“Dear Jiyong,

Won’t you come out to play?

Dear Jiyong,

Greet the brand new day.

The sun is up,

The sky is blue,

It’s beautiful,

And so are you.

Dear Jiyong. . .

Won’t you come out to play?”

 

Seunghyun, the blond male, held on to the neatly folded paper with slightly changed lyrics from its original song. He kneeled on his light colored pants on the wet ground; he could care less about the stupid expensive piece of clothing; nothing could buy or give him his happiness anymore.

His eyelids hooded over with pain as his free hand tangled with the grass, fingernails dirtying from trying to sink through the watery mud. He wanted to dig. Dig all the way down to his destination so he could stop feeling free. He closed his eyes and drew in a breath.

Take him away to Hell.

Behind his lids, he could see his band mate and secret lover from the public eye, Jiyong. He was in front of him, a cute and dorky smiling dancing upon his lips. His smile grew as Seunghyun felt a transparent touch of the small man’s hand cold on his cheek—feeling moisture in the touch. Another transparent hand trudged through his soft blond hair—feeling a rough and unnatural chill on his scalp as his hair moved in odd directions.

He opened his eyes to look at Jiyong.

He smiled with little courage as he recited the second to last stanza in his neat handwriting.

 

  “Dear Jiyong, open up your eyes.

Dear Jiyong, see the sunny skies.

The wind is low.

The birds will sing.

You’re beautiful.

You’re my everything.

Dear Jiyong, won’t you open up your eyes?”

 

Seunghyun’s smile became watery, faltering away as he looked at Jiyong’s pale gray face. He touched him. He was too smooth and too cold. Seunghyun wanted no more but to provide him a blanket or his arms.

His arms.

He dropped his paper and let the weather give it flight—he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around the oddly shaped, hard, cold Jiyong. So many thoughts sparked in his mind. The good memories. The everything they had together.

. . . The warmth that used to be.

 

 

 

 

  “How’s erry’ body tonight?!” G-Dragon had screamed to his American fans.

The beautiful cheers erupted from the stadium from all around.

Satisfied, G-Dragon nodded and jumped, “Erry’ body wanna dance tonight?!”

In the background, Daesung almost went unnoticed doing a little jig, lifting his mike and started singing to no music, “Dance! Woo~! I wanna dance, dance, dance, da-dance!”

  “FANTASTIC BABY!” The V.I.Ps screamed back

  “Music!

  “Yeogi buteora modu moyeora we gon party like riririrarara,

 

  “Mameul yeoreora meoril biwora bureul jipyeora riririrarara!”

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun held the hard Jiyong closer.

 

 

 

 

  “TOP-Sii, please wait in your dressing room,” his manager lightly ordered.

Seunghyun obeyed like a good idol and headed down the hall and into the dressing room, ready to prepare for another performance.

  “Jiyong!” Seunghyun called out into the room as he entered. Jiyong was giggling madly as he came in. Seunghyun came in to find his band mates watching Jiyong in his boxers, pulling down his over sized shirt and pranced around going, “I’m a lady!”

Seunghyun knew Jiyong was only trying one of his humor tactics on his band mates since they were all tired and feeling like nothing could make them anymore stressed than they were. Jiyong had to know he was successful once his boyfriend, Seunghyun, laughed in the doorway as the others just stared in amusement.

  “Seunghyun-Hyung!” He laughed out as he looked for his pants, “Shut the door!”

Seunghyun shook his head as he shut the door and sat down in front of the mirror, swerving his chair to face him, “What’s with the show?”

Jiyong pulled up his pants and fixed his shirt before shrugging, answering as if it weren’t unusual, “Just a good laugh.”

 

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun’s eyes clenched.

 

 

 

 

 

  “Seunghyun!” Jiyong caught up to the older, matching his pace as the walked to practice, “You didn’t even bring yourself water, did you?!”

Seunghyun chuckled as he was scolded by his leader and shook his head, “Forgot all about it.”

  “Well don’t you worry!” Jiyong smiled, “I brought tons,” he emphasized and held up his arms full of bottles, “Like a good leader should.”

They entered the room and Jiyong immediately just let all the bottles drop on a seat. They started stretching before practice started, the pair casually talked as if they were only friends—their choreographer unaware of their relationship (and they intended to keep it that way). But what no one—not even Jiyong—could see was that Seunghyun was eying Jiyong’s figure admirably. He wore a sleeveless shirt today, and Seunghyun would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t suit his leader’s look.

  “Seunghyun, Jiyong!” the choreographer shouted, “High High, now!” he snapped his fingers and started fixing the stereo.

They both knew not to kid; they were tight on time and they needed this practice to be serious. Jiyong walked to his place, jutting his out a little to tease Seunghyun. Maybe to cause him to trip over or something embarrassing that only Seunghyun could pull off. He stood in his place next to a few dancers and received the unexpected.

Seunghyun smirked and quickly kissed him as he passed by; the teacher oblivious. He lingered there for a moment before turning left in his own position, leaving a partially flustered Jiyong. He got into position and looked at his boyfriend from his side of the mirror.

It was so cute when a man like him was blushing and trying to play it off.

  “One, two, three! One-One, one, two, three!”

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun cried out. His deep voiced sobs matching the low pitch of the thunder around him. He was questioning everything in his life now. His band mate for long, long years now not answering was painful. He wanted nothing more than a hum he would rarely even get out of his younger. Just something. Anything. It would make him happy again. 

The thunder growled, the clouds darkening to black, signaling a violet storm was imminent.

  “I hate them,” Seunghyun whispered.

  “I hate that they did this to you. Out of everyone . . . it was them,” he whispered.

No response.

  “God, I miss you—”

The familiar tune of Haru Haru was playing around him and his daze had snapped.

His phone was ringing.

Lifelessly, he released Jiyong and accepted the call without an answer.

  “TOP-Sii,” his manager called lightly, knowing where he was, “TOP-Sii, I’m sorry, but you need to get here for vocal warm ups in a half hour. I’m sorry, we’ll be waiting.”

Beep.

And just then, the violent storm began, mixing with Seunghyun’s tears; now unable to tell them apart.

. . . In the distance, his paper was still flying . . .

He patted Jiyong’s state and stood in front and above him.

He wanted to look at the face the used to be bright with color. To look at the smile not only on his face, but in his eyes. To feel the small figure’s body heat when he hugged him. To listen to that hilarious yet legendary voice. To just hold his hand and kiss his cheek when he wasn’t paying attention to him. To make kissy faces with him on camera after the younger would get jealous that he’d done it with Dongwook.

. . . No more. 

Never again . . .

Forever.

With a shaky breath, he fell to his knees again; staring at the nasty ground and sang the last of the lyrics on the gone, floating, ruined paper.

 

  “Dear Jiyong, let me see you smile,

  “Dear Jiyong, like a little child,

The clouds will be a daisy chain,

 So let me see you smile again,

 

  “Dear Jiyong, won’t you let me see your smile again . . .

 

  “. . . Please?”

Jiyong didn’t touch Seunghyun at all. Jiyong didn’t move. Jiyong didn’t breathe. Jiyong didn’t smile. Jiyong didn’t try to calm him.

Seunghyun looked up before him and read.

 

 

 

 

                                                                     Kwon JiYong

            August 18, 1988 — August 20, 2012

                                              The definition of life lived to the fullest

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun hated this year—2013. Five (almost six) months without the star. No G-G-G-G baby, baby; GD-GD baby, baby for the fans.

And no Jiyong for his own comfort.

Seunghyun blubbered as he lunged forward to envelope the closest thing he was to Jiyong again—his name. The thing he would’ve loved to claim after they’d moved to America for their activities. He cried and screamed his name over and over again—screaming the name that could’ve come to be.

  “Choi Jiyong, Choi Jiyong, Choi Jiyong!”

He sniffed hard and sloppily retreated from the stone, now feeling the ground below him; the ground above Jiyong’s body. He pounded and pounded on it, wishing his fists were strong enough to blow a hole through it, able to take out his love from the coffin and find a way to restore life to him.

The fake glasses he didn’t notice he was wearing fell from his face and into the wet dirt, growing browner as water mixed with the ground around it; getting deeper into the mud—closer to Jiyong than he could ever be. He grew painfully jealous of it.

  “Choi Jiyong, Choi Jiyong, Choi Jiyong!” He screamed on and on for minutes.

Suddenly, fingers gripped his shoulders—they felt so real even though he was alone.

But they were real.

  “Jiyong?” Seunghyun screamed as he looked up from the ground.

Taeyang.

It was Taeyang.

  “Come on, man,” his voice cracked only a little, “It’s been over a half hour. Everyone’s worried. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Taeyang was not a big supporter of gay, but these were his band mates. He loved them too much to think any less of them after all these years together. He couldn’t stop loving them.

Especially now.

Now, when his Hyung was broken.

Taeyang hoisted the depressed rapper and guided him to his car, placing him in the back seat to lie down. Right now, he could care less about the muddy shoes on his floor or seats.

 

 

 

 

Seunghyun was driven away back to YG building immediately. He was unwilling to rap, but he still put on his show. All his efforts and emotions went right into his performance—all of it for Jiyong. No way would Jiyong want Big Bang to fall apart after all they built, and Seunghyun planned to keep them together, stronger than ever.

So he performed on.

A few months after his death, Seunghyun even composed a song with just as much heartbreak as his song, Oh Mom. Instead of his famous rapping, he sang the best he could—he knew Jiyong liked his amateur singing voice.

 

  "I will never find another like you. . .

My tears falling feel like acid in a storm. . . 

The world may love you, but I’ve love you more. . .

There is no past tense to us. . .

Forever, we are still together and very much alive. . .

I can’t not cry for you. . .

So I will cry."

 

 

 

 

 

The car driven out quickly for the sake of both boys’ lives—Taeyang’s eyes becoming watery as he drove. He needed to stop driving immediately, but he had to get them to the building.

Behind them, out of the cemetery, the thought-to-be-ruined paper was drenched, yet still perfect in picture of ink and still flying, falling down a few times until it made it past the tall fences and out into the street.

A girl was walking on the sidewalk along the cemetery fences with an umbrella in the nasty storm. She sniffed to how sick she was feeling, and walked a little faster.

Splat.

She looked up and found a limp paper stuck to the front of her umbrella, half hanging out.

Even though it was raining hard, she stopped walking and took the wet paper in her hand, still able to make out what was on it. 

She read the tidy handwriting of English. Being an English major, she read it with ease.

She may have read it with ease, but her emotions were definitely opposite.

  “Dear . . . Jiyong,” she read aloud slowly.

She turned the paper to the back to find an article.

She squeezed her eyes shut and began walking again after she read it. Tears fell down from her face as she clutched the familiar article she read months back and whispered, “VIPs will love you.”

 

 

 

 

August 20, 2012.

Today shall be a sad day for the YG music fans. Today, Kwon JiYong, known as the famous BIG BANG’s leader, G-Dragon, was found dead today on a local street in today’s rain.

On this day, GD had the day off as a late birthday rest for a present and a reward for such great leadership in recent activities. Fan girls instantly noticed him and rushed instantly towards the celebrity. Of course, GD allowed pictures and autographs in such a good mood.

  “He was so cheerful today!” A girl exclaimed before the incident.

  “We didn’t mean to be annoying, but . . . it’s G-Dragon!” Another one screamed before the incident.

On camera, it was caught that GD was apologizing, saying he wanted to walk around as freely as he could, but couldn’t escape the girls. He resulted in running, and the young women followed.

GD ended up cornered and entered a random tall building, running up the stairs and was still followed. When he’d entered the rooftop, he was cornered at the edge of the building as the girls came rushing up to him, asking for attention. The girls grew so close that GD stepped back a little, and foot slipped on the slippery edge, falling from the building, unable to even grasp the edge, falling to a gruesome death on a local taxi, still in one piece, but in plenty of profanity to not be put on television broadcast.

Every woman on the rooftop was cornered and all face a charge due to being the main reason for GD’s death.

Even if you aren’t a YG lover, or a BIG BANG lover, please, give your prayers to the dear Kwon JiYong, leader G-Dragon. 

Facts about his funeral will be revealed soon.

For now,

Goodbye beloved, sweet, and charismatic leader, G-Dragon. Your legend of fame is in all of our hearts.

 

 

 

Forever.

 

 

 

 

 

---Note~---

Hello~

This is one of the very first oneshots I've ever written, and was my first angst as well.

I find it easier to write about the SHINee fandom instead of any other, so I tried my best to keep to TOP and GD's personalities.

I really love this one shot; it's one of my favorites. I don't even know how I came up with this; I wasn't even listening to Dear Prudence to even find the inspiration for it.

I know that I did put my all into this oneshot because I  just . . . favor it so much. I've edited it at least a million times (let me know if there's still a stupid mistake) and a little disappointed that it didn't make it to 3,000 words.

Oh well.

Thank you to the lovely readers/subscribers and I hope you enjoyed this gloomy oneshot. ccc:

~Flaminhoe.