strawberry blond.
part of the “now playing: mitski!” series
Jisung had been avoiding the truth for the past six months, but now, it’s time to face the storm. even if it hurts.
angst. and I mean it. (still, hope you enjoy it!)
TW: mentions of death and one's struggles to accept it.
WC: 2.1k
[☆★🌌★☆]
Han Jisung loved many things, but one of his favourites was to lay down on the grass near Han River after a concert.
He could still hear the echo of the cheering and clapping on stage, his ears buzzing in a high-pitched sound that felt almost nostalgic despite it not having been too long since the show had ended.
A small smile lingered on his features as the night breeze grazed him tenderly, eyes focused on the sky full of stars above, hands playing with the strands of grass in between his fingers, pulling at it, playing with it on his hands, tugging the petals of the small dandelions near.
He had always cherished the night after a show or a concert. And it had always been with you, lying down near the river, either sighting softly at the breeze or laughing under the rain.
He turned his head, blinking slowly, staring at the empty space at his side, and his heart skipped a beat, leaving him breathless for an instant.
Your smile beamed, and so did his, but shyly, as if he was afraid of being happy. With a soft grunt, you got up, almost giddily as you pranced around on the grass, barefoot, tugging at his sleeve and softly kicking his legs so he’d get up too, giggling sheepishly.
“C’mon, Hannie!” You shined.
He sighed, ignoring the hand you offered at him, almost as if it wasn’t there, tangible, before him, and instead pushed himself up by his knees.
You snickered, quickly putting your shoes back on and childishly hopped around him, both heading back to the car.
He stared at you, at your strawberry blond hair that reached the small on your back, the silhouette of the tall buildings that surrounded the area getting blurry in his eyes while your figure took over his gaze.
You faltered, turning around.
“I love this river.”
And I love you.
But he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he stared at you as you smiled, breathing in, arms outstretched, as if yearning that the breeze would take you with her.
He sighed, again, but it was even more melancholic. Broken. As grey as the clouds that started to cover the sky above, and as grey as the river flowed, not able to reflect the light the stars and moon shined, turning dark.
You frowned. “What’s wrong?” Your eyes softened at him, getting closer. “Why are you crying, Hannie?”
A tearful snicker left his lips. His knuckles threatened to graze your cheeks, your features soft to the eye, but he retracted his hand, shaking his head slightly and grinning at you.
“It’s ok.” He sniffed, heart-shaped smile softly fading away. “I got something in my eye.”
You both got in the car, and he stared at the empty place beside him, eyes in a shy shade of red, holding his tears back.
He heard you giggle when you opened the window, taking your hand out and playing with the wind in your hands, childishly fascinated at the resistance of your palm and the speed of the car, not too fast but enough that the breeze felt much stronger.
The tips of your long strawberry blond hair also were out, flowing rapidly to the air as he stared at the asphalt roadway, fighting the impulse to hold your free hand that rested on your thigh.
But he kept driving, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Driving somewhere he didn’t really want to go. With someone who wasn’t really there.
His heart skipped a beat. Emotional. The happy, nervous feeling that lingered when your body was close to him came back, the feeling that shivered in his body whenever the cute nickname you called him rolled off your tongue. But it ached.
He parked not too long after, and he got out of the car, grinning softly as you played with the dents in the pathway, hopping and skipping around in cutesy, childish giggles.
“Wait!” You whispered-yelled all of a sudden.
And his body stopped in his tracks, almost reluctantly, as if fighting a treacherous battle between his heart and his brain, his stare finally turning to face you fondly, yet his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Can you hear it?”
Your tone was soft, tender, so much that Jisung could almost feel it surround him lovingly, a deep, sweet voice resonated with warmth, like rich honey pouring slowly, a comforting and soothing melody that wrapped around him, a blanket in a cold winter.
The soft buzz of a small, hardworking little bee surprised him, his face displaying raw emotion, a stray tear slowly falling rolling down his cheek.
He was afraid of bugs. But he loved you. And because of it, he had learned to love those fuzzy little bees, who’s buzzing sound you cherished deeply.
The small bee lingered around the two of you, and gently pranced to the small plants and flowers on the side of the street.
“Oh, look! Forget-me-nots!” Your smile shined as you bent down to get a closer look at the small bluish flowers. “It means remembrance, but also true love and devotion,” you muttered happily. “It’s my favourite flower.”
His heart ached as he bent down next to you and picked a small branch, keeping it close to him, twirling it nervously in his hand as you both wandered, walking down the empty street.
“Hannie?” Your voice pondered. “You haven’t said anything in a while.” He smiled softly at your statement, nodding.
He froze in front of a large metal door, its paint thin and torn into small pieces that remained on the floor, the dents left from it falling, now rusty.
“Hannie?” Your voice faltered.
He tried to smile.
“I haven’t been too cheerful tonight, haven’t I?”
His eyes couldn’t hold yours for long, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.
He held your hands in a sudden motion, and his touch crashed through your body like a storm.
Jisung gasped, his cries growing in intensity. “It’s… it’s been… what, six months?” He let out a gentle laugh, yet it was painful to hear. “Six months since… you’ve been gone.”
Your eyes widened, as if you remembered everything all of a sudden.
“I…” he nodded, his hands roaming through your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, your body feeling weak by his touch. “The… accident…”
He cried, hugging your now translucent body.
“I m-miss you s-so much.” He trembled, hugging you tightly despite how cold your body felt. “I… I wanted to do so much with you. I… I love-”
“No! D-don’t say it.”
You cradled his face in your hands.
“I… I’ll wait for you. Up there. Next to the stars. Don’t even dare rush to me. I have all my life. Or. Well, you. Y-you have all your life in front of you.” You cried, yet you still were smiling at him. Broken.
He bit his lip. Hard. God, this wasn’t fair. He wanted to scream it to you. To put into words how his heart was beating for you, for the memories of you he held so dearly, and to fail miserably, because no words could ever do justice to what he was feeling. To whisper to the whole world how he loved you.
But he couldn’t whisper anything, because his whole world wasn’t right before him, but six feet under, behind that metal door fence he hadn’t dared to cross.
In the fading twilight, beneath a blur of somber clouds that mirrored the heaviness in his heart, Jisung stayed put, staring at you, someone who wasn't actually there, in front of the cemetery, as if at the crossroads of farewell. The air, thick with unspoken words hung between you like a shroud.
Han traced the outline of your face with trembling fingertips, as if committing each pore in your skin to memory, etching the details of her existence onto his soul, heart, or mind. His eyes, once vibrant with shared laughter and secret glances, now reflected the inevitable sorrow of parting.
In the end, he had to accept it, right?
A silent understanding passed between you, an acknowledgment that this kiss held the weight of a thousand unspoken goodbyes.
As your lips met, the taste of salt lingered—a mix of tears, both shed and unshed. The kiss carried the bittersweet essence of nostalgia, a blend of the moments you had shared and the ones that would forever remain unfulfilled wishes of sorrowed hearts. It was a dance of desperation and tenderness, an attempt to catch a universe of emotions in a touch.
The world seemed to slow as you clung to each other, as if time itself was reluctant to let go, apologizing for separating those in love.
But an apology wouldn't bring you back, would it?
As he reluctantly pulled away, your eyes locked for an eternity, each gaze a silent plea to remember. He clenched the flowers in his hand. He would remember. He wouldn't—couldn't—forget. The space where his hands once found solace in the warmth of your own grasp now laid vacant, a stark reminder of the impending truth that hurt to accept.
The echo of that parting kiss lingered in the air, a taste of salt on their lips, a bitter reminder that sometimes, love is not enough to defy the cruel hands of fate.
And just as mysteriously as you had appeared in front of him, staying close to him since you had died, he hugged you for what felt like the first time in months, yet the hint of your warmth disappeared, just like your figure in his eyes.
Now, you weren’t there.
Now, your death was real.
And he froze, looking around in that tombstone filled garden.
Until he found it.
“Look at you, Miss Strawberry Blond.” He muttered. He felt his eyes itch as he cried.
He wanted to laugh, to smile for you, using that silly colour you chanted when he called your redhead, just to pick on you, but he started to hiccup, crying to his heart's content and even more as he stared up to the stars, just to find the moon beaming right above.
His heart skipped a beat again.
You were gone.
“N-no… wait…”
But your memory would—will—always stay.
“No… please…”
He clung to the recently-carved stone, sitting on his knees, a crying mess.
Jisung didn’t want any memories back. He didn’t care at all about anything he had lived with you if he couldn’t spend another day with you.
He wanted you back.
“Hannie.”
He stopped breathing.
“Hannie, you need to stop.”
Your voice sounded in his head, almost like a chant in his ears, as if you were talking to him from really far away.
He stared at your name in the tombstone, shaking his head.
How could he stop?
His sadness bubbled inside of him, turning mad.
“Why are you here?” He muttered, tone filled with something that didn’t feel like him.
He sounded destroyed, eyes heavy with grief, shoulders slumped as uncontrollable sobs racked his body, his attempts to speak choked by the overwhelming feelings consuming him.
But your voice couldn’t answer or help.
“You know what?” He sniffed, frowning. “I need to say it. I fucking love you.” The silence that followed almost froze his heart, because now he could say it, but there was no one to say it back.
Still, he continued with a hiccup. “I love you so fucking much I can’t grasp that you’re gone— hell, I’ve been hallucinating about you for months because it’s so fucking painful to face that you’re not here. And I could never even say it. I could never even say how much I’ve loved you and how I’ll keep loving you even now, and it’s n-not—.”
And suddenly, amidst the confession, he felt like instead of breathing heavily, Jisung ran out of air. As if he had been hit without warnings of any kind.
His throat blocked and his chest hurt, and it was as if something had grabbed his heart, until it felt heavy, and an overwhelming feeling ran through him from head to toe as he whimpered and cried. It was a similar feeling to fear, only that it seemed that Han’s heart had been filled with stones, now heavy, confused by emotion. Feeling like it was going to escape and burst out of his chest.
And for a moment, Jisung thought he was going to die. That whatever this was was going to kill him.
“W-why ca-an’t you le-eave?” He cried, ugly, deeply, choking in between sobs as his head started hurting.
“God, H-hannie..”
But he couldn’t hear you anymore.
“It… it hu-urts t-too mu-ch…”
You stared at him from above, tears falling down as he tightly gripped his chest.
“Ple-eas-se…” he whispered “…m-ma-ake it s-sto-op…”
He felt droplets of rain starting to fall down on him.
“J-just… g-get o-ut of my-y head…”
Unlike the one he felt under your touch, a real storm was approaching.
And no one was going to hold an umbrella over his head.
~kats, who is trying really hard not to cry because she has homework to do and she can't read past her tears.
P.S: TYSM TO MY ABSOLUTE STUNNING GORGEOUS BABIES AND LIKE GOD I COULD MAKE THEM A STATUE @binsito @hiddlestandom @evermourning and @ire67 TY FOR PROOF READING THIS AND HELPING ME OUT I REALLY APPRECIATE YOU GUYS TYSSSM<3333!!!!!
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