title: spaces between us
word count: ~1 300 words
disclaimer: They aren't mine. ;__;
a series of vignettes.
Can't you see?
The spaces between my fingers
are where yours fit perfectly.
Where they belong.
- Unnamed poem written by my sister.
you and i.
you. and. i. jiyong and seungri. seungri and jiyong. never seungriandjiyong or jiyongandseungri.
can't you see?
there is always going to be a gap between us.
i. g-dragon and seungri.
we're too different.
and even when i am next to you, i feel so acutely this distance between us.
you're always going to be that g-dragon.
the one i aspire to be.
what i would give to have your song-writing abilities. to be able to pull words from the air and string them into pearls of beauty. to have within my hands that level of fame and that fanbase. to have that confidence and that assurance of belonging. to know that you were and are the first choice and always will be.
and meanwhile, i'm here, with the harsh earth beneath my feet, feeling coldness seeping into my skin. here i am, watching you soar in the skies, far beyond my reach. praying that you'll remember me and come back, if only for a while.
ii. seungri and g-dragon.
you come, as and when you fancy.
sometimes it is abrupt, a short one.
a quirk of the lips. "good one, ri," and then you are gone, leaving me grasping at nothingness.
sometimes you are harsh.
your words are like a whip, lashing out at me, inflicting blow after blow of pain and ache and hurt. you poke at my newly-healed scabs until they break and my wound bleeds, fresh pain hurting me again. you pinpoint with cruelty my scars, laugh and jeer at them in my face.
and sometimes you linger.
you lavish me with your attention and care. kisses and hugs, warmth and affection. apologise in every breath, in every touch. love, most of all.
and all the time you turn to leave.
but every single time, i hold. i hold onto these precious moments, the bitter and the sweet mingled together just because all too soon, you will be gone, and i will be left pressing the cold, harsh remnants of this into my palms, just to remember they once existed.
iii. kwon jiyong and lee seunghyun.
you write. really well. i'm envious of your ability, but somehow (thankfully) this bitterness doesn't fester.
i wish i could write as well as you. it's probably inborn and i try my best, but i can never reach you quite as much.
but it's okay.
because when you're writing? that look of peace and quiet contentment that you get even if you're pretending otherwise?
i get that.
so i leave you alone while you write. i trust that you'll churn out another hit-song, and that you'll remember that even if i am the weakest singer, you'll still give me a line or two or more.
i walk away to do other things. annoy gaho. tease seunghyun-hyung. eat bae's overnight cooking. climb onto dae and cling to him like an overgrown koala.
and when i return and you're still there, happiness bubbles out of me.
you may be tired, exhausted even and you may think i'm particularly annoying then, but really, i'm too happy to care because you look happy.
iv. lee seunghyun and kwon jiyong.
you call me often when i'm away.
these days i'm all over the world, everywhere except next to you, and it's taking a toll on us.
after all, we are the terribly clingy sort.
you call me at night, mostly.
i usually pick up just a little after the second ring, in time to hear you chuckle, "eager much?"
i deny it vehemently, but we both know the truth.
under the blanket of the night sky, where ever we may be, we'll talk.
we talk about everything, sometimes nothing. whole conversations about anything and everything.
and when we run out, i listen to the sound of you breathing over the phone, static marring the clarity of your inhalations and exhalations.
but it's enough to make me feel as if you were beside me, even breaths that are little reminders that you're here still.
you're still here, with me still and that is enough.
that's the fans' nickname for us.
you've got to admit it's catchy.
at least it's better than the 'dragon and the panda'.
don't laugh. you may think it's funny, but i certainly don't. after all, you're the aforementioned dragon, which is cool. and i'm a panda. not so cool.
it's not funny.
you know, for all the talk about skinship we're supposed to have, we're so far away from each other on stage.
occasionally our paths meet, and we can't resist.
but really, you're always too far for my liking even when we're on stage.
and you're always near seunghyun-hyung, lending credibility to those gtop rumours. seunghyun-hyung and his kissing fetish doesn't help either, i swear he's made you his ultimate target.
i would strangle top-hyung but all of your gtop fans will come after me and i love my life too much, thank you.
so, you. come a little closer. (crackcrackcrackcrack)
we're still too far apart.
wait, stop laughing. i'm not jealous!
okay, i am.
ugh. get off me - ewww - stop drowning me in your saliva!
it's official. i hate you, hyung.
vi. seungri and jiyong.
you're always going to be the one i love more than myself, but sometimes, i really need my space.
i'm not built for this life the way you are, and really, when i begin to suffocate from all these, i take a step back.
i turn off my cell after sending a message to my manager, plug my earphones into my ears and walk away.
there are times i end up at home back in gwangju, omma with her arms wide open; the familiar waft of honey and home surrounding me. i feast on home and its offerings until i feel so full i can burst and it is that which gives me the courage to return.
sometimes i end up in gangnam with my friends from university and i find a little freedom at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol.
or i hide. i wander around here and there, my feet taking me to places like the han river where i sit and watch people go by or some obscure noraebang where i can sing as badly as i please, or even a midnight stall where i down soju and munch on animal innards.
when the moment passes as it normally will do, i turn my phone back on again.
and out of the tens of messages i receive, yours will always be at the first of the list, simply reading,
come home, ri.
vii. you and i.
after so long, i can tell you that perfection is this: a lie.
no matter how much we're proclaimed to be perfect, the truth is, we aren't.
the same goes for you and i.
we're always a beat off.
little cracks, here and there in that illusion that is perfection.
i love chicken, which you hate.
and we both like to drive, so we both argue over who's going to take the role of driver and passenger.
i'm loud where you are silent. i talk too much where you'd rather say nothing at all.
but then we fight, loudly, i may add, instead of arguing. deafening screaming and shouting, brawls and things being thrown everywhere that surely isn't the definition of perfection.
even in our intimacy, we are imperfect. for one, we prefer to sleep apart than intertwined around one another. and you don't fit into me as perfectly as i wish you did. your head isn't cradled perfectly into the crook of my neck and neither does my body curve around yours as perfectly as it should.
but then we're perfect where it counts.
you're jiyong and i'm seungri and we're us.
and the spaces between my fingers are where yours fit perfectly.
where they belong.
and that's all that matters because that's perfection, right there.
Just a quickie. I wrote this based on a small bit of an unnamed poem my sister wrote aeons ago which that has stuck with me till now.
I'm sort of happy with the beginning, but not so much with the end. Somehow this grew a life of its own and refused to be written the way I wanted it to. :/
But uh, enjoy it anyway? (: