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Jaejoong

Untitled thougths part. 1

- when the sun shines -

Jaejoong is coming home under a starless sky that evening, a dark blanket covers the metropolis above him, but no lights seem willing to appear.
He walks slowly, dragging his feet step by step, almost dropping over everything he runs into. His mind is somewhere else, floating in the fresh night air, lost throught the memories and a past that keeps knocking on his door, claiming its place in a present nobody would have thought of, a present nobody wanted.

He’s fighting, but nobody sees him, nobody notices the desperate look of those who would like to give up in order to get out of the endless sufference, but who cannot because the final goal has to be achieved, at any cost. He raises his eyes to the sky, wondering the reason of that much pain: from the continuos fights to the separation, to their faces further and further away and that name which he isn’t allowed to say, but that even today escaped from his lips.
Because it’s not right anymore, it’s not them anymore.
But Jaejoong holds on, clenches his teeth and goes on, chasing that dream he doesn’t want to give up yet.

They are three, but it feels like something is always missing: sometimes the smiles around him are so sincere that for a moment he forgets, sometimes the grip on his hand is so tight that the thought is suffocated. But they are all illusions, useless attempts to hide a reality that is right in front of them, impossible to be avoided, and when he wakes up at dawn and there isn’t anybody ready to bring him to his fake world yet, reality overpowers him and it hurts, it hurts so damn much.

They are still there, together and alone, marble sculptures and flowered trees trying in vain to touch the sky again; he punches his chest, there where it beats, and reminds himself of that faith he must keep, of how everything will come back as it was, as it is meant to be.

When he finally does come back home, however, his invisible sheld break, late in the night as at dawn, legs fail to support him and the large bed in that fancy room turns into his grave. Jaejoong almost doesn’t manage to breathe, tears start falling down in rivers and slide down his cheeks before wetting the soft pillow on the bed. He gasps and his chest follows his movements: it raises and lowers, confused, without following a steady rhythm. He’s short of breath and the reddish eyes are constantly winked: to lessen the pain, maybe, but they have the opposite effect.
The ethereal skin gets irratated by the continous rubbings and the blankets have become ghosts to fight against: invisible, undefeatable.

Jaejoong suffers in silence, alone, when he knows there is nobody he can lean on, nobody that could help him get away: he suffers when his memories come alive and he cannot tell fantasy from reality anymore.
Jaejoong suffers when he knows he can’t be saved.

He punches himself from the interior, breaking the soul caged inside his body: he rejects himself.
He rejects himself from blood to bones, from virtues to flaws, that smile so beautiful and that spirit so kind.
He rejects his past, his mistakes, the decisions made and the ones that were not; those hands that maybe just had to be stretched a little bit more to reach them.
He rejects the sun that keeps lightening his face, the happy memories he doesn’t feel his anymore, and again the hidden looks, the jokes, the laughts and those melodies that keep on hyphnotizing his ears: they rock him during the night and they keep him company during the day, following him everywhere. And every time he believes he has managed to get rid of them, they come back, always, like a sonor boomerang, unable to go away. They wisper during his crisis and even when the sedatives don’t work, they do, performing a miracle, like water in the desert.

The war in his mind stops and Jaejoong manages to finally calm down: his breath becomes regular and the spasms come to an end, as well as the tears.
He dries his face, still wet, and the world around him stops spinning while pictures get into focus and the visions he created come back to his subconscious, falling asleep for now.
He crounches on the ground and closes his eyes.
He tries to think of a future, any kind of, as long as it allows himself to look forward.
He brings his hand to his chest, there where it beats, and squeezes it, hinting a tremble smile.

Without a doubt, tomorrow will come.

I just want to tell you that tomorrow will always come.

"Without a doubt, tomorrow will come.
I just want to tell you that tomorrow will always come".
Asu wa kuru kara - DBSK