"I've lied for you, and I liked it too."
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Han Jisung was a dancer. He spent countless of hours at his cousin's dance studio, moving his lean body to the bass of whatever song played through the speakers. But when he wasn't wasting his life away, (d...
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𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐋;
It's been two weeks. Two weeks since the Han family had gotten the terrible life changing news that the eldest member had tragically passed away due to a heart attack. Jisung handled it surprisingly well; managing to keep his head up and shoulders back as he knew nothing good would come from dwelling on a relative that was reaching his end anyway. It might have came off as heartless, but it was a way better mind set than pushing everyone away as he decides to brood in the darkness of his bedroom. He still got up early and attended his job at Stray Kids, and he still found motivation to create what could hopefully be his first album. But maybe it was too much motivation? Because all while he persevered through the heart wrenching death of his grandfather by jotting down new lyrics, it was also taking a negative toll on his body. He stayed late hours at the company building, not leaving until one of the few janitors said that it was closing time. It left him exhausted. And even though he knew that he should stop—maybe rest for a few hours, or eat an actual meal that wasn't a sloppy sandwich he had gotten from the building cafeteria hours before—he couldn't. He kept reminding himself that it was better than how his father was dealing with the sudden misfortune; someone who decided that he much rather stay at home and work than go in. Or someone who was desperately begged to come out of his room and do something productive but disagrees with a grunt.
Yeah, Jisung much rather suffer through endless new tracks that held melodies outside of his bland home than sulk.
Unfortunately that boring Wednesday he had his mandatory day off. He debated whether he should actually take the peaceful hours to relax—take some time to actually mourn over his grandfather, or continue on with constructing new music with matching choreography. And the idea of his job blinding him from the raw emotions (that he had every right to feel) almost won, if he hadn't walked into his room that afternoon. It was a mess. With clothes thrown in every direction; trash not reaching the small bin, just barely missing it by a few inches; and small objects he forgot he even owned tipped or misplaced. He hadn't realized he let his bedroom get so filthy. And when he accidentally stepped on something quite slimy making him cringe, did he think that it was time for him to tidy the disaster he could say he slept in.
He had gotten most of it done; starting with any loose garbage before moving on to picking up any random knick-knacks. While he was stripping his bed from the smelly sheets he thought it would be a perfect moment to also collect all of his dirty laundry. He grabbed jeans from under his desk, underwear somehow from beneath his bed, and shirts found in the corners of his room. His arms were full, but he still had a few thrown garments close to his closet. Deciding to just pile everything in the middle of his floor before taking small portions, he then took the needed steps to gather the couple of shirts that lay in front of his closed closet door. One was a blue graphic tee, the image of a cartoon women's red lips smoking a cigarette. Another was a yellow sweater that had the word honey stitched on the side of the chest. And one final was a white long sleeve button-up. Jisung couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows as he held the thin fabric within his fingers. The cloth wasn't one of his, he was sure of it. Lifting it a little higher so the sun that shined from his window struck it, he tilted his head to inspect it further. It wasn't until he managed to sniff the faint smell of cologne did he realize who it belonged to.
