Best rank : #2 in kimjonghyun
#1 in shawol
Who doesn't like to read fanfictions about their favourite fandoms, idols, bands, characters or TV Shows. It's like an alternate universe where you can see them all in a different light.
Here, I am attempt...
I didn’t know what drove me into trusting him. After that night, I never even let anyone come near me. But, he broke down the walls I had put up around myself and I found myself, enjoying and almost longing for his company.
Today though, I could really feel the shift in the air. It was way past the visiting time and he still hadn’t come, which was very unusual. As I stared out of the dingy window into the evening sky, which did not have its vibrant hues of pink and orange, like the usual summer days, I felt the gloom setting in completely. It felt strangely fitting for today. After wiping the lone tear that escaped my eyes, I shifted towards the centre of the stiff hospital bed and pulled the cover up to my chin. Rolling to the side, I let all the built up emotions let loose and allowed myself to cry.
I hate crying, especially in front of people. My psychologists always asked me to let go of myself and cry, but for me, it’s like giving up again. I have once failed my family and myself. This was the last shred of dignity I had – and I wasn’t ready to give it up for some measly tears. That was all until this moment, when I realized that the person whom I had learned to trust had finally given up on me. It was like a reminder that I was a by-product or a carton box in which things are packed. One might keep it for some time, thinking that it might come of use. However, they’ll eventually throw it away realizing how it’s a waste of space.
I cried myself to sleep thinking about all these depressing thoughts. At night, I had the nightmares again. I haven’t had them for the past three months, since he began visiting me. I saw my mother and father’s limp body lying in the now upside down car. I saw myself drenched in blood and panting heavily. I saw it all as if I was watching it in third person. The violin, my parents gifted me just hours before, for my birthday lay crumpled beside me. All of it happened because of me, because I chose that moment to distract my father. If it weren’t for me, they would have been alive. We would be living happily, like any other normal family. I relived it all, exactly a year after the incident.
I woke up with a start drenched in sweat and sat up disoriented. I looked to the bedside table to find the water jug. As I was about to pour a glass of water, I heard a commotion in the hospital corridor. I became alert and sat up straight anticipating the worst. Then the door to my room swung open and in came a very dishevelled Minho, with a gorgeous bouquet of camellias, and flogged by 3 attendants, who were having a hard time stopping the athletic man. I was first shocked and then relieved at his sight and let myself smile a little.
Forcing the attendants away, he placed the bouquet on my lap and left waving madly at me. Just when the door was about to close, he shouted, “I’ll be downstairs and will come and meet you first thing in the morning. SORRY!”
Before I could ask him to go back home, the door closed blocking him from my view. I looked at the camellias, my favourite flowers, on my lap. I wondered how he managed to find it in summer. As I looked at it closely, I saw a note hidden within it. I gently opened and read it, “You are beautiful beyond words and kind to the core. Your smile has the power to make the cherries bloom in cold winter. Your music has life flowing through it. Miya, you are so gifted. If your parents were to see you now, they’d be so proud. Dear, don’t live your life in regret anymore. From now on, live your lives to make everyone happy. Let your music flow without restraints. Let it reach the heavens. I’ll hold your hands along the way. Saengil chukhaheyo Miya. Minho” I cried, but this time, those were the tears of gratefulness. And when I turned to place the bouquet on the table, I saw a pristine ebony violin perched safely on it.
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I wondered when he placed it. I might not have noticed it during all confusion. Hesitantly I took it up and ran my fingers along the strings. I took the bow made of horsehair. It felt so different yet somehow soothing to hold it after a year. I closed my eyes for a moment and began playing my favourite symphony –resurrection by Mahler. It’s just for my parents and Minho, who taught me that I still deserved to love my parents.
I so badly want to dedicate this story to someone. But this story is a bit too depressing, don't you think? I'll write a fun filled romantic one or something (by now, you might know that I suck at romance stories), and dedicate it to that person. (Chuckling)
[Edit] : there's this account called @/fluffyminho in Twitter. I came across it just an hour before and spent the entire time reading a 2min au. AFSJSGAK You all should head over to Twitter and follow her for some real sweet gay shinee fluff.
