Dangerous Fellows (Imagines)

eugene - the soundtrack of your lives 2 (requested)

It had been a couple months since the trip and the concert and yet you still found yourself recalling the moment almost every day. How he sang your song. How he searched for you and found you even though there were thousands of people around.

Ever since then, you had written even more songs. As soon as you got back home from the whole trip, you got your diary already half full of your lyrics, found a blank page and wrote.

Verses, stanzas, a whole song.

And you couldn't get enough of writing. As if seeing Gene enjoying his dream so much sparked something in you, it was like fuel that made you write even more, more, more, until your palms and fingers were blue because of the pen's ink that seeped into your skin.

The one diary wasn't enough. You had to buy another to be able to capture all your ideas of songs on paper. And another. Until you had a pile stacked away in a box underneath your desk. A full box of songs waiting to be sung. The paper upon which was scribbled your first song ever, the one for Eugene, was carefully folded and stored within one of the diaries in the box. You had never had the heart to rewrite the song into a diary itself - the paper felt too personal for you to throw it away, with a bunch of underline or crossed verses lined with little comments on the margins. You had never rewritten it also because it contained yours and Gene's signatures, claiming the paper, the lyrics, the music (the dreams, the joy, the hopefulness) as yours forever.

Other than writing more songs, your life was pretty much the same as it had been before seeing Gene sing, live. You were still studying. Still had the same friends. Still worked the same shifts in the part time job you had found.

You had never allowed anyone to read any of your songs, though. Even though you had so many, no one but Eugene had ever seen them, and even he had seen only one. You tricked yourself into believing it was because you felt too self conscious to show them to anyone, fearing the songs aren't good enough, that they're lame and that anyone you'd show them to would laugh at your face while tearing the papers apart.

But the real reason you had hidden them from everyone so diligently was stored away in the depths of your heart.

You still longed for Gene to return, for you to meet. You longed to show him your songs, him and him only. You longed for him to sing them, no one else having the right to do so but him. You longed for him.

You wrote all songs for him.

Over the years you hadn't seen Eugene, after he had moved away and pursued his career successfully, you thought you had gotten over the feelings. You thought you had found peace within yourself and didn't need him by your side anymore. But perhaps it was only that time dulled your feelings, but seeing Eugene in flesh and bones in front of your eyes made them come back double the speed.

You knew you couldn't be selfish. He left and it was for the better - he got a chance to fulfill his dreams and you would never wish him something less than that. But more often than not you couldn't help but wonder how life would've turned out had he not left. Or had he come back.

Confusing thoughts occupied your head on a daily basis. A particular one was gnawing at you.

Does Eugene remembers me like I do and wishes to meet me again?

The thoughts, the chaos, the swirl, there was too much of it suddenly in your otherwise plain life. You didn't know anymore whether having gone to that concert was a good thing. Should you have dusted off all those feelings?

You could've known seeing him so close and yet so out of reach would make the feelings appear back above the surface. You could've predicted your heart would skip a beat.