Wow I'm not even sure what this thing is. I've been wanting to finish a oneshot for a very long time now. I've been mostly writing angst, and this is actually my first, complete oneshot.
It's not proofread, or edited, because I'm exhausted right now and I'm just posting it. This is a fanfiction of sorts (Jessica from SNSD and Kris from EXO) but not really. It's a weird mix between non-fic and fic. Honestly, I don't know what this crap even is, so..yeah
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"And I gave you all
I'm sure I can give
But It's not enough
And I feel it sting
And our roses died
And the neighbours knew
And the house moved on
To someone new
And I know
You won't be satisfied
'Til the fire inside
Burns like you once knew
But it's gone
And I'm leaving
And your storm
Keeps on raging
Yes I'm gone
And I'm leaving
And your storm
Keeps on raging"
- Olivia Broadfield, "Gone"
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Broken
Jessica has always wondered how it feels to drown. The few minutes that feel like hours from the moment you fall into the water, 'till the moment when you’re under and your brain and body has stopped fighting. How it feels to hold your breath, hoping that a miracle will happen. When you for a split second need to catch your breath, so you open your mouth, trying to breathe in the air that your lungs desperately need. When you instead begin to cough, splutter, and inhale water. When you can feel the life drain out of your body and you realize that, yes, all hope is lost.
She doesn’t know how it feels to drown. And she’s not so sure if she ever wants to find out.
************
Sunlight drifts into Jessica Jung’s bedroom, warming the discolored sheets and burning her bared neckline. She squints in discomfort, but doesn’t draw the curtains. She likes it this way; uncomfortable and mildly pained by the heat. In her hand, there’s a picture of two people clinging to each other, looking at the camera with bright smiles and still passionate dreams and almost unbroken hearts. This was taken on her 23th birthday. September 16th, 2008. Before he started travelling. Before she fell and broke herself beyond repair. Before she realized that nothing, absolutely nothing in this world was amazing or even remotely good, and that everyone that came into her life was only meant to stay for a short period of time, sweeping past like the unreliable wind and leaving her to handle the storm.
The tiny glass frame is covered with dust, and her finger brushes across the picture, trying to point out the one thing that’s wrong with it. Trying to find where, how, and when it all went so horribly wrong.
Before. When she first came to Seoul. When she had left her hometown, swearing that she would never speak nor think about the place and the people she had left behind her. When her mother had screamed, “Take one step out of this house and never come back again.” When Jessica threw her worn leather bag on her shoulder defiantly, admitting to herself that she was probably making the biggest mistake of her life. Her heart wanted her to turn around, run back to her mother and apologize on her knees. To agree to study harder, become the doctor that the whole family expected her to be, and marry her destined-since-birth husband.
But her head said, screw it, you can do so much more with your life, and she walked away without ever looking back.
Before. When she met Kris. With his golden-brown hair, porcelain skin and eyes full of promises of a bright future and unconditional love. When she’d agreed to give her whole heart to him, only to crawl back inside her own shell, still clutching onto the one piece she hadn’t given away.
Before. When he’d held her in his arms, whispering sweet words into her ear, one hand stroking her hair and telling her to trust him. Trust him, and he wouldn’t ever hurt her. Trust him, and he would always protect her. When he’d say those three words, and she felt the reply being blocked by something in her throat, before forcing it out nonetheless only so she wouldn’t disappoint him (“Yes, yes I love you too.”)
Before. When they’d travelled to Guangzhou and met his parents. She had a bad experience with family in general. Her own was so screwed up she couldn't imagine how his could be any better. She didn’t want to, but he’d convinced her (“Don’t you love me?”) (“Yes, I love you”) and she’d found herself sitting awkwardly beside her boyfriend, one leg stiffly crossed over the other and hands fidgeting. Kris’ dad, she’d learned, was the wealthy CEO of the gigantic hotel chain Caesars Atlantic, and was otherwise a man with broad shoulders and tight-knitted eyebrows who carried himself with dignity and solemnity. Jessica couldn’t help feeling tiny underneath his unwavering glare that was constantly targeted at her.
Kris’ mom had been a little warmer, more approachable as she greeted Jessica with a smile and offered her some Chinese herb tea, but her lips tightened into a thin line as the inevitable conversation began. “What do you for a living, dear?”
“Oh, I – I don’t have a job right now. I haven’t found something desirable yet, but I’m still keeping my eyes open.”
“So how do you spend your time?”
“I’m currently taking vocal lessons and helping out at my friend’s local café.”
The old woman had looked mildly confused for a second before smiling warmly again. “Kris told me that you’re studying medicine?”
Her boyfriend had stiffened beside her, and Jessica only shook her head while casting a sideways glance at Kris, while taking a note of chiding him later for lying to his parents about her. “No, ma’am. I studied medicine for a short period of time at my hometown, but quit when I left for Seoul.”
Sheer disappointment and maybe a bit of disdain had been clear in Kris’ mother’s eyes, and Jessica felt herself sink deeper into her seat. “Really. Do – do you have any plans for the future at all?” It sounded like his mother was trying to grasp at straws, as if hoping that Jessica would say something – anything – that could redeem herself in Kris’ parents’ eyes.
Instead, Jessica had ignored the half-scared, half-threatening glare her boyfriend shot at her, and stuck her chin out boldly. She wasn’t about to be looked down on by some stuck-up snobs. “Kris and I are doing just fine the way we are right now, so I don’t see why I should need my entire life mapped out in front of me.”
At that, Kris’ father had snorted not-so-subtly, muttering under his breath, “that’s because my son is the only one providing for the both of you.”
Jessica only remembers bits and pieces after that, all swirling into a confusing mess of memories and plans-gone-wrong in her head. She remembers storming out of the house, into the nearest taxi, to the airport and home to Seoul. She remembers that Kris hadn’t followed.
She remembers all the before’s. But what about all the after’s?
After, when Kris had not so much walked as dragged himself into their apartment, having finally come back from Guangzhou. When he’d held her trembling body in his arms, muttering “sorry’s" and stupid, empty promises (“they’ll come around. I promise. I love you, I’m sorry I lied.”) When he’d wiped all her tears away and asked, “Are you okay?” and she’d thought, no, no I’m not fúckíng okay, only the words never made it pass her lips, and she’d answered instead, “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Are we okay?”
No we’re not fúckíng okay. “Yes, we’re fine.”
And Kris had smiled with relief, thinking that he’d fixed the damage and wiped away the tears but he couldn’t have known. He couldn’t have known that her heart was still crying.
After, when they’d been together for merely a year and he’d gone down on one knee, his hand clutching a tiny velvet box. When he’d put his heart into her hands and wanted her to agree to a life with him. When he’d said, “it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. I love you, and I want to marry you. So…Marry me, Jessica. Please marry me.” And she’d refused to look at the diamond ring, refused to accept that this was really happening and that Kris, after only knowing her for a fúckíng meaningless year wanted her to give him her forever.
After, when Kris had slowly drifted further and further away from her after she had rejected his proposal. She’d been scared, and worried that she might’ve hurt him a bit too much, and even considered putting on the damn ring herself just so he wouldn’t be so upset. But Kris had only smiled in understanding, just like he always did, and promised her that he would wait. He would wait for her, no matter how long it took.
After, when she’d come home from one of her vocal lessons and found half of their closet emptied, his clothes removed, and his suitcase gone with it. When she’d realized that he’d left her a petty voice mail (“I’m sorry, I had to go on a business trip to Tokyo. I’ll be back soon. Love you.”) And Jessica had debated between crying of loneliness or being happy that she and Kris would be away from each other for the first time since they started dating.
“Soon”, he’d said. He hadn’t mentioned how “soon” would quickly become three weeks. Then a month. Then two months and a half. “I’m sorry, it’s just taking a bit longer than usual. It’s so much to do here, my father wants me to take over –“
And Jessica had wanted to tell his dear father to shove it, but she’d kept quiet. “Are you okay?” Kris had asked when she hadn’t responded. “No,” she’d admitted before hanging up, not picking up the phone for the next two days.
After, when she’d been preparing to audition for SM entertainment after nailing a rendition of Whitney Houston’s “When you believe” and her vocal teacher had given her standing applause and never-ending praises. When he’d encouraged her to sing it again, just one last time to make sure that she was ready for the big world, and she’d reach for an impossibly high note. When she not so much heard as felt her voice crack and suddenly realized that, while her mouth was open, no sound was coming out of it. When the doctor had concluded that she suffered from vocal cord nodules, but that it wasn’t the end of the world. That she could probably sing again, but that her voice might not ever be the same again. And Jessica had cried. She’d been angry, exhausted, devastated.
After, when she’d dialed Kris’ number with trembling hands, waiting for a reply that never came. When she’d curled up into a ball and screamed out every fúckíng bad thing that had happened to her and cursing those people who’d done nothing to help. Her parents, with their own failed ambitions that they wanted to force on her. Fúck them. Kris’ parents, with their snobbish personalities and who only wanted to push her down. Fúck them. Her boyfriend, with his shallow love and inability to heal her heart and wounds. Fúck him.
And herself, for just being her; a broken result of unreachable goals, cruelly high expectations and inability to understand love and happiness.
After, when she’d attempted to call her mother in a moment of weakness. When she’d felt so hopeless and painfully lonely, and she’d nearly sobbed, “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry for disappointing you. I’m sorry for ruining everything. I miss you,” before realizing that her mother had hung up upon hearing her voice.
After, when Kris had finally showed up in their apartment again after being gone for three months. When he’d tried to give her a kiss and she’d pushed him away angrily (“don’t you fúckíng dare come back here and pretend that everything is okay.”)
After, when he’d seen how the dark circles under Jessica’s eyes had become more prominent. When she started smiling less, laughing less, living through every day just for the sake of surviving. When she began to avoid looking directly into his eyes, because she knew that all he could so was a broken toy he had to fix. She was sick of it. Sick of people wanting her to behave like this and that. Sick of everyone trying to fix her.
After, when he’d finally get her to accept his embrace again, and he’d muttered, “What can I do for you, Jessica? Please. Tell me what I can do for you…”
And she’d wanted to scream, there is nothing you can do for me because you don’t fúckíng understand anything. He was worried sick, as was evident in his shaking voice. So instead, she snuggled closer to him and let him press his lips against hers for the first time in months. She’d closed her eyes then, trying, trying so hard to find that passion and lust. Eventually, she’d given up, and just let him guide her through it. Kris had tried his best, but she'd remained indifferent.
She’d kissed him, and she felt nothing.
********
The photo in her hands falls to the ground with a disgusting sound, the glass shattering into a thousand pieces. Jessica lets her hands rest on her lap, the visions of old memories becoming blurry in her head. This is when she starts to forget. This is when confusion takes over and she’s left sitting with shards of glass scattered around her feet, still wondering why it all went so wrong.
She closes her eyes again, but not before registering something wet roll down her cheeks. It’s all so blurry, confusing, complicating.
After, when she’d sat in that waiting room, hands clutching her phone and heart hammering in her chest. When she’d been waiting for permission to enter his room, while imagining the image of his pale, distorted body on the white bed. She’d imagined that he would still be beautiful even when unconscious. When the doctor had said, “I’m sorry, but we did everything we could.” That was all she really heard. “Massive internal bleedings…didn’t wear his seatbelt…all bones crushed…”
After, when she’d gone home to the apartment she had stormed out of after ending things with him, and seen all the things he’d prepared for her on the dinner table. Candles that had been blown out by the cold wind, roses that had been left to die scattered on the table, and delicious food that was never to be eaten. When she’d picked up the empty plates and hurled them at the wall, watching it break into pieces with a crazy, satisfied smile. And she’d fallen asleep on the floor, surrounded by the remains of their broken relationship.
She’d wondered, back then, if everything after leaving her hometown had been a mistake. Meeting him. Falling in love with him. Falling out of love with him. Giving him almost everything, and yet holding back what was most important because she couldn’t – she couldn’t let him have it.
The sun outside has slowly, but surely gone down now, and darkness fills the large bedroom. Jessica blinks away the tears. Outside, she thinks. Outside, in the real world where people are still living their lives because they want to, because they have a reason to, unlike her, who still doesn’t know what the héll she’s doing here on this earth.
The temperature in the bedroom has fallen dramatically, and she starts shivering, but not because of the cold. She’s shivering because it hurts to look at him; with his empty eyes and painfully beautiful face. He’s staring at her for a while, before his gaze lands on the broken photo frame on the floor. His eyebrows pull together, and she imagines her boyfriend would cry if he had been able to.
“Why?” he simply asks, but he seems too exhausted to even look upset. He’d been asking her the same question every night, and every single time, she just hadn’t been able to give him a proper answer.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica tells him, an apology she’s been reciting for the past year. She sounds like a broken record. “I’m so, so, sorry Kris.” And she is. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more sorry about anything. Sorry for stringing him along, pulling him into her pathetic life with people that had ruined it and refusing to let him in until she eventually broke him too.
A tear slowly rolls down his cheek. “I loved you so much, Jessica.” His voice is thick with emotion and pleads of second chances, but deep down, they both know that it’s just too little and too late.
“I know,” she replies. “And I loved you too.” She closes her eyes, whispering, “I just didn’t love you enough.”
When she opens them again, he’s gone, and for some reason, she’s certain that he won’t be coming back. Not tomorrow night, not the night after that, not ever. She’ll never see the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, feel his lips against hers, she’ll never feel his arms around her again and the feeling is so suffocating she thinks she could drown in it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t love you enough,” she says, but no one’s listening.
There’s a strange feeling of tearing and a burning sensation in her chest as she finally stops fighting it. She hugs her knees tightly against her chest as pain rips through her, before falling back against her pillow – her pillow, which still smells of him. Then, slowly, the aching in her chest slips into a feeling of calmness and tranquility and she can no longer feel anything.
This, she thinks – this is how it must feel like to drown.