LEVANTER ━ ONESHOTS

WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS

» [WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS - MICHAENG] «
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GROUP: TWICE
PAIRING: MICHAENG
REQUESTED? yes/no✓

Inspired by While My Guitar Gently Weeps by The Beatles

Mina swung her legs over New York City, eyes closed as cars sped below her.

She was perched on the ledge of her apartment building, listening closely to the sounds of the city as she stared at the sky, wishing with all her might that the lights of the buildings and the smog of the cars wouldn't drown out the glow of the stars she loved so dearly.

Mina missed the country.

She missed the sounds of the ground rumbling beneath her feet, the heartbeat of the world reverberating through her body as she lay against her one and only friend—the lovely Earth. She missed how she'd put her body against the growing grass, staring into the night sky as her mind ran through the places she'd configured—wandering in the wilderness of her imagination.

She missed the feeling of mother nature holding her hand, whispering the secrets of the universe into her ear as Mina learned the beauty of softness. She remembered the words of her father—"Talk quietly, my dear. Don't speak over the spirits"—and his imaginative tales of the wind making promises and the trees telling lies.

("Be silent, my dear," he'd whisper to her. "Do you hear that sound? The leaves are brushing together, formulating uncertainty in their enemies. Beware of the lies the trees tell you, my love. You can never know just what the truth is.")

As she aged, she learned the difference between true and make-believe—but when she was lying in the countryside, on the edge of the Earth with no one but herself, the difference between what she'd made and what the universe had didn't matter. It was all real to her.

Now, she's sitting on the edge of an apartment building in the middle of New York City—still by herself, but much more alone than she'd ever been.

When her father passed away, she moved to the city.

It was nothing like the country. It was a snowglobe; beautiful on the outside but when you're in the middle, all you can see are the chaotic flurries swirling and whipping around you with nauseating force and you can't tell what is and what isn't. Mina was inside the snowglobe, stuck behind the glass with nasty things and nasty people.

In the city, everyone talked too loudly.

She couldn't hear the promises of the wind or the lies of the trees, the whispers of the world or the secrets of the foliage. No, the city was filled with meticulous snippets and drawn-out lies, the empty swears of the marginalized and hopeless tales of a love that never lasts.

Mina misses the country.

"Please don't be startled. You might fall."

Maybe Mina isn't as alone as she thinks.

She peers over her shoulder, spotting a girl with shoulder-length curly hair the color of sandy deserts and eyes as vast as the oceans deep.

Mina swallows.

The girl's lips quirk up at the sides. She takes a step forward. "May I sit with you?"

Mina paused, observing the blonde. She was tempted to say no—in the country, Mina never wanted to share her space with anyone. It was her, her father, and her world.

But this isn't the country anymore. Her father was gone and her Earth was buried deep below the surface, nestled in the ground far underneath her hanging feet. It's not hers anymore. It can't hurt.