwise, but he's been meeting a few odd people lately.

he hadn't responded. it would seem odd to do so, years later, completely out of place for him to do so. he began to write something, once, and then gave up when he hadn't been able to get much more than a dot on a piece of lined paper to draft out his thoughts. the dot had eventually turned into the elegant shape of a piano note, and then another, and then another. he had forgotten about the original purpose of the letter when he had drawn crooked lines for it to become a makeshift music sheet. he had redone it, later, on more proper materials, smoothing out the imperfections, and it had become a song. not a song on any of their albums, but a song, nonetheless. he's played it, sometimes, in their dorm with an old keyboard across his lap in vlives. it's not one of his favorite.

family. he hasn't toyed with the thought of family for a while, but it's the same with him. undeniably, they are his family. he would do anything for them, and he hopes that they know that-that they are comforted by the fact that their leader would do anything for them. they've…they are close. they've spent so much time together that jihyun can rattle off a list of injustices against him caused by his group members in alphabetical order. "i'm glad you have that family," he tells her instead. "truly."

she talks about a death.

jihyun drops his cup.

it's mostly empty, by now. the impact on the ground is almost obscene: loud, shattering, and immediately breaking the tentative amount of peace that had accumulated in the apartment. he stares at her with wide eyes, never once breaking eye contact. the water seeps across tile, and the pieces of it remain stationary after tinkling across the kitchen floor. she knows. "leave it," he says immediately, sharper than he intended it to be. and then, softer, more pleadingly, "leave it."

he's not talking about the cup anymore. he's not sure what he's talking about.

before this, not a lot of people could say that they heard monster beg. he was just impeccably in control of his own devices, a serious-then-silly figure. he wishes he brought something stronger than water. there had to be something in their dorms, right? men in their thirties, and not a single thing to drink. ridiculous. nowadays, all monster seems to do is beg. he almost stands up and leaves the conversation, but then he realizes that would be rude. that all kakyuu wants to do is help. at least, that's what he tells himself is the reason. he just…doesn't want her to see how much of a wreck he's become. that all he relies on nowadays is alcohol and something much, much weaker, more self-destructive. he stays there at the table, glancing at kakyuu warily. the tension in the room builds, a weak link. the thunder strikes again, a few beats behind the lightning. his friendliness is gone, replaced with a politeness that he doesn't know what to do with. he sounds calmer than he is. his heartbeat thuds against the cage of his ribs, asking to come out and explode. "what do you know?"

do anything for you. do anything for him? jihyun almost scoffs. instead, he keeps a straight face. he sighs.

"kyungja," he says. there are no formalities, no honorifics, no masks, no respect, no boundaries, no wishes, no words for this that fit perfectly. they are here. they exist. there is nothing else. he looks her straight in the eye. plink. plink. plink. it's too quiet, too dark, too reminiscent of when he was blind. he's not blind anymore. not blind in love, not blind in anything else. "kyungja. there is nothing that you can do. there is nothing that there is to do."

a pause. his eyes look weighted. he wants to tell her that there's nothing to do for a broken heart. that's a lie, of course. she stands before him, looking relatively happy and healthy. he's happy for her. he really is, in his own, terrified way, in the way that he feels scared to love another person now because they all seem to leave him in the end. he watches her breathe, disconnected from the world at hand, and says, "i'm sorry. she meant a lot to me." a short, bitter laugh. he drags his hand down his face. "who am i kidding? she still means a lot to me. she always will."

she looks so mature.

he knew her when she was nineteen.

she's twenty-six, now. she's not nineteen. they're not two separate lines. they've met. they're collided. this is the crux of it.


@kyung-ja ou
suPER EXCITED | MOOD SONG
PM
^
kyung-ja ou
 Posted: Nov 17 2017, 12:02 AM
Quote
kyung-ja ou
Sealight Records
27 years old
written by Penny
73 posts



2 million years later sob
@jihyun kim
Outfit
You Knew I'd Die Without You
Kyung-Ja remembered the first time she met the Monster of d*cht. It, like basically every other time she met someone experienced and in the industry as a trainee, was burned onto her memory. Still, it felt so far away - it had been ten years, after all, and that was a long time.

D*cht had come into the practice rooms one day. She'd already met Won and was sitting off to the side with him and a few friends, stretching after their dance practice and getting ready to sing. Their normal instructor had come in - with the popular and experienced band coming in behind them. Pretty much all of them had been completely stunned and excited - d*cht was actually one of the first bands they'd gotten to see, and at the time they were definitely the most famous. Kyung-Ja and a few others were paired up with Monster to work on the lead vocals on the song they were learning - and he'd told them to call him Jihyun. At the time it had been such a big deal, and now...

Well, now she went to talk to trainees sometimes and see their excited faces and be able to sing with them. It was a fulfilling feeling.

Her letters weren't really an exaggeration - at least, they weren't intended as such. She actually genuinely liked him - even if, in a way, she was certainly idealizing and idolizing him. To her, he seemed monolithic - untouchable, incredibly kind and generous. Was it wrong?

How would she know?

She smiled softly. "I am too. They're wonderful. I... I don't know what I'd do without them." It occurred to her that that sounded cliche, disingenuously so, but it was too late to take it back.

The clink of his cup as it hit the table made her jump more than the splat as it shattered on the ground, pieces skidding all over the tile. She stares at the cup on the ground, only glancing up as he begs her to leave it. Her hand stills. She didn’t know she’d almost gotten up instinctively.

...She supposes she hadn’t been subtle enough. She shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here at all.

Thunder strikes. She looks up to him, face mournful and solemn. How much does she know? She bites the inner corner of her lip a moment before her mouth opens - for a moment, no words come out. But he cuts her off anyway, says her name and stares her straight in the eye.

Nothing?

She meant - and means - the world to him. She can understand that. That isn’t nothing. They’re here now, talking, or were - that isn’t nothing, either. What he did for her wasn’t nothing.

”Jihyun…” There’s so much she wants to say. ”It’s okay. There really… there really isn’t anything for you to apologize for. If anything, I should be the one apologizing, for coming in like this and trying to sneak around you.” ...But it was more than just that. ”...I know she will. I wish I could tell you that you stop feeling so deeply for them after a while… but that isn’t true.” For a moment, she was nervous - would that be off-putting? ”But I can say that it gets easier… if you allow yourself to grieve.”


PM
^
jihyun kim
 Posted: Nov 19 2017, 12:38 AM
Quote
jihyun kim
Sealight Records
32 years old
written by chai
107 posts



do i seem lonely because i am alone?

"you-" jihyun says, something immeasurably full of this type of feeling that he doesn't know what to do bubbling out of his chest at her reassurances. "you-"

he smiles. he shakes his head.

he can't say anything.

but it's not a happy smile. it's not-it's not anything, not particularly that he can define, but this wrenching feeling in him that feels like something is clouding up his throat and making it hard to speak. when he breathes, he can feel himself at the edge of flowing over and crying. nothing has even happened, and yet-here he is, almost crying. that should say something about him. he thinks it does.

"you don't need to-" he chokes out, voice torn at the edges, and blinks away tears that collect on his eyelashes. he turns away a moment too late. one traces the edge of his jaw, lingering before it falls on the floor. he doesn't wipe any of them away. they feel as if they stick against his skin, uncomfortable and cold, and he has never wanted to feel this way in front of anyone. he gestures with his hands behind him, all too-aware of the empty air. "you don't need to comfort me, you know."

there's very little point.

there are days where he thinks he's making progress, lets the thought seep into his bones pleasantly, doesn't think about her at all-and then he spends the next days in agony with every waking thought haunted. he makes two cups of coffee in the morning and holds one out to nothingness. he moves to open the door for another person and stops when he realizes that no one's there. he locks himself into a room and sips at a bottle of wine until he stops thinking, until everything is blissfully blank-

and then sometimes he finds himself pressing desperately at other people, biting at them until they break because that's not right, nothing is right without her, and then sometimes physically, pressing himself against someone else in search of a comfort that doesn't exist. there's searing heat and burning cold. sometimes he listens to music all day and hardly stirs, dulling his senses in a fear of existence.

there are days where he thinks he's moving on, yes.

there are more bad days. there are more days when he doesn't move on, when loss grips at his insides and forces him to kneel.

"kyungja," he doesn't say as much as breathes, feels it rippling through his body. kyungja knows. oh, god, she knows. how much does she know? "i'm grieving."

"i know i need to go through the loss in order for the pain to lessen," he says, fiercer, louder, feeling like something is burning a hole in his chest. "i know, but still-"

"i wake up and it hurts my heart to breathe because she's not there," he says. he's crying, he realizes. his breaths are ragged, trying to catch up. the bones of his ribs feel like a cage, trapping his heart inside as it beats erratically. it's not supposed to hurt, this-living, is it? it shouldn't. he thinks it shouldn't, and yet when he looks back now he can think of nothing but hurting. "i am grieving. sometimes i walk by and i see someone with her hair and i almost reach out. sometimes i just cry. sometimes i can't even do that."

"i was going to ask her to get engaged," he admits. he curls onto himself. "i still have her ring. i know where it is. i can't look at it. i can't not look at it. after she died-my eye injury, you know that? i thought it would be better if i couldn't see in a world without her. sometimes i still think-"

his breath catches with his sobs. he moves, bracing one elbow on his sides to breathe better. he doesn't look at kyungja.

"you said i didn't have to apologize for anything," he says, quieter. his thoughts roar in his ears. he feels a sense of panic that he tries to push away, cover up, and that makes it thump quicker in his blood, filling his veins up to brimming. his mind is full of kerosene and ammonia. it longs to erupt. he wipes at his tears with the edges of his fingers. the gloves are slippery and have little effect, but it comforts him. he feels like he's putting little pieces of himself back together with every movement, tiny things that have almost little change-but he wants to convince himself that he's doing something.

"i still should."

"you saw me like this," he says. he doesn't offer anything else.


@kyung-ja ou
suPER EXCITED | MOOD SONG
PM
^
kyung-ja ou
 Posted: Dec 31 2017, 06:29 PM
Quote
kyung-ja ou
Sealight Records
27 years old
written by Penny
73 posts



thisis always SO HEAVY to post in
@jihyun kim
Outfit
You Knew I'd Die Without You
Jihyun is on the verge of tears - one falls right in front of her eyes. Her eyebrows knit in - she doesn't have to comfort him. But she wants to. She reaches for him, unable to truly stop herself as her thumb draws slowly over his cheek. It's an intimate gesture, one she realizes all too late as she quickly pulls her hand away, and bows her head.

Shame.

For once in her life, Kakyuu feels genuine deep shame.

Presumptuous. That was a word she forgot could describe her just as much as anyone else. She'd hurt him. Obviously he was grieving. Obviously he was letting himself grieve - how couldn't he? It was impossible not to grieve when you were faced with such a crippling loss. And she'd just assumed, for a brief moment, that he was ignoring it all, trying to push on despite it.... and that wasn't true at all.

She always was rather rude.

What he says... stings. Not just because of her shame, but because it's like a punch to the gut. She knows exactly what he's feeling. She knows. It's deep, and raw, and every single thing sets something off. Someone looks like them. You still have everything of their's - all the things they gave you, some you planned to give them, some that just became yours automatically like some sick inheritance.

Sometimes your pain becomes your entire life because they're gone.

When he says his near-apology, her eyebrows knit in tighter. She worries - what can she do to help him now? How much can similarities help, in a situation like this? She knows what she wants to do, but she worries - her hands twitch, ready to move and wrap him into her tightest bear hug. But that would be... rude. Wouldn't it?

"...Jihyun..." Her voice is quiet, sympathy tears rising up. "...I'm sorry." She bites her lip, just a corner, pulling it in as she watches. "...I didn't want to hurt you. And now I have... I was selfish and inconsiderate. I'm sorry."

PM
^
jihyun kim
 Posted: Feb 12 2018, 03:49 PM
Quote
jihyun kim
Sealight Records
32 years old
written by chai
107 posts



do i seem lonely because i am alone?

he jerks away from her touch the same time she draws her hand away, and the tiny droplet of water falls on the ground. it must - even though that's the farthest thing from his focus right now. his eyes are wide in shock, disbelief, and he's not - he doesn't - how does one even -

he thinks of everything that's broken today, and thinks that it's only fitting if he breaks down as well. it's just his luck. this is exactly what he didn't and did anticipate, all wrapped up in one.

only you, jihyun.

who said that? he can't remember. it's slipping through his head. he thinks it was her, it had to be. he doesn't cling to other people that way, doesn't remember them half as clearly. she had meant everything to him, and even more so after she had died, because he's so afraid of forgetting. what if he forgets? he can't. no one will remember her then, her smile, her laugh, the way that she had always made fun of him for wearing sunglasses on rainy days, dressing in all black as if it were always a funeral.

but he also can't forget - because she's here, she's always here, because she's a part of him and he thinks that he could die if she left him fully, a part of him so strongly rooted in her that he forgot where she began and he ended, what he was like before her or even if there was a before her. does kyungja feel the same? does she go somewhere and see the ghost of someone she knows smiling down at her and feel the inexplicable urge to cry in front of everyone? does she feel their presence so strongly within her that she forgets they're gone, doesn't even know how they could be gone without taking her along with them?

he thinks that always. it's a constant. at this point, it's almost white noise. (almost, almost, almost.)

i'm sorry, he wants to say to kyungja. please don't look at me. please don't touch me.

ah...

what is this...

he raises a hand to his face, messily brushing away his tears. they keep on falling regardless, and his fingers brush over the spaces underneath his eyes, where she had brushed her thumb underneath. he can't stop but see her. he hasn't allowed anyone to come near his eyes since

( - he was blinded)

she died.

it hurts, though, something raw and primal tearing itself out of his chest. it hurts, and it won't stop hurting. rather selfishly, he thinks that he's suffered enough, hasn't he? why won't it leave him alone why won't it leave her alone why won't it leave both of them alone who is both of them who is he seeing is it the right one who is she what did she do i don't

"i'm sorry."

he chokes on something that might be his hurt. it might be his pain, his tears, it might be laughter - he can't really tell, burying his face into his hands and turning away so she can't look at his face, his expression. why is she apologizing when he's like this, he should be the one apologizing, she's done nothing wrong. is it there something wrong with him that makes people feel the sadness that he doesn't know how to bear? "i-i don't - "

his voice breaks on a gasp, a trembling cough, and he sucks in air like his life depends on it, body racking with his uneven, quiet sobs. his chest rises and falls. he barely notices. his head feels dizzy, unstable as if he's tipsy, thrumming with a thick, uneven beat that he might recognize as his heartbeat. "i...think i would have ended up hurt anyways, kyungja, one way or the other. and y-you're - "

he can't finish.

he can't stay here and pretend that he's fine in front of her, either. she knows, and he knows she knows, and what to do with that? how can he walk around this woman who has gone through a similar experience as he has and emerged stronger for it pretending that he's the same when they both know he's not? they may both be made out of stardust, but they're made out of different stuff, the two of them.

even now, he feels the twist of a familiar white-hot knife. shame, mirrored in her. how does he -

apologize?

he's apologized so many times before. at some point, it becomes meaningless, but he wants to do his best. he wants to do better. he wants to, but can he? he doesn't know. he's tried so many times before, and even with her at his side he wasn't able to.

and him now - him now! - half of the person he was, the half that she left behind. how could he change?

he stands up and opens his mouth as if to say something, but there's only silence.

his hand makes an aborted, half-completed gesture at his side. he walks over to the sink, turning on the water, and tries to remember how to breathe.

the rain pours on, uncaring.


@kyung-ja ou
me, throughout this post: lmao wtf am i doing | MOOD SONG
PM
^
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll