#dev:jack

he’s 20 years old and the years have passed with much consequence, as cram packed with evident as his suitcase as he left the apartment he and his mother had miraculously been in for the last 4 years. or was it 5. it must be 5. they had only just moved there when he was still dating his last girlfriend.

his first girlfriend, the first real one. not counting nikola who he held hands with on the bus when he was 13. 

nostalgia leads him to send the message. in case she called, in case they never met again. and for no other reason (he tells himself.)

─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    how’ve you been?  ─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    me and mom are moving, isn’t that crazy? ─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    seems like yesterday we were eating noodles after class at this stupid place

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─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    doesn’t this remind you of something? ─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    [embedded img]

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because of medina, he rarely spoke to most of his friends. having a serious girlfriend, and a serious interest in spellcasting, he rarely made time for anything else. between classes, he spent his time bringing her lunch and checking on her day. he was the type of person who fell into his partners, often lost sight of everything else.

when he ran into cerise, it both surprised him that they were in the same specialty, and reassured him. ah. she hadn’t changed much. she and him were still two sides of the same coin.

beyond the scalding burns of their last arguments, the scars of their last days, the bad memories ─ there’s all of the times he thought she was so much like him.

─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    how’s the casting coming along ─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    you must be a natural by now

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─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    how’s your brother? ─ 💬 ⋅ cerise :    my mom asked about you...

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after his fiancé ran off on him, he had been hiding in himself, in his duties, in the dimness of wish fulfillment, unsatisfied with sorrow, fighting off an incursion of ire.

he didn’t want to hate her. to blame her for wanting to live a full and fulfilling life. her second chance.

second chances should be given and taken without restraint. otherwise, what’s the point of them?

he thinks of all the moments he wished he had sieged. taken up residence inside of the wants in his hearts, the yearning that cast shadows of regret over the memories that took up inside of him. like pitchforks, they waved to keep him at bay, ready and waiting to mob him when he closed his eyes to sleep.

that’s the thing about wishing, second chances, regrets.

they’re too stubborn to go away on their own.

he had more than a few himself. beyond the fiancé he loved so deeply, and was so deeply devastated by.

there was baggage called regret in the compartments of his mind that had been there for almost forever. covered in spiderwebs, covered in dust. his regrets had a name. he never regretted turning his life in to yuuko for his fiancé. 

but he did regret never making things right with her.

his regrets had a name.

he was practicing to be a bird.

first — it’s knees painted with dirt and grass stains, working overtime to get him as high in the air as he can possibly go on the swing. a full circle? all the way around? can he lift off if he hops out of his seat at just the right time, so that the wind that lashes against his cheeks, raw from the cold and red, can take him to the sky?

jack’s playing on the swing set where his mother had sent him off to. the chains are freezing, he forgot to put on his overcoat — but he had never gone this high before. a distinct lack of concern for his chattering teeth when his ambitious heart radiates such soaring warmth.

the thing about, well, every day, is that jack is bored and lonely. but especially during the holiday’s when his cousins aren’t there to keep him company. even if his father were home, there would be no contact, certainly none pertaining to fun. and jack had no school to attend. (his mother is usually his only company.) that, and the worn ground beneath his feet where he had made a home kicking his heels at the swing. and his mother, who he watches from the rhythm he block as he picks up speed.

he’s good at going very very high, very fast, because no one is better than him at playing here on this set. his mother used to go along with him, slow, not high at all, just a steady, smooth rocking motion where her feet never left the ground but instead rolled back and forth on the heels of her feet. he remembers how her long, floral summer dresses would drag the ground.

“it’ll get dirty,” he once said, a sunray in his voice as he remained out of breath from working so hard.

“it’s no matter,” mother would say and she’s swing just a tiny bit higher, “it’s just a dress.” and he saw no flaws in the statement, even though the dress seemed too pretty to get dirty. (if it had been his clothes getting dirty like that, his father would have locked him away in his room to teach him the value of property and taking care of oneself. then he would be stuck there until his mother snuck in to let him free after his father went to work. of course, she would clean the dirt from them and tell him once again that it’s just clothes. so maybe, it all checks out and he had been listening too well to his father when it came to his worries) “i have so many dresses. i’ll just get a new one. this dress isn’t special. dirt comes off, remember?” she always talked to him so much, like a soundboard, he listened and soaked it all up, never knowing what to say and being too young to care, or reply with anything more than —

“look how high i can go!” he cried in the middle of her sentence and she smiled and her jewelry sparkled in the sun.

“you’re like a bird.”

his roseous laughter was high in tone, a shriek that she winced at but just as quickly she shook her head and looked back. then, would look out into the yard lost in thought.

“look, look,” he called again and again. her gaze returned to him every time and the smile endlessly returned with it.

he looks up at her today, all alone from the swing set. from there, when he goes just as high as he possibly can, he can see her at the second floor window, the panes flapping in the cold wind, the clatter of wood frame and glass smacking into the side of the house. waving frenetically with one hand from the swing, he screams her name to get her to watch him as she always did.

with her slacks and barefoot hanging from the window, she might be practicing to be a bird, too. perfected on the window seal with her feet dangling, and her long hair blowing in the icy wind. his mother didn’t like to go too high, so it seems so obvious she’s trying to fly just like him.

he calls again, louder, with a smile amplified to match.

she doesn’t answer, so he tries to show her he can fly like she can, pumping his legs so that he goes high and — he jumps.

it’s much faster than he thought it would be. and it doesn’t feel like flying, it feels hot and cold and sharp and blunt and he cries when he crashes right back into the ground with the wind knocked out of him so that he gasps and gasps, and the sobs start instantly.

jack can’t quite fly yet.

maybe he’s too little?

he rolls over in the frigid grass as it pokes his face and hands and bare arms, and he sniffles and heaves to get the breath back into his lungs.

by the time he can almost breathe again, there are frantic hands scooping him up so rapidly that he cries out from being startled, his mother’s voice in his ear and the only thought he has: maybe she really can fly.

one hand is hectically scathing every inch of him with pats to check for pieces missing, as the other rubs slow circles over his back and all at once as if she had summoned it, the oxygen slowly creeps back into his lungs.

“hey, breathe son, breath,” she pats slower now and she’s crouched next to him.

her features seem red today, red and blue and gray, no makeup, no silver jewelry. she pulls him into her lap and now all he can breathe is her perfume.

“don’t ever jump like that again.” she scolds him, with a hand in his hair. “please don’t scare me like that.”

how did she get down so fast? there’s a tear in her knee of her slacks, but she just hugs him tighter and he can’t see it any longer.

he can’t see her crying either, but he feels that in the jagged sobs and the way she squeezes him so hard he nearly can’t breathe again.

 jack in a 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

jeans you’ve worn in and feel most comfortable in.

gnawing on the inside of your cheek when you’re deep in thought or without thinking.

stop motion.

sunrise in the morning, sunrays waking you up with a kiss but you’re too tired to hear it.

popping of logs on a fire, kindling making sparks. the glow that becomes brighter when the wind blows.

holes in a sweater.

sluggish and slow speech patterns, deep, quiet, unhurried.

smudged glasses but too lazy to clean them.

a perfectly tuned instrument, greased, cleaned, in sync, making cleanly and exactly the sound you wanted.

leaning into someone taller than you.

gritted teeth.

firm, indisputable truths.

awkward, bubbling laughter that starts loud and gets quieter and quieter.

dedicating something to someone.

morning jogs. working out until your muscles are sore.

tripping over something you left lying on the ground that you told yourself you wouldn’t forget.

smiling at the sound of someone’s laugh.

writing too hard on paper so that the lead tip of your pencil breaks. the indentions it leaves on the next page like ghost prints.

the scent of seafoam, cool, salty, light, sandy. the way it melts between your fingers under the heat of your skin.

typing a message, staring at it too long until you second guess and erase to start over.

fresh ice water in your favorite cup.

the tender touches and hugs that come when you make up with someone after an argument. when someone wipes your tears and anger dissipates or gently pats your back.

silky, messy hair that’s always in your eyes.

collecting timepieces. “the right watch” for every new day. different ones for different moods.

slightly oversized clothes, comfortable and cozy clothes that you can sleep in.

taking a long pause, then starting all over again with a different approach.

burning the ends of yarn, thread, fabric, to keep it from unraveling.

the lethargic feeling in the morning, going through motions without using complex thought, all motions and no meaning.

coffee when it’s too hot to drink so you just breathe it in and wait patiently.

taking a breath so deep it hurts your chest.

liking a song so much you put it on repeat.

natural colors, warm earth tones and cool neutrals.

not knowing your own strength.

everything feeling just a bit more when it’s 3am. more inspired. more sad. more funny. more hungry.

desperately wanting to win. working up a sweat trying to be the last one standing.

holding the door for someone.

high quality fabrics, well made clothes.

rich and savory scents and linger, smelling food for another room or across a house and knowing it’ll be time to eat soon ♥.

having a lucky number.

sweaters, cardigans, hoodies and overcoats.

a half made bed, blankets and pillows fluffed quickly and thoughtlessly.

blankets wrapped around your legs and between your thighs.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

jack in a 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅

ASTROBOY.  ━  SUGGI

i grew up loving the stars though they taught me to hate the night back of my mind, loving the dark always wanting to touch the moon

BE RIGHT THERE ━  KUNGS, STARGATE, JOSH GOLDEN

when the lights go down, and the stars come out i’ll be right here, i’ll be right here under stars girl, underwater, when you can’t breathe i’ll be here for you when it’s past three in the morning and you can’t sleep

:M (MIND)  ━  ALEX

how are you? I’m fine same answer today when are you going to give me a longer answer? i’m melting my frozen heart again and my mouth is coming out. i’m so :m

SLEEP MODE ━  BERNARD PARK

pullin’ up my sheets over my head even when the sun is bright locked up and i can’t get out ye i know it’s only her whose gonna set me free get me back up on my feet

SWEET NIGHT ━  ORIGIN (V)

if you are too good to be true and would it be alright if i pulled you closer how could i know one day i’d wake up feeling more but i had already reached the shore

STAY ━  GAHO

please, stay by my side please, stay by my side if you stay like that, like that please wrap me again in the words of your belief in me

I’D BE SAD IF YOU WERE GONE ━  SLCHLD

did i put you down it was an accident i swear where are you now? don’t go yet. you have to endure the pain that’s coming. don’t go

NO ONE TOLD ME WHY ━  ALEPH

tell me why do i always hang onto something things that are about to collapse, days that have passed by if you love me, please tell me now please love me before it’s too late

I.L.Y ━  THE ROSE

after a tiring day it’s always your smile every time i’m with you i feel comfortable

I SWEAR I’LL NEVER LEAVE AGAIN ━  KESHI