A one-shot in reference to The Siren prompt in KFics Anthology Contest (Wattpad)

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warning: some mature themes ahead. pretty daring to be a contest entry but heyyyyy

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Can I Be Him - James Arthur

It's the middle of the night but neither of you are sleeping. You're tangled on the sheets together, limbs to limbs, and you revel at the warmth of her skin against yours, warmth that will never be for you.

"Junhoe..." Chaeyoung breathes in between kisses as she drags her soft, soft, lips on your chest. The hair on your arms stand up and you can't deciper if it's because of the kisses or the way your name rolls on her lips.

"Junhoe..." she repeats and your chest feels tighter for a reason. You know she needs you bad but never exactly you. You go ahead anyway and give her what she wants. Isn't that the whole point of loving? Giving but never expecting anything in return.

Her kisses lead up to your neck, until they reach your lips, and suddenly, you're both caught in a war of tongues, and maybe, a little bit of her heart. You're always at war with that one. You're lost in every movement she makes, the way her lips perfectly fit on yours, the soft scratches she makes at your nape, and at the back of your mind, the scary thought comes, like the thief of the night, robbing every nice thing you thought you can have.

She wishes you're someone else.

No, at this point, you know you're someone else. You never felt much love in her touches before. She's clinging desperately to you like you're her last thread of hope. You are, truthfully, because you're just a side character in her own fiction and that hurts a little more than you'd like to admit. You're the stand-in, the second best, the understudy, like Robin to Batman, like Woobin to Minho.

Her lips are singing another name, two syllables completely different from yours. It's a name you wish she'll forget but never can, no matter how gentle you hold her in your arms, no matter how much you try to piece back the shattered pieces of the once her, because you'll never ever make her feel complete. You're not the missing piece. That position will always belong to someone else, a position you desperately try to fulfill.

She's yours but can never be completely yours, because she's her own person and because she thinks she's still with somebody else, someone who isn't you but enough to be him.

You place your hands on the sides of her hips, your fingers digging gently on her bare skin. She melts in your touch and you wish that when she closes her eyes, it's you that she's thinking about. But you know that's not the case. She's doing everything to forget, or maybe, remember something that should've stayed as a past. You're the vessel and regretfully, her memories are the things which brings you to life.

You remember the first night you meet her on that dingy bar. She's wearing a beautiful red dress three-fourths down her thighs, with cowboy boots and hair flowing down her back like waves of the endless seas. A guitar's strung around her shoulder as she takes the center stage, repositioning the mic, fingers nervously wrapping over the piece.

"Good evening, everybody," she begins, a shy smile painting across her red-stained lips. She continues as she looks at someone at the back, someone who must have given her confidence as she speaks with more clarity in her tone. "I'm Park Chaeyoung, your singer for tonight."

She sits at the stool, crosses her legs after and it's the first time you notice how long and slim they are. She weighs the guitar on her lap and moves her fingers on the strings, strumming to the first chords of a popular and overused song speaking about a lover who thinks he's still holding on.

You hate the song but now that she's singing it, it's quite bearable in your ears. The bottle of soju half-empty in your table is left forgotten as you marvel at the way her lips move in front the mic, producing melodies reminiscent of singing angels. With the way her ethereal beauty glows in the stage, you're starting to believe she is one.

She ends the song on a perfect note; ends of quirking, cheekbones more prominent, eyes twinkling telling you she's quite proud of how the way it ends.

You notice how her tongue darts across her lips and your sight lingers at it for a while, not until she speaks, giving you the chance to hear the pleasant lilt of her voice once again. At that point you're torn which between her speaking or her singing sounds the best. "This next song is dedicated to all the broken ones. You're not alone."

The guitar sits idly on her lap as the man on the piano beside the stage starts playing a few notes of a ballad. The glint in the woman's eyes changes in a second, looking ahead of her, but at the same time, not looking at anything in particular.

"For you I was a flame, love is a losing game..." she starts and your mouth utters a response in awe.

Her forehead creases as she hits the notes and you know it isn't because she's having a hard time singing. She's lost in a world of her own. She's hurting and you can see that on her eyes, in the verge of being a puddle of a mess of tears.

"And though I battle blind, love is a fate resigned... memories mar my mind, love is a fate resigned..."

You wonder the reason why she's hurting like this. It may be the first time you meet her but you want nothing but to make her forget. Somehow, a thought strikes you odd. You want to be the subject of every story she tells in the melody she creates from her lips.

After about five songs, she's suddenly saying goodbye. It's too sudden, you think, because you're drowning in her voice the moment she sings the first verse of the first song. You also realize that she's not getting anywhere until you get her number.

When she's climbing down the stage, spotlight leaving her body bit by bit, you grab your chance and leave the table for two you occupy alone, forgetting about your alcohol. Your table's at the far end so you pace your strides a little faster in order to catch up to her. You do, and when you arrive in front of her, you're completely breathless, or maybe it's just the way she turns around that you find it hard to breathe. She's more beautiful up-close and the stage lights don't do her justice.

"I'm Koo Junhoe," you introduce yourself before she can think of leaving. "Nice voice, by the way."

A smile appears on her lips and you like how it's because of you. If it would've been a little less dark around the bar, you would've noticed the tinge of pink on her cheeks. "Thanks."

"It's the first time I see you around here. Are you coming back?"

"Not really. It's a one-time gig. Depends on the owner if he'd like to have me again."

You purse your lips, wracking your brain to find this conversation worthwhile. Suddenly, you remember Jinhwan grumbling about how bands charge so much to play in his own bar and you think it's a perfect opportunity to bring this up with the beauty in front of you. "I have a friend who owns a bar around Hongdae. He's looking for some singers and I think he'd want you playing in there."

"Well, I'd be delighted to."

"If it's okay, I'll get your number to contact you about it."

You try to hide the smirk forming in your cheeks. It's a genius move and you want to pat your back thinking that kind of genius in a matter of seconds.

You hope she doesn't notice that it's an indirect way of having her number but she's oblivious through it all as she says she's going to be 'back in a sec, will get my phone', and disappears in the backroom. You truly wait for her and five minutes feels like forever. You're starting to wonder if it's just an excuse she made up to get away from you.

The negative thoughts are thrown away when she appears again, clutching a rectangular device on her hand. You've successfully exchanged numbers and you can't hide the smirk on your face as you do so. She's smiling back at you, something that makes you remember of car windows on a rainy day. You don't know how you arrive on that conclusion but you agree how it so describes your first impression of her.

You should've known from the very first day, that the sad eyes hidden beneath her warm smiles are the things that will stay with her for a long time. They say there's more to her than meets the eye, but you never listened. And now you're stuck on the present, stuck on her, stuck with her and her past. You're involved in the crossfire and it's too late before you realize it's a battle, apparently, a battle that you lost before it even began.

Still, a little hurting couldn't hurt. You love the pain. You have a way of attracting the broken ones and you never know why.

She's whimpering and you think you're hurting her, but then you realize it's a different kind of hurt, one that is not physical, but hidden inside her heart.

Your hands leave her sides to prop your elbows on the bed and lift your upper body a little. "Chaeyoung..." you call in concern because you want nothing more than see her hurting like this.

She shakes head, hair swaying along with the movement, and before she engulfs you in one of her kisses, she whispers in your lips, "Don't stop."

So you don't because that's what she wants. So for one more night, you let yourself pretend to be him, because that's the closest you can ever get to her heart.

end.