Justine Leonine
Love is mysterious and sudden.
When I first met him, I never thought that I’d grow to love him.
He was the brightest star in the sky, the compass of my soul, and basically, my everything.
It's fascinating.
Getting to know him feels like opening a gift full of things that will surprise you but still makes you love everything about him.
We were friends before. We’re still friends now, but it wasn’t the same.
We used to be close, and he used to smile at me more often.
He will always tell me that I was the best and constantly bugged me for attention.
He once held my hand and jokingly announced to the world that we’d marry each other.
And though it was just a joke, my heart fluttered.
He, who understood me better than I understood myself.
The person that was there for me at my best and was with me at my worst.
That’s why I didn’t understand.
Why did he suddenly grew cold?
Our relationship, which I thought would last, suddenly dissipated.
I tried so hard, so damn hard to clutch the string that connected us, but my efforts were wasted.
He, who was my shelter, and my rock, found someone new he found someone better.
And so I buried myself in composing.
I poured my heart into every song I wrote.
Each work was a love letter wrapped in melodies, a confession was hidden in every verse.
I didn’t just write them, I lived them, hoping maybe he’d hear the words I couldn’t say out loud.
I wouldn’t say I liked it.
In fact, it hurts. I felt like I'm bleeding with every note.
But what else can I do?
I had to let it out somehow, even if he was the one who walked away.
He cut me off, left me standing in the silence of everything I wanted to say but never could.
And now, all I have left are these songs, these pieces of a love that never got the chance to be heard.
I was reminiscing about our past, losing myself in a carefree world full of nothing but memories and delusion.
“Justine, I’ll be going out tonight, most of the kids are already asleep”, a person knocked on the door of my studio.
“Okay,” I replied. Where are you going, Sean? What place is so crucial that you’ll go there in the middle of the night?
Ah. I forgot. There is that place.
Do you know Sean? When Jaxon came into the picture, it was okay. Because no matter how I see it, it was platonic. Even though it hurts, it doesn’t hurt as much because I know that a relationship between you and him will never progress further than friends.
But he is different.
I was called a genius composer by my fans, but compared to him? I’m just a speck in the dust. He was hailed as a king, and there’s me—a simple guy who can compose but could never be as great.
Fans always love to compare us. They said that we looked like each other. They say we’re both excellent composers. They say we’re both “savage and unbothered kings.” But I don’t want to delude myself any longer.
He was better than me in any aspect.
He was way more popular. He was richer, he’s kinder, he’s sweeter, and he has everything I don’t.
Do we look like each other? We may have a few similar features, but no matter what angle you see it, his face is much better than mine.
He’s baby-faced but mature-looking at the same time. He may not be comparable to the visuals of every group, but he is also one of the most good-looking individuals in this world.
Are we both genius composers? Even though I’m the lead composer of Performing Dolls, I can’t make hits like he does.
His hands are sculpted to play the piano perfectly. His mind is made of music itself.
His lyrics are better—more relatable, more remarkable than I’ll ever write.
His songs are like magic, as if he sees right through you.
I admit defeat.
My songs are nothing compared to his. He’s a producer in a league of his own.
Are we both savages? That’s just a facade. He has the kindest, softest, purest heart that you can’t find anything negative in it.
He’s like an angel that descended from heaven.
And then there’s me; I’m just cold. I may be friendly and kind on the inside, but I have difficulty showing that on the outside.
And although we might be the same, we are still so different.
Dewi Mccrudden is different.
