Scenario blog run by a slow, nitpicky writer. Hopefully, you'll have a good time looking around here anyway! ヽ(⌒▽⌒) ノ (Upcoming page last updated on June 26th.)
I MISS YOUR POSTS SO much. im waiting patiently but I miss them noona ;-;
I miss writing and my followers and Tumblr too! Thank you for being so patient and sweet with me, sweetheart. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ♥ Great news(-ish): I’m done with my exams and am officially on vacation starting today! Which means… I’m going to have a “comeback” soon! (Still sooner than BIGBANG, hehe.) So don’t worry, updates are coming soon! ( ^▽^)σ I’ve actually started writing a few things already (even when I was supposed to review for my exams); so far I’ve got about 1000 words or so for the next part of Embers.
You’re actually more 4D than anyone perceives you to be.
Taeyang/태양/sun, never stop shining. You make fans smile and feel warm with your presence, just like flowers and the sun. You’ll always be a kid to us, like how you are, at heart (and you’re never afraid to show it).
Hi! Just wondering when the next part of "embers of love" will be posted? I love it!
Hi sweetheart~ Thank you so much for your support! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ♥ To be honest, I don't know when the next part would be posted, since I have drafted out a few ideas for the next part (but not everything), and I'm not on break from school right now. T.T It might take a while, considering that I want to plan this out carefully so that nothing clashes with the part after that, which is supposed to be the final part. To be safe... I'd say July? >_< It's a long time when I say it out loud! But hang on tight, I'll be back~
☆ prompt: cheating, second encounters, revenge, and not giving up — by anon
☆ genre: angst, drama, romance
☆ word count: 3050
one | one and a half | two | three | four
However, there was a particular habit at work that most of your colleagues didn’t share: you had the biggest earner of the company bring you flowers every morning.
Your initial aversion had taken a different form. The forget-me-nots no longer flew to the trashcan after Jiyong walked out—not because you had grown to accept them as an adequate apology, but because you had decided that it was a wasteful destruction of nature. It was symptomatic of your whole outlook: an unnecessary amount of bitterness had waned, leaving only what you deemed to be a right amount of caution and distance. Indifference was the better arm. You didn’t forgive him, but you no longer glowered or cursed him like a sullen teenager. You didn’t forgive him—could you ever, really?—but you tried to detach yourself from his existence, to become unconcerned with him, and his weird courting techniques, and his awkward silences when you accidentally found yourself by his side, alone together in the elevator.
Maybe the meditation counselors were right. Maybe anger was venom that only wore away its bearer. Maybe there was no point to wreck things further just because they couldn’t be salvaged. Maybe it was time to really move on and let go of your rancor.
And that was how you found yourself greeting Jiyong politely when he and you shared the elevator, nodding when he gave suggestions for tracks’ arrangements, declining courteously instead of ignoring him with a glower when he offered to drive you home, reminding him civilly every now and then not to bring you flowers anymore (to no avail) because it served no purpose, and making small talks with BIGBANG’s leader when the situation required. Basically, you did all that one had to do in a standard acquaintanceship, all while keeping a certain reserve—just enough not to give him what he wanted.
But just maybe, you might have let your guard down more than you knew.
Just maybe, you had grown susceptible to the blue tinge of Jiyong’s forget-me-nots.
☆
That Friday night marked the first YG party that you had attended since starting work at the company. The President’s official announcement of a rookie group’ future debut in three months, in addition to the strain on employees due to a lack of festivities, had finally given cause for a long-awaited celebration. The chosen venue for the gathering was a chic club in Gangnam District, the type of club you would only go to when you had enough bills to burn for warmth, or a celebrity boyfriend (which you had once had, but even then, you had never pleaded him to bring you to luxurious spots.)
The place was damn worth the dime, you realized however, upon entering the bar. Blood could only simmer to the roaring music, a kind of audial perfection coming from an expensive sound system. Sensuous colors pulsated to the beat of the dance floor; the spotlights twirling round and round. Even the price tags of the liquor seemed to be coated with gold, as they gleamed and drew you in. You bought a lemony beer, which, according to the bartender, was a brand of exotic, fancy beverage imported from some Caribbean island.
Navigating through the mass of dancers, you swayed lightly, fingers gripping the neck of your beer, feeling the beat and taking it easy. However, the shake of the hips of a zealous dancer sent you stumbling a few steps forwards, thumping softly against the figure of a tall male standing by the side of the room. You looked up and he looked down; a timid smile graced his lips in recognition.
“Hi,” Seunghyun greeted, raising his glass of wine ever so slightly.
“Long time no see, Seunghyun-sshi,” you replied and responded by raising your own bottle. Seunghyun wasn’t around your path at YG much; he had always been the discreet, silent, stealthy type, so it wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t seen him at all during the past two months. It felt strange, perhaps a little awkward to address him with the suffix –sshi now, given that you used to call him oppa once upon a time, when you used to be Jiyong’s other half. A few seconds of clumsy silence followed your greetings.
“Oh, hello there, _____!” Daesung chimed in, beaming. “Glad to see you here!”
“You too, Daesung-sshi.” You smiled, feeling sincerity in the gesture. It was hard not to feel genuinely glad around Daesung. “Why aren’t you dancing?”
“I should ask you the same question!” He laughed. “And what’s with the –sshi address? I thought I was your oppa! Don’t be strangers.”
The awkwardness in the air seemed to clear with Daesung’s affability. Soon enough, you found yourself laughing and chatting comfortably with Seunghyun and Daesung like the good old times, addressing them familiarly like you used to. Few minutes seemed to have passed before Seunghyun began to proclaim to you that wine was better than beer, and you wondered if his drunken bingu side was starting to act up.
“Hi there,” a slivery voice joined in, and you felt your heart leap, alarmed. Turning, you found Jiyong standing besides you, smiling at the exchange. His hair was messy, the dyed colors changing hues under the beams of the club. The studs on his blazers winked at you in the flickering lights. His eyes met yours and he smiled as a smoky blue light flashed, its glint twinkling in his dark orbs. Under the lusters, there was an intensity that unnerved you. The split second finally passed and Jiyong shifted his gaze to Seunghyun and Daesung, before speaking up, “Nobody’s dancing here? Boring!”
“You’re not exactly flaunting your moves right now either, Jiyong,” Seunghyun retorted.
“Yeah! Why don’t you go dance with ______ to show us an example, hyung?” Daesung piped up.
“I, uh,” you cut in, alarmed, “no thanks. I was actually going to find… uhm, Teddy, now. I just realized I was holding his… wallet. Sorry, gotta go. See you around, boys.”
With a wave, you made a swift escape, but not swift enough to miss the unreadable look Jiyong directed at you. “See you,” he mouthed, before you blended into the crowd and disappeared from his sight.
Treading some distance in between the crush of bodies, you finally wove out near the restroom sign. Heaving a sigh, you mentally chided yourself over the panicky reaction: Holding his wallet, seriously? I could have made up a better story…
While Jiyong’s company wasn’t usually leisurely, it had always been bearable. In the past few weeks, you were courteous with him, and breaking the ice was never difficult. However, tonight was different; you were on edge and had no idea why. You only knew that when his gaze bore into yours and his eyes twinkled, you felt uncomfortable, as if restlessness worked its way through your system and set you on fire. When Daesung suggested dancing with Jiyong, you felt threatened, like a status quo was about to be reversed and that you couldn’t ever let it happen.
“What’s with the tense look, _____?” A dancer whom you had befriended in your two months of work passed by, looking concerned.
“It’s nothing,” you replied nonchalantly, instantly restoring the placid façade.
“You should go dance,” he added. “Might help with whatever issue you’re having.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You nodded. “You’re right.”
Following the rhythm of his hips, you snaked your way into the mob of people. One clap, two taps—you followed the beat of the songs, disregarding the smell of sweat and the confusion of the light beams.
Whatever to get Kwon Jiyong off your mind.
☆
An hour or two had passed. You were out of breath and your legs cramped painfully. Drained from the twirls and whirls, you dispersed from the crush on the dance floor, heading to the bar for a drink to cool down. The force with which you let yourself fall on the stool caused the seat to spin. One arm hanging onto the bar counter, you rotated back, your vision going around the whole room in the process.
Some distance away, on the edge of the crowd, a mane of blue hair. And a woman.
You squinted. It was Jiyong indeed, a smile plastered on his face, a glass of liquor in one hand. The woman besides him, whom you couldn’t recognize, had a pretty figure clothed in a stylish dress and graced with allure. The distance between them was questionable. She was swaying as she spoke to him, her hand touching his forearm, not pressing closer, but not retracting either. You couldn’t take your eyes off the curve of his eyelids as they blinked down at her, momentarily reminded of the hazed looks he used to give you a long, long time ago, in moments of tenderness and desire. When she laughed, you could almost imagine her dulcet timbre; you saw him chuckle in response. She tiptoed and pressed her lips against his cheek, two dark silhouettes coalescing. You felt something rising up in your throat—a sort of burning you weren’t entitled to feel.
You were jealous.
He was single. It wasn’t inherently romantic. Cheeks, not lips. He didn’t hold her. Just a friend, maybe. You didn’t own him. Just a friend. Not romantic. You even rejected him. He was a cheater. Why do you care? “Why do I care?”
What the hell was running through your mind?
“______?” You turned around, eyes wide. It was Teddy. “How come Seunghyun told me you said you had my wallet?”
“I…” you stuttered. “Long story. Never mind.”
“All right, weirdo.” He laughed, but stopped when he saw your expression. “Are you okay? You look hassled.”
“I do? Must be the excessive dancing.”
“Must be. I saw you out there. You’re a wild child.” He laughed harder. “A drink to cool down?”
“Yeah.” You nodded. “A drink to cool down.”
☆
Teddy left you after one beer for some girl, but you decided take more drinks to cool down on your own. Another bottle. Then Lydia joined you, complaining about your apparent gloominess, and called for additional bottles to “kick the sunshine out of you”. You conceded, not feeling the energy to flee to the dance floor, or to resist. Inebriation led to fun, embarrassing singing; she was right; you didn’t mope anymore. You had another drink. And next thing you knew, Lydia was not next to you at the bar anymore, and you were drunkenly staggering by the door of the club, too intoxicated to distinguish the small set of steps by the exit.
“Whoa there!”
An arm held you back as you almost stumbled headfirst on the ground. You knew that perfume, even in the midst of your own stench of alcohol.
“Leeet me gooo,” you slurred.
“You’re drunk,” Jiyong stated.
“I call cab!”
“It’s dangerous.”
You resisted, uttering other arguments he could barely distinguish through the stringed words. Your cause was lost when Youngbae joined the scene, apparently about to head home with Jiyong, and sided with his best friend.
“Let us drive you home,” Youngbae coaxed you. “One of us can drive your car back to your place.”
“She didn’t go by car,” Jiyong said.
You looked at him, wondering how he knew. He replied with an unreadable look, yet again, then slung one arm around your waist and put your arm around his neck, before hauling your weight to the car. Your attempts to walk only seemed to hamper your own movement. Once he had tucked you in, you tried to fasten the seatbelt by yourself but your hands didn’t reach for the right place and you heard a chuckle as you groped at his sides. A “click”; belt fastened.
“You drive?” Jiyong asked his friend. You heard an agreement. Youngbae asked you for your address; you didn’t feel the strength in you anymore to deny him the information.
The ride was strange. You saw all sorts of colors. Streetlights, probably. There was a continuous buzz, murmurs you couldn’t distinguish, and laughs from masculine voices. Too inebriated to comprehend anything, the sights and sounds crossed your mind like a blurry, flashback on a scratched CD. Boyfriend and his best friend laughing in the car. Good times. Rides on the weekend, in the middle of the night. Furtive hangouts when the world was asleep. His pecks from the passenger seat at the red lights. Coming back home in arms that held you.
Far gone. Illusions. You couldn’t miss someone who betrayed. How could you miss someone who betrayed you?
Besides, that woman at the club—who was she? Was he professing love and guilt to your face while he trifled with who knows how many other women? Dancers? Models? Random girls?
Who were you kidding? Candor was never his thing.
“______? Are you in pain? You’re whimpering,” Jiyong said, concern lacing his tone, his hand touching your arm. You realized the car had grown quite silent; you were unconsciously sniffling.
“I… I’m okay.”
You weren’t going to break down or throw a fit. Not here, in a car with the two men. Not drunk, when your system was a mess. Not now, after you had put up the cold act for so long.
“We’re here,” Youngbae finally said. The car stopped in front of the gates. “Uh, ______, any code to open these gates?”
“Key. In bag.”
Jiyong reached out for your bag, fumbled to get a card, handed it to Youngbae who wiped it in the scanner on the wall. The gates opened, then closed as the car rolled in. At least this way no fangirl could catch Big Bang in some scandal, here, at this time of the night.
Someone unbuckled you, and warm hands pulled you up again. “You wait in the car? I’ll bring her up.” Youngbae nodded at the request.
The apartment’s elevator was silent, apart from your noisy breaths on Jiyong’s neck. He’s probably disgusted with my stench, you thought. No more forget-me-nots after this. No more gallantries. No more nothing. Worse, you couldn’t understand why you were feeling so mad in the first place. Wasn’t it your wish to have him off your back forever, after all?
“Room eighteen,” you mumbled to him when the elevator dinged.
When the door opened, you nearly collapsed on the couch, exhausted. Jiyong pulled you up and gave you a glass of water. You chugged it down, letting it rid your mouth of the bad taste.
“You rarely drink this much before, ______,” he chided softly. “And you shouldn’t. It’s dangerous.”
“Speak for yourself.” You groaned. You noticed he was looking around your house, scanning the unfamiliar territory. You wondered how his apartment looked like nowadays, without your things—with other women’s panties lying around, probably.The water you had swallowed had done nothing to neutralize the sour taste in your heart.
“I don’t drink that much lately,” he replied, finally. “Been living a monk’s life. Working hard in the stead of partying and alcohol.”
“But lots of women.” You snickered. “You’re a ladies’ man, aren’t you, G-Dragon?”
You felt him freeze. When your head turned, his eyes were wide and his brows had deep, deep creases between them.
“No,” he said.
Silence.
“I care about you.” He sighed. “Does my daily flower delivery somehow make that unclear?”
“No.”
You paused.
“But kisses on the cheek do.”
“You’re getting mad about Ji-eun?” He sounded baffled, incredulous. “That was just a goodbye, from a person who’s just a friend. You’ve heard of her; she used to work with me for my performances. She’s dating one of the guys in Nuthing, anyway.” He paused, studying you intensely. You lowered your eyes, not wanting to face him. “Besides, you and I are both single, aren’t we? Why do you suddenly care so much?”
Feeling bile stirring in you, you didn’t reply. You heaved, hands hurrying to your mouth. Immediately, he stood up, propelling you along and dragging you to the bathroom.
You felt yourself nearly falling headfirst into the toilet bowl if he didn’t hold you back, one hand gently pulling your hair out of the way. You vomited; all you felt was shame. Chest rising and falling noisily, you slumped on the floor, dazed, tipsy, out of your mind.
“I don’t even know why you’re doing this.” Your words came out quickly, small, like the whines of a child reduced to tears. “You don’t need to care for me, Jiyong, because you don’t really want to get back, do you? Not if you’re flirting up with two thousands other girls at the bar. You don’t need me in your collection. It has always been this way, hasn’t it?”
“_______...”
He wiped a wet towel over your face, then lifted you up, carrying you in his arms. You didn’t resist anymore, feeling your energy about to die out completely. When your butt hit a soft material, you crouched over, but he held you up.
“Drink this,” he murmured, handing you another glass of water. “I shouldn’t have riled you up. I’m sorry.”
You mumbled undistinguished sounds as you sipped on the water. Then, he let you fall over on the bed, took off your shoes, and pulled a sheet over you.
“Good night, ______. You’re drunk really badly. Get better in the morning.”
Through blurry eyes, you distinguished his silhouette, slender and graceful and tired, fading from sight, as he closed the door to your room.
“Hello? Youngbae? You go back home; I need to watch over…”
The muffled sounds from the other side of the door faded, as you fell asleep.
The capsize of the Sewol ferry was a calamitous event.
I send my thoughts out to all the victims, the survivors, the families of the individuals on the ferry, and the pained nation as a whole. Investigations and search would hopefully bring us some more information on the accident. In the meanwhile, I hope the concerned people are being given appropriate care and counseling.
To whom it's concerned, please stay strong. You have been so brave.
Can you ship me with an member of Bigbang? I am Korean 5 foot 8 with bright red coloured hair. I am quite outgoing and loud... and I have a thing with black stuff. thankss love your blogggg
Awww, thanks lots for the compliment and the message, sweetheart! ♥ Unfortunately, I don't really do shipping scenarios. ><" I know K-pop fanfic blogs on Tumblr often do, but I've never really known how to do it satisfyingly—figuring out who in Big Bang to ship with a person who I only know through a brief description, and explaining my choice. I'm really sorry; I hope you're not too disappointed. T.T Looking from the Big Bang scenarios tag, I often see responses to shipping questions by this blog, so maybe you can check it out and send the admin a message!
Hii! I love your Jiyong scenario so much! Please continue! Fighting! :)
Hi sweetie anon~ Thank you so much! It never ceases to put me in a good mood to receive these messages. And don't worry, there's no way I'm giving up on that scenario; I really like the storyline too. ^o^ I'm just a little (very) busy lately now that I'm not on break anymore, but I'll get on to writing as soon as I can. Fighting! \o/
☆ prompt: cheating, second encounters, revenge, and not giving up — by anon
☆ genre: angst, drama, romance
☆ word count: 2002
one | one and a half | two | three
Time passed quickly as you worked on the track’s arrangement. Uncapping your pen, you were about to jot down some ideas for the lyrics, when you realized that the gray, sleepy brume of early morning had already lifted, giving way to the day’s sunlight over Seoul. It was best if you didn’t show up late to work, so you packed your things and prepared to head outside.
The moment your hand touched your phone, it vibrated. A number—one that wasn’t saved in your address book—appeared alongside a new text message. You pursed your lips. Even though you had deleted it a long time ago, you had never managed to forget this sequence of numbers. The message was from Jiyong.
“I miss you. Good morning.”
You ruthlessly tapped on the screen.
“Are you sure you want to delete this message?”
You tapped again.
“Message deleted.”
☆
You replayed the demo. The sound in YG’s studio was of a vastly superior quality to the one your headphones at home produced, even if they were a hefty investment that took its toll on your pay for a month. Immersed in the music, you uncapped your pen to jot down lyrics, mouthing words to the tune. It was delightful to be in workspace like this, working on what you love, letting the notes fly freely. Perhaps running into Jiyong every now and then would just be a small, negligible snag to your five months with YG.
As if the heavens had detected your thought and decided to flaunt their impeccable sense of irony, the track ended, and you spun around on your chair only to realize that Jiyong had been sitting on the couch right behind you.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, on the tone of an inquisitor, eyes narrowing. “How long have you been here?”
“I’ve just come in since a while,” he replied, almost shyly, like a boy reprimanded by his mother. “I… I wanted to give you a gift.”
He fumbled for something in his bag, before pulling out a small bouquet of blue flowers. “Forget-me-nots.”
Sunglasses-clad, beanie-covered, black-attired G-Dragon was extending his hand full of metallic rings to hand you a bouquet of forget-me-nots. Once upon a time, you would find such a display of affection endearing, especially when it appeared so tender, contrasted with his cool look. Now, you just found it derisive.
You also found it surprising that his arm wasn’t trembling under the intensity of your glare.
“We talked about this yesterday,” you said coldly. “There is nothing you can do, Jiyong-sshi. Please don’t buy me gifts.”
“No, no,” he replied, calmly, arm still unwavering. “Please take it as a gift on behalf of YG to welcome you to the company.”
Not wanting to inflate Jiyong’s stupid antic into a fight, especially that you were currently present in this room as a mere hired employee, you took the bouquet, but not without glowering. Luckily, he was sufficiently contented by to stand up, say goodbye, and leave the room. The moment the door closed, you were on your feet to toss the flowers in the trashcan and go back to work, trying to dump the image of the forget-me-nots out of your head. The attempt was successful for a while, before…
“Rad tune, girl!” A voice from behind your back pulled you out of your bubble of concentration. It was Lydia Paek, one of the songwriters you had been introduced to at lunch a few days ago, standing alongside Teddy.
“I think the bridge is a little bit empty compared to the rest right now,” Teddy added. “Maybe more synthesizers?”
“Good suggestion.” You nodded. “What about the chorus? Is it overdone?”
“Hey, why are there blue flowers in the bin?” Lydia lamented. “Those are pretty! _____, any idea where those come from?”
“No.” You spun around on your chair, pretending to fix the synthesizers.
☆
At lunch, noting that Jiyong was sitting at the songwriters’ table with Teddy, you pivoted and headed towards where Lydia was seated instead, with some other familiar faces. You had hardly turned in the right direction, however, before your eyes crossed another pair, and Seungri beckoned with his hands for you to come over.
“_____! Sit here! We haven’t talked in a while!” He looked absolutely enthusiastic; you were absolutely not. You liked Seungri—quite a lot, actually—but given the current state of your relationship with his bandmate, being friendly with him would only be counterproductive. Hence, you protested, gesturing towards Lydia and shaking your head.
Seungri, as adamant as always, stood up to personally escort you to his table. “Nonsense!” he replied to your protests. “You have to sit with me! We haven’t talked in forever!” Not wanting to cause a scene in a cafeteria, especially that a few pairs of eyes had already been turning to see what the BIGBANG’s maknae was fussing about, you had no choice but to comply.
“This is _____, everyone!” The maknae introduced you to the other occupants of his lunchtable—dancers and stylists whom you knew by sight. “She’s an awesome songwriter. Even Jiyong envies her, sometimes.”
You flinched inwardly. You just had to hear about Jiyong everywhere, didn’t you? Outwardly, however, you smiled politely to the chuckles and nods of the people facing you. “That’s not really true. Not that it’s anything new from Seungri to blow things up...”
“Hey! Now, that’s mean!”
You snickered.
Surprisingly, Seungri refrained from mentioning Jiyong again for the rest of the conversation, for which you were more than glad. He told you about the choreography he was planning with the dancers and invited you to pitch in, before the conversation took a more casual turn and you ended up giving tips to a stylist on how to take care of her cat, while Seungri complained about the fact that the only pet he had ever had was a goldfish.
The hour went by in good humor as the table gradually cleared. Yet Seungri stayed where he was. For some reason, you found yourself not leaving either—until only you and maknae remained seated.
“Don’t you have somewhere to go, Seungri?”
“Shouldn’t I ask you the same question?”
“I’m leaving when you are.”
He snickered. “You’re much less hard-working than he says you are.” You froze for a second, not missing the emphasis. “Hyung really misses you, by the way.”
“That’s nice and all,” your tone was sardonic, “but I don’t find it in me to go back to him after what’s happened between us.”
“I think he’s being sincere this time.”
“Oh, I thought he was sincere too, until it happened.”
“He regrets it.”
“So do I. But it’s too late.”
“You seem really adamant.” Seungri pointed his fork at you. “Do you have a new boyfriend or something?”
“No!” You frowned. “I don’t need another man to confirm my refusal to go back to Jiyong!”
“No dates at all?”
“No!”
“Even small flirty chit-chats?”
You shook your head. “No!”
“Do you repulse men? Is there anyone interested in you at all currently?”
The creases between your brows deepened. “Did he set you up to ask me all of this?”
“Haha!” Seungri laughed. “Well…”
“Goddamnit, just tell him to fuck off. It was nice talking to you, Seungri, but I’m going back to work.”
You stood up and took your tray. As you turned around, from a few tables away, a pair of eyes that had been turned in your direction glanced abruptly aside. You ignored them. He had probably heard the whole exchange.
☆
You hated Jiyong’s guts, but you had to give it to him: he was persistent.
It had been a while since the first day you received the forget-me-nots and told Jiyong indirectly to “fuck off”. For a week after the incident, he still had the nerve to show up where you worked daily to hand you bouquets, with the excuse that it was “a welcome from YG for the entire first week”. It sounded unbelievable, but he insisted it was the truth when you protested. When the week passed, he still came to give you flowers. By then, you didn’t bother to fight back anymore and just took the flowers curtly.
That didn’t mean you didn’t manage to hurt him in other ways. One day, while walking out, Jiyong halted by the bin; the cleaning worker had forgotten to take out the trash the previous night. A patch of blue was poking from the canister.
“Do you dislike forget-me-nots?”
You couldn’t gauge the tone of his voice. It sounded controlled, like he was stifling the emotions behind.
“No. I just…” You found yourself fumbling for words, unsure how to act. His reaction was making you slightly apprehensive.
“I’m sorry you hate me that much.”
When he walked out, he slammed the door. But the following day, and every day afterwards, he still came back with a bouquet of forget-me-nots, acting like nothing had happened. The episode planted guilt in the back of your mind, but you persisted with your cold shoulder. Distributing flowers daily for two weeks was not yet an adequate compensation for a breach of trust, a stab in the back.
You wondered when he would eventually give up in face of the obstacles you set up. It wasn’t as if he didn’t attract women: plenty of females would fall into the trap that was his smile, would listen to his stupid sweet nothings, would agree to hold and caress and comfort him, would agree to make him a little less lonely at night. However, weeks passed, and he still didn’t desist from giving flowers. Small ministrations even compounded the situation: he texted you in the mornings to wish you a good day, offered to drive you home when you stayed late at work, let you take the dessert when you unluckily queued up right behind him and the servings were running out, handed out compliments and suggestions for the tracks you were working on. Of course, you never replied to his texts and declined all of his assistance (except for the musical counseling, but even then, you pretended not to hear what he had said and only discreetly edited afterwards as he suggested.)
Your defense, to his dismay, was not coming down so easily. Strangely enough, a bad dream that had ceased to haunt you began to resurface every now and then, leaving you with the taste of bile rising to your mouth and betrayal replaying anew in your guts when you woke up. It wasn’t easy, then, to believe the charming, tactful, and steadfast persona that Jiyong was trying so hard to build up. You wouldn’t let him win the battle just yet.
I hope those who celebrate it received lots of lucky money and had a great time with your family. ^-^ I've been pretty busy, but around breaks like this one I always find a little time to make one update or two~
What I've just published:
Embers: A bonus part on the 6 months span after the break-up from Jiyong's perspective although it's completely unnecessary to understand the plot, but HEY WHY NOT.
Future updates:
Embers, part 3, which is written down already and just awaiting some revisions so that it doesn't clash with part 4.
I'm writing the Don't Judge Me request for Taeyang right now as well, but this is the third time I erased what I had written and started over again because I didn't like the writing. A little bit stuck, but I'll get over it eventually... You might just have to wait until my next break. :P
How To Love is on a little hiatus (sorry BEAST fans :( ) because I wanted to finish the Jiyong story first and the Taeyang request as well. That, and I haven't had enough times to check on BEAST's performances lately!
That's all for now! Thank you for supporting me, as always.♥ Feel free to request (although like usually, they remain only prompts that I might or might not put down to words) or to message me to tell me whatever! :D
☆ prompt: cheating, second encounters, revenge, and not giving up — by anon
☆ genre: angst, drama, romance
☆ word count: 2023
one | one and half (bonus): from jiyong's eyes
“The number you have reached is not in service. Please check the number, and dia—”
Jiyong turned off his phone. One day had passed and fifty-six calls had been made, all to no avail. He was sitting on a naked mattress, and he was praying that as miserable as it looked, he wouldn’t have to sleep alone on it tonight. The blankets and covers had been thrown outside, because they stunk from the other woman and he couldn’t stand the faintest trace of her perfume. It was expensive but nauseating, above all because it reminded him how nauseating he was.
What the fuck was he thinking? Yes, his excuse was loneliness. Yes, he missed having a skin to touch, to hold, to love—your skin. But her skin wasn’t yours, so now he had to pay the price. What difference did it make that he pictured you and moaned your name when he was with her? He did think that it would escape you, that it was a quick recess, a dirty little break you were never going to hear of, didn’t he? Because it was just to fix his loneliness for you. Once you were back, he wasn’t going to fool around no more. It was just one time. One error. Because he longed for you.
Who the hell was he kidding? He fucked up. Big time.
He didn’t despair yet, however, because your clothes were still strewn over his in the closet. You were going to come back tonight, or tomorrow, and he was going to kiss you and apologize and beg for your forgiveness. He was going to make it up for you, as soon as you came back. He only had to wait for you to come back. He was growing impatient, but he knew you were coming back.
☆
Two day had passed, and when he came back from a photoshoot with BIGBANG, your clothes were no longer strewn over his and there was only one toothbrush on the sink and his bottles of perfume didn’t stand next to yours. Your favorite mug was not in the dishwasher and your favorite book not on the shelf and half of the CD rack was empty. A key lied over the counter and he cried.
☆
“The number you have called is not available. Please try—”
Jiyong turned off his phone. Three days had passed and a hundred and forty-five calls had been made, all to no avail. He was growing more desperate by the second. He turned on his phone again, and dialed your mother. It took five calls for her to pick up. When she did, she sounded vexed, but he didn’t blame her for it.
“My daughter wants to cut off all contacts with you. She requests that I don’t tell you her new information.”
“Please, umma, I—”
“Please don’t call me that way, Jiyong. I’m sorry. I love ______ very much, and I don’t want her to be hurt.”
There was a beep on the line, and he couldn’t call her again. He threw his phone against the wall and it broke. He wished he could do the same to himself.
☆
“I hate myself.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Jiyong.”
Youngbae’s voice was soothing and Jiyong felt infinitesimally better. But he still felt bad enough to repeat, “I hate myself.”
Youngbae sighed. “Everything will eventually get better, Jiyong. You just have to wait for it.”
Jiyong wasn’t sure he could wait some more. Thirty day had passed, and he was going crazy.
☆
After fifty days had passed, he realized that Youngbae was right, that he was learning to cope. He didn’t starve himself from two out of three meals a day as a form of punishment anymore. He didn’t gawk with zombie eyes whenever a girl with a haircut similar to yours appeared in the streets. His inspiration had grown exponentially, although there were too many sad songs in stock for the next album (Teddy was heartlessly evacuating three quarters of them.)
☆
Eighty days had passed, and he functioned mostly like a normal Jiyong. His performances were invariably acclaimed; he made wonderful jokes around the fans; he was working hard for the next comeback; he was even doing a considerable amount of fanservice.
The only exterior signs of longing was the fact that he checked your website daily to see what new project you were on, and lurked around the buildings of the entertainment companies you were signed to, in hope of ever running into you. He had to stop, though, when a fan noticed and ran after him, and YG screamed at him for it.
The other sign was that he was still counting the stupid number of days since you left.
☆
A hundred days had passed, and the people closest to him reminded him that he needed to move on. He agreed, even if his heart didn’t want to. Seungri gave him an encouraging smile and set him up with one of his many connections. “You’ll like her,” the maknae said. “I hope she’ll like me,” Jiyong replied, because in that moment, he felt that all he ever was is a cheater and no one liked cheaters.
Seungri was thoughtful, he mused. The girl really was his type. She was clever, and stylish, and his jokes bounced off on her just like they should. But he didn’t bring her home, and chose to be honest by the end of the night: “I don’t think I want a second date.” She was understanding, and gave him a pat on the back. “I had fun. Call me if you ever change your mind.”
He wondered if he ever could when he entered his empty apartment later that night. The air was so vacant, so full of just him and his aura and his glitz and glamor and all his mistakes. He missed how you used to bring coziness to this place, to bring ease to his world, with your down-to-earthness and your simple humor and just you. Now he only had superficial glamor in his life, and cold sheets when he went to bed.
☆
One hundred and eighty days had passed. He didn’t believe what Youngbae said he had seen; Youngbae must have been joking; Youngbae’s sense of humor had really degraded.
But then he was walking in the corridor when he saw the most beautiful creature he knew, his queen, his everything. This was a second chance from heaven. He couldn’t screw it up. He won’t screw it up.
Thank you so much to everyone who liked and/or followed me in the past year, to all your lovely support and encouragements! I really enjoyed opening this scenario blog; in fact, it was the most fun I had writing in a while. (Obviously... writing + bigbang = 2 of my favorite things in the world!)
I hope you guys had fun/will have fun today (depending on your time zone!) and that you'll have a great, fulfilled year coming up! Work hard, play hard! Stan BIGBANG hard! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ✧✧✧
I wanted to get the Taeyang "Don't Judge Me" one-shot out along with the next part of the Jiyong fic (it was supposed to be Yoseob next but I was so inspired for Jiyong...) but I turned out to be busier than I had expected. :( No thanks to professors who thought it'd be nice to hold a mock test of the year-end exam in a week... And then I also wanted to write New Year one-shots for each of the BB members, but time also didn't allow that. T___T Oh well, maybe they'll come along during the year! You guys wouldn't mind as long as there's good romance, right? :D
Again, happy new year, and hopefully the next time I'll greet you guys with a scenario update!
is their gonna be part 3 of kwon jiyong "of some love" i really love the tension here so exciting ^-^ please have a part 3 please ^-^
Thank you so much! I’m super happy you felt the tension because it means that I’m doing my job right. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ And there’s definitely a part 3! (I’m not the sadistic type to cut off a story right in the middle of unsolved conflict like that!) There are probably around five parts in total, although I’m not entirely sure about the number because I haven’t planned the progress of the plotline in details. But yeah, there are a few more chapters coming up, so hang on! ♥
Omg authornim, ur jiyong fic is sooooo goood kyaah!! If u can, can u please make a part three??
D'awww, thank you so much for the enthusiastic message! (^-^ )♥ And don't worry, the story is far from over; there's definitely a part three coming up! It might just take a while because I'm a perfectionist slowpoke. :p
