Pairing: no pairing, Jiyong-centric
Word Count: 440
Genre: Angst, AU or not, you choose
Disclaimer: I don't own the persons, just the story.
Summary: Being free, and not being it.
A/N I'm such a slow writer! I'm working on two fics right now, but it take some time 'till I finish at least one of them, so when this little story came to my mind I wrote it down as quickly as possible. Thought I'd share it here. It's a bit random.
It could really be anyone from anything, but in my mind I saw Jiyong standing on the roof. You may imagine someone else if you want.
He stands on the roof top of the skyscraper, and looks. Looks at the sight of hundreds of people beneath him, unaware of him, looking like little ants walking in lines. From nest to nest. Every day.
They don’t see him, but he sees them. All of them. He’s like a god. A mischievous grin spreads on his lips.
He stands on the edge of the building. The night air is cold and the wind is restless, like his mind and the beating of his heart and he feels like screaming out. He wants to write this feeling down, but it’ll never be as good as it feels right now. Nor could he even express it right.
Wonder if the people would hear him if he screamed? Who cares? He laughs out instead, forcing it as loud as he can, freely, and the wind catches it and throws it away into the darkness, where the lights of the city can’t reach.
If he stood up on the railing, Jiyong wonders, would he be able to stand still, or would the wind catch him as it did his voice, and throw him off the building? Probably, he thinks unconcerned. And because he’s no bird that has wings, and because he’s small and scrawny like a tree branch, and because humans can’t fly no matter how much they want to, he would fall, down, down, down all the way, ‘till his head would smash to the ground and then the people would see him for sure. That’s the only way they would ever see him.
He can’t fly. And he could reach out his hand but still not touch the sky.
So Jiyong sits down instead, sticking his head between the bars of the railing, and imagines he’s an animal trapped in a cage. He takes a hold of the bars with his hands and tries to shake them like he’s crazy.
“Let me out! Let me out!” he tries to scream as loud as he can, not caring how wrecked he sounds. No one cares how he sounds.
LET ME OUT!
He stops, and then he waits for his breath to even. He listens.
No answer, no sound but the whistle of the wind and the murmurs and noises from the ants below. The air is really cold, the chill creeping down his spine, his scrawny back under the hoodie, and he shivers.
No answer. He listens some more.
No answer. Nothing behind him, nothing in front of him.
Jiyong looks down to the lights below and he wishes they would see him. Anyone. Please.