HGFJASKDJAKFJASLDALSFJAL PEOPLE ARE ACTUALLY READING THEM!? PLSSSSS, IT’S SO SHITTY!
Ever since your last encounter with Taehyung of him slightly crying at your countless rejection, you never saw him again. You overheard some female students who likes him that he’s changed out of the classes you both shared. You were quite relief with the thought, however felt bad for what you’ve done.
You really like Taehyung too, but you had to restrain yourself from returning the feelings. You’re a loyal friend who will not break such a friendship because of a guy. You’ve seen many friendships tear apart because of love, and just thinking about how cute both you and Taehyung could be sometimes, makes you sick to the stomach.
Even so, your mind and heart can’t stop thinking about Taehyung and how he’s possibly doing? He was such a class clown. He always made people laugh and had your heart fluttering in silence. Now that he’s gone due to a schedule change, your insides begins to wilt.
Suddenly, your phone begins buzzing at your side and it’s your roommate’s phone number. You answer it quickly only to hear loud noises in the background. She was yelling and you rolled your eyes. Hanging up the phone as you grab your keys, you then exit out of the dorms to find the fraternity party she’s at.
It wasn’t hard catching the sight of the bright lights and trashed front yard of the fraternity party, however it wasn’t easy finding your roommate. You never understood why she would go full blown crazy at parties without having any of her friends take her home. You hate putting up with her, but whatever. Soon as you found her sprawled on the couch with some other ladies, you’re shocked that she isn’t passed out.
“Finally you’re out of that hellhole of a dorm. Have some fun!” She cheerily says when handing you a possibly spiked drink, but you ignore it.
“I’m going home. Don’t call me,” you mutter irritably as you take your phone out to call up your friend, until someone tugs at your wrist.
“Yah!” You shout angrily at who you thought was your roommate, until you gasp out finding a male stranger smirking at you instead.
“You’re kinda cute. I didn’t know that Soyeon hangs out with a cute girl like you,” the man dare says while he licks his lips.
“Back off, dude. I’m not one of your types,” you remark before pushing him off, but he just tugs at your hands again and spins you around to pin you up against the wall.
“You’re feisty, which sums up to being my type,” he growls before tipping your chin up and leaning in, trying to kiss you until you push him off and having him bump into other people, their drinks spilling onto him. “What the hell. This is my new jacket!”
But you were running out of there before you could reply. Just then, you bump into a couple who was nearby the door. To your surprise, it’s Taehyung and your friend who you’ve been telling him of your loyalty about. They were making out and the look on Taehyung’s face didn’t seem too fazed in seeing you.
“Yah, don’t let her leave! I’m going to teach her a lesson!” You hear the creep’s voice waking you up from your thoughts, and you shrieked when he tug at your arm harshly. Your eyes never leaving Taehyung’s when you looked at him with fear creeping up inside your body, his deep voice then speaks.
“Leave her alone,” Taehyung begins while your friend gives you a surprising stare. “She’s not worth your time, Juseo-ssi.”
You watch as Taehyung removes himself from your friend and steps up towards you, eyeing you darkly with maybe hatred, you weren’t sure, but it wasn’t lit with happiness anymore. He grabs at your wrist and snatches you out of the stranger, Junseo, and you merely falling in front of him as he lowers his face to yours, and speaks again.
“You’re never worth anybody’s time, am I right?” And your knees weaken at the dark tone of his voice, along with those dilated pupils which screams of how much he hates you.
its 5 am in the town,
past the grove
over the crest of lemon scented peaks
thoughts no longer with newspaper boy
but a man strumming a off tuned guitar
watch as he captures heavens cords with such elegance,
breath in his mint scented breath,
his chair rocking in tune to the laughter,
that he fondles like his pension check,
but is simply coming back from his springs when he too was younger
much like the boy with a brown cowlick,
whos struggling to finish his newspaper errands,
they both scurry off
to pinelands in the sky
not a conjured heaven
one through innocence
other through guitar playing softly,
ignoring his neighbours bed rocking
even though the wife is on vacation,
its 6:31 am in the town,
the old man brews a cup of tea
that reminds him of his wifes perfume
how it lingered on windowsills long after shed gone, now hes frail
shaking he leans down
crook in spine as beggar stealing change,
picks up the paper reads the stories as if they are poems dripping lager and liquor,
boy should be gone
cowlick should be freshly pressed down
his bags packed
a pearly chestnut dog licking his hands,
but hes past the grove
over the crest of lemon scented peaks
sitting on a stone,
his back to his town and mathematics teachers nails stinging as thorns,
hes reminiscing with the sun
for both him and the guitar man,
thinking of far off days
when the poetry is dried
head holed up with fond thoughts
yet not of pension plan checks,
with a highway buzzing by,
taking in the clouds
how they remind him of floral wall papers
begging and calling to the moon
to carry them off,
You know how everyone has those books, those select few books, that they identify with and that truly mean something to them on a personal level? Those books aren’t always the ones that top the list of the world’s greatest, but that doesn’t matter because they speak to you.
Don’t you think it’s better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?
Sometimes you find one in a romantic, sentimental novel where the characters experience the same events, pain, and joy that you experience in a way you’ve rarely seen described anywhere else.
You’ve been telling me for years that whenever it is you’re coming from, you’re married to me.
Not everything about the characters’ existence is the same as your life, it’s a fictional world, but the emotions they experience are what you feel and so while you read it, you suddenly don’t feel so alone.
Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn’t understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird.
The Doctor has shelf after shelf filled with all kinds of books and he keeps a key to the Tardis in one of them - an obviously read copy of The Time Traveler’s Wife. Out of all of the books, he chose this one.
I’m at a loss because I am in love with a man who is standing before me with no memories of me at all.