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@gajigwa
#the heartaches ━━━━ a highly selective & private writing blog for alexander dmitrievich choi, lead singer of the alternative rock band the heartaches. original character. low activity. please read rules before following or interacting.
가지과 / GAJIGWA (kr. nightshade) navigation. verses ; visual ; multi
Blue Heaven on Earth ━━━━ is the third studio album by Alex Summers, better known to his fair share of devotees as Alexander Choi, the lead singer of The Heartaches. Recorded in between Electric Lady Studios in New York and the band's very own Heartbreak Recordings in Brooklyn, it had been kept largely under wrap until its release on October 17th, 2025. The album release had been preceded by posters popping up all around New York, Los Angeles, Seoul, and London, proclaiming heaven is when i am with you, followed by the release of the album's lead single, Save My Very Best For You.
Largely regarded as one of the most successful songwriters of his genre, Alexander Choi has recently made headlines with his marriage to singer-songwriter and front woman of The Six, Daisy Jones. Rumored for years to have been entangled with each other and stoking the gossip columns by performing each other's songs in concert, recording un-credited harmonies and backing vocals for the other, and dedicating various albums to another, the pair finally tied the knot in upstate New York after a more than tumultuous courtship.
Summers' new album is a sprawling genre-blend of alternative rock, indie rock, folk, soft rock and pop-rock that dive deep into his history as a frontman, his relationship, and engage in a multi-faceted discourse with our current day and age. While the sound is familiar to most, there are certain forays into new spheres, such as the piano-heavy deep-cut The Rest I Can Do Without, a rousing ballad that stirs into greater heights in its last minute, accompanied by the New York City Philharmonic. I've Been Yours but I Have Yet To Be Mine (Winter's Over) is another gem hidden in the depth of the nineteen song tracklist, a haunting holiday tune that will find a seat at the table when the days grow darker, colder, and lonelier. The highlight, though, is the soft-rock, guitar heavy titular track, Blue Heaven on Earth, where Summers quotes Mood Indigo, and croons, if my heart is not with you / i get that mood indigo / and i could just lay down and die / and trust me / i tried and tried and tried.
✧˖°. a tune for daisy jones ♪ @blotgydja
she has been nothing short of a mirage, something alex never thought he could allow himself to have, not in the face of all the scrutiny, the vultures vying for a chunk of him, the people demanding his attention, his intentions, his honesty. any part of his soul, really, as if the music isn't enough, the songs he has poured himself into, the hours he has willed himself up on stage, saying here i am, this is all yours for the taking. and yet, nothing ever seems enough. to want anything, desire alone seems preposterous in their industry, like he is committing some great sin by admitting that he is human, too. made of all the same parts as anyone else. he just so happened to stumble into a rehearsal room and impress three other guys, enough for them to keep his ass around. more luck than conscious decision-making.
he is lucky, of course. alexander would never deny that, after all he gets to do this for a living, and no matter the naysayers and anyone else who tries to dissect him with knives or words, or less, he would never change it for the world. how many people can say they are living their dream? he is sure that there a thousands of people who envy them, who wanna be him, who wanna be with her.
daisy, for all her careless glory and carefully curated aloofness, appears almost uncharacteristically serious where she is sitting across from him, at his bedside. he doesn't really know where they are right now - chicago, maybe? or was that last week and they are already in london? - and he is too lazy to check; it is already night outside, late enough for them to stumble into the hotel through the backdoor, a doorman sworn to secrecy the only other person they met along the way, and now, here, it seems to be as if they are the only people in the world. he reaches his hand out to touch her back, and it is a luxury to do it. to not have to dream it, or imagine it, but to actually feel her beneath the palm of his hand. to touch her.
he wants, he thinks, the rest of time and every corner of the earth with her.
"i didn't think you would come with me, " he confesses, honestly. " i actually thought you might think i'm too uncool. "
THE HEARTACHES' SOUND SCAPES TOUR (2025)
setlist: intro endless grievances nightshade robbers about you in the mood for...
(acoustic set) crazy moonshine higher
interlude live from...
seoul calling i'm in love with you (still) at your very best exit wounds your house andy, you're a star you
cover (depending) the river by daisy jones & the six (played 8 times) cowboy like me by daisy jones (alex solo, played once) inconsequential questions by alex summers a change of heart by alex summers the bolter by daisy jones (alex solo, played twice)
my god the man encore: night soda the heartaches sex
AMERICAN LEG (12 DATES), EUROPEAN LEG (10 DATES), ASIAN LEG (6 DATES, 3 NIGHTS IN SEOUL), ONE FINAL NIGHT IN NEW YORK CITY AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
S01E07 | The Trauma Code: Heroes on Call (2025) dir. Lee Do-yoon
the conductor of heartaches.
35 ( from jaehwan <3 )
35. a kiss against a wall
this is all new ground — and there is so much of it, unconquered land that yohan has dreamed of, to span the width of his palm over and see whatever he could cover — and it is addicting, intoxicating. endorphins straight to his head, making him feel drunk, the sort of adrenaline he has only grown to know on the piste, that high he has been chasing all his life long. no, this might be better: everything he has ever wanted beneath his fingers, twisting the fabric of jaehwan's fancy dress-shirt tightly in his grasp, undoubtedly leaving creases he would later be scolded for. but yohan does not care much about later, or the concept of time to begin with. all he cares about is here and now, this present moment at his fingertips, the seconds that seem to stretch like taffy, that make him feel like he could be endless and everlasting. it is so much more than he could have ever hoped for; the very scenario he would have stumbled into in one of his many daydreams, leaving him so aimless and bereft in the aftermath. a lot of this used to be wishful thinking, as if you could will the impossible into existence.
now, it is all his.
all sensations that he is categorizing, one after the other. the wall in his back, solid and grounding, the heat of another body along his front, one long line from their thighs to their chests — he is slightly taller than his coach, and it used to bother him, how he would tower over everyone around them, but now he likes it, how all that weight is keeping him pinned to the wall and, still, jaehwan has to lean into him — and the slight scratch of stubble against his skin. it is not too foreign ( he has made out with other guys before, fell into foreign beds, during international competitions, desperation bleeding into hasty fumbling, an overwhelming need eclipsing any decorum ) the kind of rough that sends a shiver down his spine. if he tilts his head just so, it's almost perfect, the taste of mint chasing coffee, chasing the cigarettes jaehwan smokes whenever he thinks yohan cannot see him or isn't paying attention.
despite himself, yohan smiles against jaehwan's mouth, into the kiss, with the eagerness of the mid-twenty-something he is. the youth and vigor he usually carries into competition slotting into space between them, his hands in jaehwan's short hair, nails against the back of his skull. " you have no idea, " he says, a murmur that is swallowed much like any other noise between them, jaehwan busy to shut him up. no wonder, it is usually so rare to get yohan's mouth to stop working, spilling a million syllables a minute it seems. " you have no idea how long i've wanted this, " he sighs, all lovelorn, all lovesick, all over himself, all over this man that he has chased like a mirage. a thing that would never come true, just a figment of his imagination. but here it is now, and yohan winds his arms around him to keep him right where he is, and sinks his teeth into jaehwan's bottom lip — a devotion that bleeds and stings and speaks of a desperation he should be ashamed of but could never quite be. he held out this long; he ought to celebrate this victory for a little longer, then.
⋆ . · * · ↳ kiss roulette / closed.
🎲 for kath!
22. a french kiss/kiss with tongue
in all fairness — and he does deserve some of that, as he deserves grace — he did not plan this. none of it was planned, despite jaehwan's careful reminder to not fall in love with the reporter. alexander, always so quick to give his heart away to those asking for it, even more so to those who would barely need it, know not what to do with it. this thing, it has grown too big for him to grasp in his hands without it spilling through the cracks of his fingers, and it has grown a size that has become hard to ignore in the past weeks, months — this past year that has flayed him open, a clean cut down the middle, and eviscerated his insides, dragged his heart right out of the pit in his chest. it is here now, in between their warm bodies, hot and heavy and wanting. impossible to be caught in the middle of all his desire with nowhere left to hide.
he would laugh about it, if he could. they laugh a lot together, katherine is one of the few people, besides vito and matt, that could get alexander to finally let go of some of that weight on his chest. she makes him feel like a human, less like a god and more or less like a man, too, something that is so simple at its core, and yet it has rendered him useless. speechless, too. for the most part.
" we shouldn't be doing this, " he murmurs, his voice fraying apart at the seams, the syllables running together, spoken against the inviting red of her mouth. " we really shouldn't be doing this, " he repeats, followed by an inhale and an exhale, and a prayer to some higher entity he does not believe in — all the gods have forsaken him a long time ago, but he is nothing if not relentless in his pursuit of moral guidance. spoken like an affirmation, more for himself than for her.
kissing her is like fusing a part of himself to her, like a key finding the exact lock it has been yearning for — it reaches into the depths of him and plugs his ribs out of his chest, one by one, leaving him boneless, nothing to him but this. a raw nerve, the taste of her on his tongue as he pries her mouth open, licking into her with renewed vigor. wet and warm and perfect. his hand buries in her unruly hair, pulling her impossibly closer despite the fact that there is nowhere else to go. it is only this, only them, infinitely.
alexander touches the tips of his fingers to her cheek, grasping her face. his teeth drag across her bottom lip, his nose brushing her skin. she smells divine too, of course, and momentarily he is aware of the fact that he must reek of the cigarettes he cannot seem to quit and the mints he had just before she arrived in his arms. all of it habits he can't quite kick. he has always been weak-willed in the face of his desires, especially if they taste and feel as good as this, as she does.
⋆ . · * · ↳ kiss roulette / accepting
kiss roulette
inspired by the infamous "i want the k" meme by deactivated tumblr user tastcful. send 🎲 to generate a kiss! potential suggestive/nsf.w themes may appear
A kiss on the cheek
A kiss on the nose
A kiss on the forehead
A kiss to the top of the head
A firm kiss
A gentle peck
A romantic kiss
A platonic kiss
A kiss to the eyelid
A kiss along the jawline
A kiss to the neck
A kiss along the collar bone
A kiss on the chest
A kiss to the stomach
A kiss along the hips
A kiss in the rain
An upside-down "Spider-Man" kiss
A kiss while laughing
A kiss underwater
A rough kiss
WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)
A french kiss/kiss with tongue
A kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances
A sleepy kiss
A kiss that's an accident
A kiss while one or both parties are crying
A kiss in greeting
A kiss in parting
A kiss to the back of the hand
A kiss to the palm of the hand
A kiss to the inner thigh
A kiss while someone watches
A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking
A kiss after a bite
A kiss against a wall
A kiss to the shoulder
A kiss to the back of the neck
A kiss while one party is carried
A tentative kiss
An impulsive kiss
A kiss out of spite
A clumsy kiss
A bloody kiss
❝ YOU SHOULDN'T TRUST WHAT YOU READ IN THE TABLOIDS, ALEX, I THOUGHT YOU KNEW THAT. ❞ she bites back, the truth repackaged and reformed into a weapon, not meant to enlighten but to damage and wound him as he had wounded her ; but that had been their way, to continue in this cycle of harm and comfort, of hatred and love, disgust and desire, over and over and over again. ❝ I never slept with billy dunne ─ though I wanted to, badly. ❞
in the years since their last meeting, she’d grown ( or at least so she hoped, even if it didn’t seem quite that way now, with her childish rebuttals and refusals ) and so had he. it was time to show it, to allow the growth to take center stage rather than her still damaged ego and eternally bruised heart. ❝ yes, it would. everything with us is bad, ❞ comes the singer’s response at last, tense shoulders sagging with exhaustion and barbed wires retreating. ❝ we make chaos seem tidy. but perhaps a part of me missed you too. probably always will. ❞ she admits, as if a commander conceding in battle, a sole soldier waving a white flag on the battlefield. spinning in her chair, she faces both herself and alex in the mirror, a sight she once believed she’d never see again, and picks up a cotton pad to continue wiping her makeup off. he already has her raw and vulnerable, there is no use in clinging to the final remnants of her mask.
outside the now shut door of her dressing room, she can hear the footsteps and laughter of her band and crew passing by, high on the adrenaline of yet another stellar show. pride swells in her heart. she wonders if alex noticed warren on stage with her, what he would think about him sticking around. she doesn’t ask. outside, the world moves on. in here, she’s frozen in time with him. whether or not she wants to leave, she’s not sure. selfish as she is, and perhaps even stupid as she is, daisy still wants him. part of her likely always will, his heart and mind intertwined with hers in such a way untangling is a feat unlikely to be accomplished. despite the pain of it — THE PAIN OF ALWAYS WANTING AND ALWAYS HATING HIM — part of her is glad of it, glad she’ll never be fully rid of him.
❝ me neither. it must have been ages ago, I think your hair was a little different. I'll admit, you look good. ❞ makeup sufficiently removed, she stands from her chair and crosses the room, picking up stray pieces of clothing along the way. with her back to him she pulls off her flowy stage dress, unbothered whether he sees or not. ( or perhaps rather pretending to be so uncaring, so untouched by his presence, that she doesn’t even think twice about undressing before him. ) ❝ but I listened to your last record. it wasn't all bad. ❞ she says, a true compliment hidden in amongst the slight animosity and teasing, and when she turns back to face him it is redressed in slightly more pedestrian clothing. ❝ seems you're still able to crank out a little art even without me as your muse. ❞
" oh, you wanted to sleep with lots of people, i'm just not naive enough to assume i was the only who got lucky, " he says with a shrug, crossing his arms in front of his chest. always up and on the defense, even now, after all those years that should have taught him differently. but that is what he is and who they are, and that is how he has grown up around her. from a foolish kid with dreams too big to comprehend to a man within reach of his forties — how scary to think that at a certain point in time forty seemed unreachable to him. now, alexander is thirty-eight and will most likely be, at some other point in time, forty-eight. or, god forbid, fifty. his mother would thank him, for sure, for making it that far without sending her into an early grave.
but, he is digressing.
he sighs heavily, trying to look at anything that isn't her; the sofa pushed to the wall to his left, her make-up brushes littered on the little vanity in front of her, that mirror that holds their reflections as if they could go back in time and rewrite the past. he remembers how easy it could be between them, hours willed away in each other's arms, or exploring whatever foreign city they would find themselves in, by chance. remembers the singular instance of her in his home country, iridescent against the backdrop of the beaches of busan, the shore of the eastern sea. the pictures of her he took on that now seemingly infinitely out-of-reach day are stuck between the pages of the book he read on that trip, and at the bottom of some drawer. a place he doesn't dare to revisit, but he can admit — it was easier. " if anything, i am flattered, " he admits, a little less of his ego and a little more of the fleshy part beneath, his bloody heart. " that you do miss me, i mean. sometimes, i think you might have forgotten. "
about me, about us. it is less of an accusation than an observation. she carries pieces of other lives with her now, like that drummer of hers, the one he knows for a fact plays for billy dunne ( who she definitely did not sleep with. yeah. alexander can believe that ) but that she has always gotten along with. and who is alexander to let his jealousy take hold of him? he slept with other people, too. had relationships outside the scope of her. just like the songs he has written that have no trace of her whatsoever.
the awareness does not help, that they are, once again, fundamentally alike in too many ways. he watches her undress in front of him, nothing he hasn't seen yet, nothing he ever learned to un-miss. in his mind's eye, his hands are wandering up the ladders of her rib cage, his fingers brushing the back of her neck and the swell of her cheeks. he misses her, sure, but he wants her, too. he figures he always will. like god's most ridiculous punishment, everyone in on the joke but alexander himself.
" my hair has always looked good, it's just — shorter now, " says alexander, nonsensical. she always catches him on his back foot, one way or another. he tilts his head as she turns to look at him, the heat inside of him subsiding momentarily. this is just them, and nothing and no one else. nothing to be scared of, certainly, no matter how fast the familiar trepidation sets in. " but thank you, you do, too. but i know that you know that. " a wry smile, his lips parting slightly on an exhale. " listen, daisy, i do not want to fight with you. this is not what i came for. i really — i just wanted to see you, and i am glad that you are doing well. it's been so long. "
it would be so easy to ask her to come home with him, but the thing is — alex does not know anymore if she would say yes. he would, he knows that, would fall on his knees for her in a heartbeat. how scary, after all, that so little has changed within him.
❛ it'd be such a cliche to say that we're destined for each other. ❜ (for his favorite fencing coach <3)
the house is quiet, a space where hauntings take place instead of something to welcome anybody in. jaehwan usually doesn't stay here anymore, only has the keys to air it out every few weeks and see if the cleaner's been there bi-weekly, something he didn't even plan to assure himself of but his ex-wife asked him to do. what for? he used to ask, incredulous and missing the point like he did so often at the end, until she reminded him that the lease was still in his name - that once upon a time he did one thing right, somehow. the only reason he's taken yohan here is because it has more than one bedroom, a working kitchen even, and a bathroom that's more than a glorified shower stall. it was also closer to the filming site for his ad shoot, something jaehwan only noticed when it was past midnight and he had to kill time while yohan ( well, alexander ) was busy making eyes at five different view finders in a bright.-lit room. it was easier to come here than to drive back across the city, especially when yohan had more advertising deals to fulfill for another magazine tomorrow.
this late there is little to do besides going to sleep, but yohan's too wired to do so and jaehwan himself is not used to being here anymore - not used to see someone across from him in the kitchen, standing at the clean sink, filling a glass with water through the water dispenser, looking back at him. yohan's not said much all day, busy holding up his fencing gear and his medals at the camera, but there's been something in his eyes, something jaehwan has seen growing there for the past few months, years, something with too much life to it for jaehwan to so simply extinguish the flame there. it is better than seeing him crashed out from the rush, jaehwan tells himself, better than seeing him moping about or staring into the middle distance while mumbling in three different languages. this is better. yohan looks more alive even at this hour than he did during the last fig tournament he cleared with a place on the podium and a medal.
jaehwan doesn't blink when yohan speaks, gets out what's been in his head for weeks, and doesn't even let his face move as he hears him voice aloud a fantasy ( it must be on ) across a space where jaehwan used to see his wife cook breakfast with him, too often only for him, and where he hasn't seen anyone stand in months, in years. " it'd be quite the cliché, " jaehwan agrees, circling the kitchen island until he's by the sink with yohan, standing next to him. yohan smells of hair product and perfume, nothing like the usual mixture of sweat and cotton clinging to him that jaehwan's so used to. tomorrow, he'd smell nothing life himself again, will probably smell the same nothingness like this place does. the thought sits squarely in jaehwan, makes his jaw clench. he leans his weight against the cupboards and stares at the low light of the room, from the side of the counter he's never been on as often as he should have been, and slowly rests his head against yohan's shoulder. for once he tries not to kill off any conversation yohan tries to start, indulges him instead out of curiosity. " what made you say that? is it this place? "
the day has been long, so long that the hours began to blur at some point, smudging together like the white of the blinding lights yohan had been staring at for far longer than he could consciously trace back, leaving bright dots in his vision. when he blinks or squeezes his eyes shut, he can still see it, the after image of a flash, much like the memory of longing that hes become his daily companion. just like the man across from him, the source of all his despair and the deep well that has taken residence in the center of yohan's chest. a sensation so unfamiliar to him, but not anymore, not for quite a while. there has been a steady drip of desire filling it up over weeks and months and years spent in each other's company, and now all he has to show for it is an acute fear of drowning in it. like that could be possible, he thinks sourly, but then again, people have died of less.
oh, he must be going crazy again, that wicked wanting making him say and do things he would never be proud of. showing just how young & foolish he is, after all, or maybe it is this place, this graveyard of a relationship long laid to rest, and now here he is, attending the wake late. a rude interrupter. maybe he shouldn't even be here in the first place, but jaehwan had made the decision for him, and perhaps that was cruel and unfair, but yohan — well, he bleeds easily and is familiar with it, too. what is it, if not just another nick in time? he would survive it, just like before, with a brave face and then some.
but then, the words, as sentimental and daft as they are, steal past his sharp teeth unprovoked and stealthy in the quiet of the night, and he is laid bare yet again.
jaehwan's face, mired in eternally saturnine fashion, is much closer when yohan finally looks up, following the heat emitting a body moving towards his own, right by his side. he must have missed that, the movement, but he has the impending stillness to his right — until the weight on his shoulder is more than just gravity pressing him into the floorboards, and all his breath runs out of him. it is worse than being in the middle of a bout, when the sweat blinds him and the adrenaline propels him forward. this is the unknown he has always been afraid of, for wanting it seemed like indulging into something not-quite-forbidden but completely impossible nonetheless. his mouth is too dry, so he clears his throat, staying perfectly still where he is, ignoring his fingers growing damp around the glass on the counter, and his elbow brushing jaehwan's sweater. ' illicit ' is the word he has been looking for, he thinks, and banishes the thought immediately. " no, " he allows, and exhales carefully. " i think i am just tired. forget i said anything, my — i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. " just as he always does by voicing what he wants to be more than just a figment of his imagination.
JU JI HOON / 주지훈 Marie Claire Korea, Dec. 2024
gentleman ━━━━ is the debut studio album by american singer-songwriter alex summers (better known as alexander choi of the heartaches), released on june 3rd, 2014. critically acclaimed, nme noted the album "a wonderfully cohesive and diverse work that fits together incredibly well. a promising debut of one of the best rock singers in the business."
gajigwa ; a highly selective & private writing blog for alexander dmitrievich choi, lead singer of the alternative rock band the heartaches. original character. crossover verses. by jun, 21+
Q: HOW DOES ALEX NEED TO BE TOUCHED? A: CAUTIOUSLY.
your teeth are bared, as they have been, your jaw aching for so long as growls slip free. you always have to defend yourself. you lash out in fear. you need someone who does not shrink back... a hand falling slowly to your shoulder, however briefly, in a reminder that you do not have to lunge. there is no danger here, now.
tagged by: @blotgydja (♡) tagging: @svyatoiy @sheikage
the lashing out by mentioning vito was an act of childishness, a habit left over from her unruly and unguarded youth ─ in its own way a vice she had not yet been able to kick. few who knew her would ever agree to the likelihood of daisy jones ever fully growing up, daisy herself least of all.
she basked in the effect she had on him. ❛❛ not at all. ❜❜ she replied with a slow shake of her head, a half-dead smile curling her red-tinted lips. it hurt her to allow the person who had taken up her side of the bed even the most minuscule of attention, but seeing how it frustrated alex too had a balming effect ( even if soon enough it would cease and the burning sensation would return. ) they might have parted ways in a whirlwind of tears, guitar strings, screams, & papers riddled with the lyrics of unfinished love songs, but at least she still had some semblance of a claim on the man who inspired so much of her older poetry. she was not yet just a figure in the rearview mirror; perhaps instead she was a looming presence in his blind zone, only the fringes of her cast into view with the gust of a momentary wind. forever a stain on his future as well as his past.
part of her wondered if perhaps vito’s name should have remained unspoken. once what spilled from her lips in the presence of the heartbreakers’ frontman inspired melodies, now it would only scorn others and offer momentary healing to self-inflicted wounds. her lyrical prowess had disappeared, replaced by a juvenile urge to lash out & embarrass ─ and now that too had emptied out, like a quill whose ink had dried halfway through the parchment. when had her charm twisted into bitterness? the moment he passed the entrance gates perhaps. ( the only question was to where: the arena, or to the heart she thought was well-guarded, whose walls should have been insurmountable to him now? )
but daisy had never been very good at letting things go, not even when she knew it was for the best. ❛❛ I’m just wondering why you’re here, if he’s at home waiting for you. ❜❜ though vito had been the elephant in the room, forever lingering in the corner but never mentioned by either party ( the same could have been said of billy dunne, who had been like a ghost waiting in the doorway ) throughout their tumultuous relationship, it was alex himself who was the bruise she could never seem to heal, forever tender and aching to the touch no matter how many times she would torment herself with a childishly defiant prod at the blueish skin. perhaps this was her new vice: gone were the never-ending supply of pills in her pockets, ripping open old wounds and bleeding the well dry had taken its place.
❛❛ so why did you come? as far as I’m aware you’re not on any invite lists. what, did you miss me? ❜❜
carefully, he takes a few steps into the room, as if he is treading on land-mine-laced ground, like there is bloodshed just waiting around the corner and beneath his feet. often, with her, it had felt that way—like he could never find the right words, or the right thing to do, instead forever chasing a thrill that would lead to nothing but hurt. another open wound, a violent outburst of passion no one would want to be around for, least of all for whatever happened after. the tabloids loved it, though, of course, scrambling for just a glimpse of them. they made headlines, for sure, but alexander has never been quite fond of the press and to this day, how they have hounded daisy leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. perhaps, it would have served them well to be less absorbed in their own chaos, or choose a career and life outside of the spotlight, but that is not what they were made for.
alexander, much like daisy, has his own vices, too many of them, and she might be at the top of that list. that hurricane of her, the one he always ends up in the center of. vito is nothing like her—the first person to show alexander any kind of affection, and for that reason alone, he would always have a spot in his heart, something he should have perhaps have outgrown by now but maintains like a garden instead, untouched by her hailstorms and downpours, somewhere he could return to after they would — inevitably — run their course again, the heat fizzled out into sparks, words, melodies & nothing else. just a memory.
but she is so vivid here, and alexander knows as well as she does that there are certain things you will never be able to outrun. he stops in the middle of the room, phenomenally displaced, not daring to venture any further / he respects her space & the alexander of the past would balk at that, because he was an idiot.
" as if you weren't stumbling from his bed into mine, " he says blithely, before he remembers himself and sighs, shoulders dropping. if you can fight dirty, so can i. " i'm sorry, that was uncalled for. i—maybe i missed you? would that be such a bad thing? "
would it be? he has thought about it on the way here, and then again when he was stuck like glue to his seat. maybe, he missed watching her do what she does best, another life gaining traction whenever she steps on a stage, like she swallowed the lights and the sounds, and returned it to her eager audience tenfold. that's what it feels like, what it always has been like. for him, at least.
" i haven't seen you perform in ages, and i can't remember the last time you saw one of our—or my shows, even. which is fine, i don't expect you to be there. " truth be told, he occasionally feared what she would do if she ran into vito again. but he never really feared running into her, sometimes he thought it would be for the better. to just watch it dawn on her face, that familiar recognition, that hairpin-trigger split of a second before her body remembered all the scars he left on her. he tries for a smile. " you've gotten better. i really missed out. "
the days go by in a pattern jaehwan knows too well, always the same kind of routine from the moment his alarm goes off to when his head hits the pillow and he actually gets some sleep. just because there are the rare days where he sleeps somewhere else, whenever there are tournaments and they have to travel or he knows staying over at yohan's is smarter than just picking him up on the way to the gym or meet him there, doesn't change the effort of his established ways. most days feels the same in a good way, where the changing of the seasons is marked by the beginning or end of yohan's tournament schedule or if the jogging routine jaehwan himself keeps up most mornings starts in the bristling cold or the only hour of the day before it is swelteringly hot. this is a life jaehwan used to crave, the one he dreamed about when all he knew were tournaments he had to compete in himself and his nights were spent working through every little error in his posture or how to be sharper and quicker with his sabre than his opponent, or how not to feel like throwing up his lunch during the first hours of afternoon training - a universal experience, despite what yohan would love to claim with his theatrics. this is the life he is holding onto now, everything he has hardly won and hardly fought for ( or rather, worked for with all his might ) and that is why he covets his routines with the same might, with all he has, and prefers not to have them disturbed that much these days.
" is there anything interesting about an athlete besides winning? for laymen, you know, " jaehwan volleys back, because he has seen the other side of winning and he has spent a good few years working his way up to the peak only to then trek it back down on the other side. there is something nihilistic in yohan's outlook, something age will smoothen out of him like sandpaper against sea glass, but jaehwan likes to throw a morsel of wisdom into their conversations here and there for him to already see glimpses of that process. having eaten his own food methodically and quitely, listening to yohan's web of thoughts, jaehwan knows there is not much he can do to change his athlete's outlook on his own success and legacy, not on the short term anyway, but the interim isn't the worst place to be in. it's not always the highest highs or the lowest depths, though there is little in trying to make yohan see this or make him aware of it when he's not in the habit of wanting to hear it. he has to arrive at that conclusion himself, which would probably take another decade or so, something like that. " even for kids who are really just starting to love the sport they're doing. everyone looks up to the greats, that's why they are what they are. but if you would show up at their training sessions twice a week they'd adore you just for being there. i am not telling you that you have to be there, your training schedule is what it is for good reason, but it's not rocket science. they're kids. high-schoolers or college students at most. " he then points out, giving yohan another one of his long looks over the rim of his glasses before lowering his gaze to polish off the rest of his bowl and then making sure that yohan is doing the same with his own food - as content as jaehwan is to watch him, there are also practical reasons to the entire thing he can't shake off. watching yohan follow the orders and terms set ages ago by jaehwan, his nutritionist, and the pt satisfies the part in him that is all-coach-all-the-time, even if he'd sometimes like to be more personable. that is the pieces of the sport he can't shake either, ever.
having finished his own dinner and gotten up to rinse out his bowl and chopsticks, jaehwan listens to yohan's next words before he even can turn his head over his shoulder to look at the younger in amused disbelief. something else that doesn't take a genius to figure out is yohan's little crush on him, something jaehwan has noticed ages ago. at first he thought it was mere hero worship, not because he is that arrogant but because he does know how starstruck people can be ( he wouldn't have explained what he just explained to yohan if he didn't ) and now he has watched it linger on his fencer's face like the constant afterimage of attraction. maybe this should entice jaehwan, please him in simple ways to remind him of his own desirability, but he hasn't really had time for any of that since his divorce, and since managing yohan and the gym. not to mention that he'd never just use the person he works closest with, works for, just for a cheap thrill to satiate the curiosity he can always read in yohan's gaze. " i will take the couch. or the floor - did your mother take the futon with her the last time she was here? " he decides, now turning around to lean against the kitchen island again like he did before, the time he spent sitting down to eat not even being close to the ten minute mark. " you did have to run some crazy drills. it's your bed and you need the rest tonight. i might stay up to prepare some stuff for tomorrow, i wouldn't want to keep you up anyway. " to apologize for being the more mature one between the two of them, jaehwan kneels in front of the kitchen table, elbows on the tabletop, and leans forward to look up the fencer. " put a pin in what you want for now, yohan. we'd need to have a clear conversation about this before i'd do anything like that. i am still your coach and you are still dead tired. "
" we look good, " yohan replies immediately, always at the ready ; antagonizing his coach is his second past-time, only surpassed by the hours he has dwindled away in his fantasies. yohan has no illusions, he only daydreams and he knows it is a terrible habit, something he should have curbed sometime around seventeen or eighteen, when he spend too much time thinking about the other boys on his school team, wondering silently, quietly, if anyone else felt that way ( many of them do, few of them ever act on it, they know better than to commit career suicide ) and rarely, if ever, making a move on any of those idle dreams. violent delights and their ends, yohan knows perhaps all about them, just not by virtue of consciously seeking them out. some things just happen to him, like this ill-fated infatuation he cannot seem to shake off. but jaehwan is right, obviously — the kids do love him, no matter the small or big successes, they come running up to him to celebrate with him, honor his mere attendance at the gym with starry eyes and a million questions at the ready that yohan is usually too tired to answer, but will answer anyway, as long as jaehwan tells him to. he is not an asshole contrary to popular belief, just a tired, aching young man who has achieved something others have yet to dream of. people have build altars for less, he assumes. " well, if you want me to hang out with them, i can do that, y'know? and not just—the reffing. schedule me an hour at the gym with the others, i will take a look at the high school team. not sure i can offer anything of value, " he shrugs, " but i can offer them my face. i reckon that's good enough, right? " yohan grins, fully aware that his coach might disagree, hoping he won't—hoping that he will be in on the jest, because yohan likes jaehwan to lose some of that weight off his shoulders that he seems to be carrying around everywhere he goes. maybe he has spent too much time thinking about his coach, but so be it. he's made his bed, he will lie in it even on his own.
still, the sting of the rejection is old and familiar. this isn't the first time he's asked for it and it won't be the last either, but there is something about this evening, how exhausted he is and how vulnerable, that works to dim the lights somewhat more than usually. he moves the food around his bowl, shoving it back and forth until he cannot stand to look at it anymore, pushing the bowl away from him. looking around the room, anywhere but at jaehwan, the shadow that is perpetually stuck in the corners of his eyes like some sick joke. a part of him wishes he could get over himself, that he would have found someone else, but the few that are interested live either too far away, are part of another country and delegation entirely, or yohan has long forgotten about them. the guys on the national team—he doesn't want to ruin that. doesn't know why he would ruin things with his coach instead—maybe he is more reckless off the piste than he initially assumed, or maybe he is just a daydreaming fool. both might be correct, in his case. yohan has never claimed to be any good at making decisions pertaining his personal life. " no, " he mutters, looking at the top of his thighs, exhaling quietly. he is such an idiot for thinking this might be the night things change ; why did he ever even get his hopes up? " she left it here, in the closet where it always is. i will — go to sleep, yeah? sorry, you are right, this was — stupid of me. "
the shame burns his neck, scalding his skin hot and pink, and now he cannot seem to get away fast enough, stumbling over himself — watching jaehwan drop to his knees in front of him might be worse than any dream he's ever had, certainly worse than the things he has imagined in the darkest, furthest corners of his mind that he doesn't let anyone else ever see, not even his mandatory therapist. they are both stressed with competition prep, paris is only a few months away and while yohan might be true to form, they both know they cannot leave anything up for chance. when yohan does not think about the things he desires, he thinks about what he can accomplish — he might be a wreck in terms of interpersonal relationships but he is certainly a talented athlete. the best fencer in the world. it weighs as heavy as a sword, that responsibility, but it also means that he is destined for more gold. he can do that, at least, he thinks, without fucking it up. before he leaves, he stacks his bowl and throws the chopsticks in there, in some resemblance of adult behavior—ignoring what is in the room between them, the air thick with his trepidation, enough to cut through, to suffocate him and make him trip over his feet in his haste to retreat. only once he is in his room does he breathe again, leaning his forehead against the closed door, muttering to himself, " choi yohan, you are the dumbest idiot who has ever lived. "
nightshade ━━━━ is the second studio album by american rock band the heartaches, released on january 17, 2009. regarding the album, frontman alexander choi noted that he ' wanted to create an album that was as much me as it was us, and everything important that made us. '
gajigwa ; a highly selective & private writing blog for alexander dmitrievich choi, lead singer of the alternative rock band the heartaches. original character. crossover verses. by jun, 21+
