norywidth | [Fic] On the other side of sadness... (prologue)

Genre: AU. Angst. Friendship.
Pairing: Akame
Rating: PG for this one
Beta: partially by

ttalktomesoftly
Summary: A book, a dream, and years of repressed emotions pilled inside Jin that Sunday morning...
Disclaimer: The boys don't belong to me ~~yet~~. So, so far, just the plot is mine
Warning: Unbetaed. English is not my mother tongue. Also, this is very angsty so far. It is a way to celebrate Akame's Day, sorry not to bring any happiness to this day... I'm just checking out if anyone would be willing to read this through ~~'cause I've lost my confidence in my writing~~ Enjoy? :3

~*~

It hit him all of a sudden and a stream of heavy, clear tears fell off his face down to the navy sofa he was lying on and turned a spot in the cloth into a darker shade of blue.

He had dreamt of his childhood friend the night before.

It all made sense to him now: Why he had been tempted to stay in bed that Sunday morning, a fuzzy, warm feeling luring him to bed; how he had strolled to the bathroom in such a good mood despite the fact that nothing nice or remotely good had happened to him all week or the past months; how he had settled with a simple breakfast that had tasted so good even if the edges of the bread were burnt and the coffee had a bitter flavor.

And now, after a whole morning of nothing but vapid experiences that were spiced up with an unjustified good feeling, Jin had settled with reading the book he ought to have finished last week and the sudden realization had hit him just then.

He had dreamt with his childhood friend that night —the one that had almost virtually disappeared from his life at one point only to haunt him from time to time with that thudding feeling on his chest, painting his life in an awful palette of a melancholic and depressing shade of colors ever since. Jin could almost laugh at his silly, delayed reaction, how his fingers started itching with a feeling he had almost forgotten completely and rummaged around for a notepad and the closest pen he could grab a hold of and started scribbling letter after letter on a white page on his notebook.

He had been reading about this woman, Esther Greenwood, who was going crazy because she couldn’t eat or sleep, but even more so because she couldn’t read or write —as if it were a bizarre parallelism to what had happened to Jin and his inability to write more than a single sentence per month for the last couple of years. Just then, Jin had been attacked by the sudden memory of that honest hug he had shared with that friend, the warm smile and stare his friend had showered him with and the stupid jokes they had been able to squeeze between the long, cozy hug that had seemed to last forever back then but didn’t feel like enough anymore.

Just as a lazy smile crept up to his serious face and made the edges of his mouth twitch, the sensation of how these images belonged to the realm of dreams and not to the corner of his precious memories halted the gesture halfway, and turned it instead into a simple intention.

They hadn’t met for years now, hadn’t shared a hug or exchanged words even, hadn’t seen each other all grown-up, couldn’t even imagine how the other looked now… wouldn’t even do it.

Jin just settled there on his dark blue sofa, the leftovers of an incomplete smile fusing together with The Hours soundtrack he had chosen to listen to while reading about the dark life of Esther Greenwood as the pale rays of sunlight that seeped past the see-through curtains of his small living room —the soundtrack and cinematography of the poignant film about his very own life.