@protcsts
what kind of idiot writes songs about a lover and never sings it to them when they still see each other? he does. he hadn’t thought about releasing the song, the demo long lost amidst a sea of drafts, until his producer announced his liking for the track. the subsequent love it received wasn’t planned, either. still it’s a song that he rarely ever sings in front of a crowd because of the memories it brings. about something that has long ended and it's all because of his own fault. with artfully veiled reluctance, he agreed to performing it at his friend’s wedding — as terrible as he can be to those who adore him, he’s not cruel enough to refuse a friend on their special day. the soft strums of the guitar fill the room, followed by his mellow voice, warm and easy like early sunshine that greets the sleep-hazed, languid bodies in a sweet embrace. his fond gaze should stay on the gorgeous couple, swaying in the centre of the ballroom, the brightness of their smiles telltale of the love they share. instead, it runs back to the person that occupied every crevice of his mind when he wrote the very same song hours past midnight. it is as though no one else exists in that room — just them. fragments of their time together rush back to the front of his mind, memories that he itched to wash off, but have stayed as stubborn as if they're inked onto his skin. every gentle whisper, every touch fraught with so much tenderness. so much of it left unsaid, so much of it never will be. perhaps his eyes will never fail to find eden in every room, perhaps his heart will always longs for him at the end of it all. perhaps it is one of the things he’ll have to live with forever, the imaginary what-ifs with the one that got away. he is still dazed when he makes his return to the backroom, before he attempts to recollect himself with a few deep breaths. when he’s directed to his seat at the banquet, the regained calm dissipates in seconds and it takes all his courage to greet the table and not fall to his knees. a small nod with a lingering smile is all he could give eden before he takes the only empty seat left. with feigned attention, he listens to the acquaintances mingle with the few faces he knows, follows suit when they laugh at an anecdote he's missed entirely. he is being uncharacteristically quiet, but he can’t help it when all his mind can think of is how eden’s hand is only inches away from his own. dear god, spare him.
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