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milena_1980Title: Sleeping With Ghosts: Slowed Down
Author: Milena Pandora/![[livejournal.com profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
milena_1980
Rating: PG
Pairing: JaeChun
Genre: AU
Warning: Suicidal thoughts
Summary: You hate it so much you could die
A/N: This is a oneshot told from Jaejoong's point of view. It takes place around Chapter 20.
A/N2: Chapter title taken from the song Slowed Down by Visuals
A/N3: It's been two years since I last posted anything SWG-related. Yeah, I know. Writer's block was really killing me. I'm getting back into the story, so I thought I'd write one of the Jajoong POVs I've had planned for a while. Thanks to everyone still reading and supporting this story!! ♥
You hate late night hours. Unlike afternoons and early evenings, they are slow and quiet. Dead. Most of all, they're lonely. You're not alone—you could be in bed right now, next to the one person in the world who actually wants you there (or at least he believes that he does). Instead, you're as far away from him as is physically possible inside his apartment. Why?
That's a perfectly good question, you think, placing your cigarette between your lips and taking a slow drag. Not a second after, you frown and glare at the white cylinder. The damn thing tastes like shit. Nevertheless, you don't throw it away. Just thinking about doing so reminds you of someone you'd rather not think about. You remember him talking about cigarettes and cancer and how he would hate it if his life partner died thanks to such a "filthy" habit. So what if you could get cancer? We all gotta die of something.
Dying… The idea of it has never been foreign to you. You remember being ten years old and thinking it would be better if you didn't exist. Your family never made you feel otherwise. Only one person ever cared, ever asked… Not that you ever told him anything. Save for a few times, that you remember, you never really told him how you felt.
Now, him dying of cancer, or anything else, really, that would not be acceptable. He works too much, worries too much. Every day that goes by, he looks thinner. Most of it is your fault, you know that. Taking care of you takes a toll on him, it always has.
I should just kill myself. The thought comes unbidden. It's always there, that idea, that certainty that you shouldn't be alive. Still, you force yourself, to breathe, to get out of bed, to eat. After all, he does it; he forced himself to move when he thought you were lost to him. He wasn't weak enough to collapse after your suicide attempt and subsequent hospitalization. No, he worked harder. He still does.
"You should take better care of yourself," Junsu will tell him sometimes. The guy is kind of annoying, but at least he cares. Actually, he tells you that, too, a lot, usually whenever he comes over to keep you company. You wonder why he tries so hard. It's not like he likes you. In his mind (and in everyone else's) you're the reason for any and all of Yoochun's problems, depressions, and general misery. You are a horrible villain who comes in and disrupts his life. Yes, you know that's what they think.
(It's what you think, too.)
"Let him choose if he wants to stay with you," Yunho has said many times. He knows how you feel, how angry and miserable and helpless, especially when it comes to Yoochun. So, you're supposed to let him choose if he wants to continue this stupid, dysfunctional relationship. Yes, why not? Let the same man who, as a boy, befriended a crazy guy who followed him home, after the third time it happened. No, your beloved is not a good judge of character, just look at his choice in partners (you refuse to admit that either of them were good enough for him; no, Yoochun deserves so much better).
These days, you don't talk much. It's difficult to keep your thoughts organized when your mind is a jumbled mess.
"It's just the meds," Yunho reminded you a couple of days ago. "You'll start feeling normal again soon."
Normal. Does such a thing really exist? What does normal even feel like? You sigh, leaning against the balcony railing and taking another drag.
Most days, you feel like you're just sitting there while the world goes past you in fast forward. Your motions seem to lag, like you're in a slow motion scene in a movie. You hate it so much you could die. Sometimes you write on the notebook Yoochun bought you. Anything that comes to mind, you write it down. The other day, you recalled a story you had thought about writing once (back when you had been an idiotic and naïve teenager), but the words wouldn't come; you just sat there, the notebook on your lap, the pen in your hand, but nothing came.
Is my brain even there anymore? You wonder, stupidly. Of course it's there, you wouldn't be alive otherwise. However, the part of your psyche that makes you you, that made you interesting and fun (despite the unbearable anxiety and desperation that plagued you all the time), does that still exist? If it doesn't…
Then I want to die. This… This isn't living. You're just… existing.
How long has it been since the last time you had sex? The meds suppress all of you, not just your personality and your emotions (save for the negative ones, go figure), but your body, as well. Lately, you don't want to talk; the thought of being touched makes you want to throw up. Having sex… It makes you feel guilty. He works so hard for you, he's giving you a home and so much more, the least you could do is sleep with him. But, no, whatever is controlling who you are feels disgust at the thought of being intimate with the man you love.
Ridiculous! You will never forget the first time you kissed him, nor the first time he allowed you to touch him intimately. To your younger self, those moments had been nothing short of a victory. Getting him to want you, to love you, you will forever consider that an accomplishment. Part of you knew you were just a convenient escape, at least at the beginning, and you were happy to give him that; not long after, you gave him your body and your heart.
Now, however, what can you give him?
Nothing, you think. Well, he has your heart, or what you think is your heart. After all the things you have done to him, all the ways you have hurt him, can you really say you love him?
"What are you doing?" You look behind you at the slightly slurred question. Yoochun is standing there in his pajamas. His dark hair is mussed and he seems to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. He waits, but you say nothing. Though you want to (why can't you?).
You put out the cigarette and lean slightly over the railing, looking down the length of the building and at the sidewalk. You could do it right now, jump, get it all over with, die. Your pain and suffering would end—his pain and suffering would end eventually, too.
"Hyung," he calls out, sleepily. You sigh, pushing away from the railing.
Maybe another day, you think.
"Come to bed," he says. "It's cold outside." It is, a bit.
You nod and walk inside. He closes the sliding door, then follows you to your shared room. You lie on your side of the bed, pulling up the covers. He gets in, as well, smiling sleepily at you.
"Good night, Hyung." He closes his eyes and is asleep almost immediately.
You watch him, noticing how his face relaxes in sleep. The poor idiot. He's always worrying so much, when he should just leave you alone; he should stop thinking of you as the center of his world and just let you die.
(You think you really would, if he ever did.)
<<Oneshot: Volatile
Author: Milena Pandora/
milena_1980Rating: PG
Pairing: JaeChun
Genre: AU
Warning: Suicidal thoughts
Summary: You hate it so much you could die
A/N: This is a oneshot told from Jaejoong's point of view. It takes place around Chapter 20.
A/N2: Chapter title taken from the song Slowed Down by Visuals
A/N3: It's been two years since I last posted anything SWG-related. Yeah, I know. Writer's block was really killing me. I'm getting back into the story, so I thought I'd write one of the Jajoong POVs I've had planned for a while. Thanks to everyone still reading and supporting this story!! ♥
You hate late night hours. Unlike afternoons and early evenings, they are slow and quiet. Dead. Most of all, they're lonely. You're not alone—you could be in bed right now, next to the one person in the world who actually wants you there (or at least he believes that he does). Instead, you're as far away from him as is physically possible inside his apartment. Why?
That's a perfectly good question, you think, placing your cigarette between your lips and taking a slow drag. Not a second after, you frown and glare at the white cylinder. The damn thing tastes like shit. Nevertheless, you don't throw it away. Just thinking about doing so reminds you of someone you'd rather not think about. You remember him talking about cigarettes and cancer and how he would hate it if his life partner died thanks to such a "filthy" habit. So what if you could get cancer? We all gotta die of something.
Dying… The idea of it has never been foreign to you. You remember being ten years old and thinking it would be better if you didn't exist. Your family never made you feel otherwise. Only one person ever cared, ever asked… Not that you ever told him anything. Save for a few times, that you remember, you never really told him how you felt.
Now, him dying of cancer, or anything else, really, that would not be acceptable. He works too much, worries too much. Every day that goes by, he looks thinner. Most of it is your fault, you know that. Taking care of you takes a toll on him, it always has.
I should just kill myself. The thought comes unbidden. It's always there, that idea, that certainty that you shouldn't be alive. Still, you force yourself, to breathe, to get out of bed, to eat. After all, he does it; he forced himself to move when he thought you were lost to him. He wasn't weak enough to collapse after your suicide attempt and subsequent hospitalization. No, he worked harder. He still does.
"You should take better care of yourself," Junsu will tell him sometimes. The guy is kind of annoying, but at least he cares. Actually, he tells you that, too, a lot, usually whenever he comes over to keep you company. You wonder why he tries so hard. It's not like he likes you. In his mind (and in everyone else's) you're the reason for any and all of Yoochun's problems, depressions, and general misery. You are a horrible villain who comes in and disrupts his life. Yes, you know that's what they think.
(It's what you think, too.)
"Let him choose if he wants to stay with you," Yunho has said many times. He knows how you feel, how angry and miserable and helpless, especially when it comes to Yoochun. So, you're supposed to let him choose if he wants to continue this stupid, dysfunctional relationship. Yes, why not? Let the same man who, as a boy, befriended a crazy guy who followed him home, after the third time it happened. No, your beloved is not a good judge of character, just look at his choice in partners (you refuse to admit that either of them were good enough for him; no, Yoochun deserves so much better).
These days, you don't talk much. It's difficult to keep your thoughts organized when your mind is a jumbled mess.
"It's just the meds," Yunho reminded you a couple of days ago. "You'll start feeling normal again soon."
Normal. Does such a thing really exist? What does normal even feel like? You sigh, leaning against the balcony railing and taking another drag.
Most days, you feel like you're just sitting there while the world goes past you in fast forward. Your motions seem to lag, like you're in a slow motion scene in a movie. You hate it so much you could die. Sometimes you write on the notebook Yoochun bought you. Anything that comes to mind, you write it down. The other day, you recalled a story you had thought about writing once (back when you had been an idiotic and naïve teenager), but the words wouldn't come; you just sat there, the notebook on your lap, the pen in your hand, but nothing came.
Is my brain even there anymore? You wonder, stupidly. Of course it's there, you wouldn't be alive otherwise. However, the part of your psyche that makes you you, that made you interesting and fun (despite the unbearable anxiety and desperation that plagued you all the time), does that still exist? If it doesn't…
Then I want to die. This… This isn't living. You're just… existing.
How long has it been since the last time you had sex? The meds suppress all of you, not just your personality and your emotions (save for the negative ones, go figure), but your body, as well. Lately, you don't want to talk; the thought of being touched makes you want to throw up. Having sex… It makes you feel guilty. He works so hard for you, he's giving you a home and so much more, the least you could do is sleep with him. But, no, whatever is controlling who you are feels disgust at the thought of being intimate with the man you love.
Ridiculous! You will never forget the first time you kissed him, nor the first time he allowed you to touch him intimately. To your younger self, those moments had been nothing short of a victory. Getting him to want you, to love you, you will forever consider that an accomplishment. Part of you knew you were just a convenient escape, at least at the beginning, and you were happy to give him that; not long after, you gave him your body and your heart.
Now, however, what can you give him?
Nothing, you think. Well, he has your heart, or what you think is your heart. After all the things you have done to him, all the ways you have hurt him, can you really say you love him?
"What are you doing?" You look behind you at the slightly slurred question. Yoochun is standing there in his pajamas. His dark hair is mussed and he seems to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. He waits, but you say nothing. Though you want to (why can't you?).
You put out the cigarette and lean slightly over the railing, looking down the length of the building and at the sidewalk. You could do it right now, jump, get it all over with, die. Your pain and suffering would end—his pain and suffering would end eventually, too.
"Hyung," he calls out, sleepily. You sigh, pushing away from the railing.
Maybe another day, you think.
"Come to bed," he says. "It's cold outside." It is, a bit.
You nod and walk inside. He closes the sliding door, then follows you to your shared room. You lie on your side of the bed, pulling up the covers. He gets in, as well, smiling sleepily at you.
"Good night, Hyung." He closes his eyes and is asleep almost immediately.
You watch him, noticing how his face relaxes in sleep. The poor idiot. He's always worrying so much, when he should just leave you alone; he should stop thinking of you as the center of his world and just let you die.
(You think you really would, if he ever did.)
<<Oneshot: Volatile
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no subject
Date: 2016-12-01 04:24 am (UTC)AMFNFJSNSNSJANBDAHAbxjsnsjsnsjakznja *coherency just flew*
it's hard to comment when I'm talking to you at the same. I'll just tell you there.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-01 04:34 am (UTC)I hope that you liked it, though
no subject
Date: 2016-12-01 03:41 pm (UTC)I also love it when you write on Jae's pop coz I'm curious as to what's going on in that warped mind of his.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-01 05:30 pm (UTC)Thank you for your kind words!!!! :D
I've enjoyed exploring Jae's thought processes and feelings. I hope to do it some more, though I really should continue writing the final chapter ;_:
Thank you for still supporting this story!!!
no subject
Date: 2016-12-01 07:06 pm (UTC)HI ♥
and i'm literally sobbing rn. because i love them so much. i missed them. i missed you ♥♥♥
no subject
Date: 2016-12-02 01:54 am (UTC)*hands tissue* Not really sobbing, right? :( That kinda breaks my heart ;_; ♥
no subject
Date: 2016-12-02 04:55 pm (UTC)Despite (or because of?) the dark topic this story is so fascinating, I really like how you're portraying Jaejoong's character and his relationships!
Thank you for the wonderful update!
no subject
Date: 2016-12-03 03:19 am (UTC)I'm planning on writing a bit more from his p.o.v., so I'm glad that you like it.
Thank you for reading!!!!!! :D
no subject
Date: 2016-12-04 01:41 pm (UTC)But two day ago I just did. I’ve found it soon enough. With an update (2 actually, since I’ve not seen the previous one). And oh my god.
I’ve started reading right from de begging (as I did a couple of times before) Somehow… During reading I’ve completely forgotten how Yoochu’s last POV ended… It’s so…. Utterly beautifull how everything on this is portrayed, at the same time it shows off all of its ugliness and pain that it makes it so fucking real it hurts…
… To be even more honest I can’t keep reading those oneshots straight away… I just finished chap 26 and run my eyes through those two works and at the same time I’m so glad and happy you did it, I can read them right now. (Kinda need to let it sink a little?).
So first: thank you SO MUCH for keep this fic going on. I’ts such a wonderful and amazing work!
Seccond: I love it now as much as did reading it from the very begging (I remember printing some chapters so I could ready at class). I’m sorry I’ve never manage to tell you that before.
And third: I’ll definitely read those oneshots, soon enough! Thank you so much for writing them and let us read.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-09 03:58 pm (UTC)Utterly beautifull how everything on this is portrayed, at the same time it shows off all of its ugliness and pain that it makes it so fucking real it hurts
Thank you so much for saying this.
Thank YOU for continuing to read despite the lack of regular updates. I've never even thought about not finishing the story. I'm happy and amazed that some people are still reading.
I hope you read the 3 oneshots and that you enjoy them :D
Thank you!!!! <3
no subject
Date: 2016-12-04 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-09 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-09 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-02-06 03:45 am (UTC)