#I have literally been on the same drug for 21 years

[redsray]

i have recently been brainrotting about a batkids racing au. all of them have either shitty home-lives or have had their home-lives taken away and all turn to the concepts of semi-legal street racing as an outlet. in the process, they meet people perhaps in the same boat-- perhaps a family.

Dick

around 21, has been racing since he was 15

likes riding smaller cars. the tighter fit the better. if it's not sleek and swervy he doesn't want it.

had caring parents who he travelled the world with by car, but they died in a car crash when he was 11. due to lack of living relatives, he was in the foster system for 4 years before Barry (Allen) took him in. he never saw Barry as a father, however, and was never officially adopted. basically Wally's roommate and Bart's older brother figure in a way.

Wally introduced him to the street racing world, and despite being very very reluctant at first (car crash trauma), Wally showed him all the good parts of it and he's loved it ever since

experienced racer, everyone there loves him and he's well known as one of the top racers

Jason

20, been racing since 17

he generally prefers driving motorcycles but make no mistake he will shred you no matter what racing vehicle you give him (he's competitive.) in terms of street/car racing he will go for anything with powerful acceleration.

his dad was a mechanic and Jason would sometimes help him out with car repairs when he was younger, although his dad would sometimes drop a bit too much workload on him and not really care for his well-being

mom was a recovering drug addict, cared for Jay but couldn't be around much due to both rehab and hospital visits

his dad was later arrested for underground drug dealing, dying in prison and his mom died of overdose. at 13, he was in the foster system for more or less a year before he ran, living on the streets for 3 more years, doing odd jobs.

at 16, he met Roy, who later (at 17) introduced him to street racing. Jason always had a knack for cars and with his natural talent he won quite a few of his first races, earning money from the betting pools and has been basically splitting rent and crashing with Roy ever since.

absolute MENACE of a racer. showed up at some point and basically showed most people up. can and will judge your car model. might steal your tires for the funsies.

Tim

18, new to the racing scene (been racing since 17) but knows A LOT about it through his own love for motorsports (he definitely has car posters in his room)

will drive any car. literally. he will just love it if you give him a car. in fact, give him a broken one so that he can make it BETTER than everyone else's.

lovely and wealthy parents, but they aren't around much. they honestly try their best, but when you're an only child in a big house it can get boring and lonely. he loves his parents and his mom was the one who first showed him motorsports when she was working on a business deal with a motorsport company (Tim got his first free car poster that day)

definitely takes pictures of cool cars he sees

as soon as he found out about the street racing ring in Gotham he immediately snuck in (age 15)

he would come practically every night he could and made friends with the younger racers (bart, cassie, kon) (they 100% would go to him for geeky car tech tips)

one time bart was sick for a race and cassie and kon asked tim to step in for him on the team, tim did-- he performed so naturally well that he caught the attention of other racers, decided to stay with the YJ team permanently

commonly referred to as a rising star, a prodigy in the racing scene

Damian

15, literally raised into motorsports. god knows when he drove his first car. he started officially racing in the street ring only recently, but already has a reputation as one of the best

preference for aerodynamic cars. the sleeker the better for him.

commonly underestimated by new racers

bruce is still his bio dad, he literally funds most the betting pools and co-runs the street racing ring under the guise of a totally normal auto repair store

hella competitive, will do everything to outshine you especially if you look down on him

LOVES painting on his car. like everyone customises theirs to a certain point but Damian will sit there for hours just painting on it.

does NOT care for the betting pools, if he wins he will just put all the money right back in. he just wants to win and beat you LMAO

#tim drake #batfam #batman #dc comics #jason todd #damian wayne #dick grayson #rays racing bats au #hehe #they are SO COMPETITIVE in this one its insane #dick when he sees jay and tim mop the floor with everyone js like he did: #im keeping 'em. #jay seeing tim fix a car: #my apprentice now

[mueritos]

As someone who’s been through multiple therapists and psychs, you’re super not wrong about these people bringing their biases to the table. I’m lucky enough that I

1. Was an older teenager

2. Had friends who had had decent mental health help already

3. Already kinda suspected the shapes of what was “wrong with me” and

4. Had an innate sense of “no that seems like bullshit” before I went in with these people.

The first therapist I ever saw met me as a 17 year old alt girl, and when I tried to talk to her about thinking I had anxiety issues she cut me off before I was done explaining and told me I was self diagnosing, that was causing my problem, and we wouldn’t “entertain THAT” any further.

The second therapist I ever saw met me as a 18 year old trans guy, pre-everything, during the pandemic. She listened, but she had no experience with the trans community and I had to teach her everything about anything I wanted to talk about with regards to that. She was nice, but she couldn’t help me. She didn’t know how.

The third therapist I ever saw met me as a 21 year old young man. She figured I had everything sorted out already. I didn’t. She never tried to change her mind or delve deeper. At this point I couldn’t afford to waste my time, so I asked to be recommended to a psych and she said sure. After that we didn’t talk.

The first psych I went to was very kind, and absolutely did not do his due diligence. I came in with a shiny recommendation from a therapist (that he didn’t verify), so he all but handed me the medication with no explanation and I only ever spoke to him over the phone after that. It was a low barrier to entry but the medication wasn’t right and I didn’t know I had other options. He made it seem like I didn’t.

The psych I’m seeing now put me on a medication that reacted poorly with my inhaler because she didn’t cross check if they would be any drug interactions. I came back and asked for a different medication. She was going to put me on a different one, and then I asked her to check if there were any interactions with this one. Turns out there were severe ones. I ended up going with a different medication, it seems to be working. It would probably work better with help from a therapist, but I don’t have the time or money for that right now. And quite frankly I’m tired of trying to convince people to help me when I have to explain what I think is wrong with me for them to listen. Only for them to decide that I’ve already figured it all out and they don’t need to try.

So uh. Yeah. Lots and lots of stories from me and my friends about clinicians of all age and experience ranges that go from horror stories to just disappointing and unhelpful. Some of these people had been practicing for 20-30 years and they STILL weren’t any better at empathy or not being horribly biased.

first of all holy shit it really fucking sucks you had to go through all of these terrible experiences while accessing care you deserve and need. i'm not surprised these terrible interactions happened, and I can't even be disappointed considering the bar of standards is in hell. The "better" experiences a lot of folks have with clinicians align with your second therapist. They are clinicians who just genuinely have no worldview outside of their own, but are receptive to new information...they just have no drive to learn how to apply new frameworks of ways of thinking to expand their worldview and guide their clients. The worst is literal malpractice, ableism, and violence against clients.

a lot of people who go into the mental health field don't actually have the skills related to active listening, empathy, or curiosity based out of humanity. I say this to a lot of people in the social work program, but social work is the same pipeline as mean girls who go into nursing--it's just full of the girls who were not smart enough to go into nursing that decide to go into social work. Same breed of mean girl seeking power over others, just different contexts of public service.

the only hope i have is in the new generations of mental health clinicians who are BIPOC/queer, anti-carceral, disabled themselves, and who are mentally ill as well. I feel more solidarity with my neurodivergent peers in my program who can barely finish an assignment on time than I do with the white women who have never experience hardship in their lives. Not to say neither of these people can't experience easy or hard times in their lives but man....seeing the roadblocks in some of these people's worldviews, empathy, or conceptualizations of other people's struggles is fucked up.

the mental health field is just another medicalized, over-policed, and racist institution that wants to shove people back into the workforce ASAP. we are in hell!! but just know there ARE people and groups and orgs out there that are dedicated to radical work and will name all the hypocrisy, pain, and oppression that exists in working in this field.

thank you tho for sharing your experience and input. I can only hope that your experiences moving forward are positive and liberating for you <3

#muertoresponds #like brother we are in hell! #my last therapist is a zionist so yea we are literally in hell #there are really cool and awesome clinicians out there tho #it feels so freeing to openly talk about palestine with my therapist and shes like yea fuck zionists! #there are people out there dedicated to being safe and radical people #godspeed to anyone else in the social work field or who is training to be one #im trying to get my degree my license (maybe) and just fuck off #i only want to work independently or in higher ed

[rrxnjun]

I'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes I am) ;; lyy

pairing: liu yangyang x fem!reader starring: singer! lee jeno, drummer! wong hendery, bassist! zhong chenle, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, na jaemin, mark lee, aeri uchinaga genre: band au, guitar teacher au, strangers to friends to not-really-lovers, college au | angst, fluff, slice of life, coming of age wc: 20k (20.481) warnings: the main characters smoke, one mention of drugs, swearing, alcohol, the whole thing is kind of corny, jeno is a bad guy, a mention of sexual intercourse, a lot of pining, unrequited love tagging: @jaynaur bc she asked me to and also because i want to thank her for the support and excitement she shared for this fic<3 playlist: funeral grey - waterparks ; the only exception - paramore ; tantrum - waterparks ; 21 questions - waterparks ; sex sells - lovejoy ; freaks - surf course ; it follows - waterparks ; gloom boys - waterparks ; perfume - lovejoy ; high definition - waterparks ; i'm not angry anymore - paramore

living the rockstar life is not as easy and exciting as it seems-with a frontman that cares more about clubbing than the band, unrequited love for the girl that's, sadly, in love with the said frontman and a huge inferiority complex, liu yangyang finds himself tangled up in the mess of being the guitarist of the next rising local punk band.

FLOAT MY WAY, I’M MELTING FOR YOU

“Are you sure they’re coming?” Yangyang asks, illuminated by the subtle light of the lamp post shining at the end of the neighbourhood. The spot he’s standing in right now is the exact border between the calm, sleeping streets of the place he grew up in, and the rowdy nightlife of the centre of the town. Only a few steps across the road and he’s in the middle of it all– bars scattered all across the corners of the town square, havoc caused by teenagers at the early stages of the evening erupting through your eardrums with a lively sense of freedom. 

Liu Yangyang is standing at the border, quite metaphorically, but also quite literally as well. A few steps back into his neighbourhood and he’s back in his parents’ house, ready to go to sleep and waste another evening watching a few more episodes of Netflix Unsolved Mysteries before bed. A few steps back into his bed and he wasted another day of his youth– doing nothing, meeting no new people, having no memories he can tell to his children once he’s 45 and too old for the party life. A few steps to the other side of the street, though, and he’s walking straight to the excitement, straight to a new life, perhaps. The choice is his, and he could turn either way at any moment. There’s only one thing keeping him from walking away from the stoic place at the edge of the neighbourhood, though, and that’s his best friend Huang Renjun and his promising offer. 

The thing is, he and Renjun have known each other since middle school. They’ve been through thick and thin together, skipping through their high school years together, and finally, graduating on the same day, in the same class. They’re quite the best friends, and everyone knows that. While everyone thought that no one could ever break these two apart, there was one thing that wasn’t a constant in both of their lives, and that was the fact that while Renjun went to university, Yangyang never even applied. He had bigger dreams, ones that didn’t require a degree, and even though his mother wasn’t happy with his life choices, he insisted on making them anyway. 

But with Renjun attending university, there comes a bigger issue that Liu Yangyang didn’t expect to face, and that is the issue of his introverted, short bestie being more sociable than he ever was in high school. Soon enough, the older one had more university friends than Yangyang could count on the fingers of one hand, and while he was happy for him, cheering him on with both his studies and his social skills, he can’t lie, he still feels a bit threatened in the place of Huang Renjun’s best friend.

And that’s exactly why he’s now standing in the same spot at the edge of the neighbourhood for the last 25 minutes– Renjun is going out with all his university friends, and being the nice and considerate pal he is, he invited Yangyang to come with him. And Yangyang, known to have a big fear of missing out mixed with a hint of jealousy whenever his friend had more fun with other people that weren’t him, couldn’t find any other answer in him than to agree and head out with him.

���Of course they are coming! Just… let’s wait for a little more-” the boy cuts himself off when he hears a loud yell somewhere in the distance, making him turn his head around and stare into the space, looking for the source of it, because he’s very familiar with the tones of the voice and the ruckus that’s following each and every one of his friends’ step. 

There’s a group of five that arrive, diverse and interesting to look at. Yangyang assumes he’d be intimidated by them if he was to walk past them in the mall, but when he thinks again, he feels like that in this very moment as well– their gazes are sharp and every person looks like cut-out from a magazine or a coming-of-age movie he’d watch with Renjun when they were fifteen and figuring everything out. 

Looking at the small crowd, Yangyang wonders how Renjun even managed to be friends with them. They don’t seem like the kind that would be easy to approach, and they for sure don’t seem like they share interests with the young male. When he looks at the fairly tall man wearing a leather jacket that came towards the two of them first, it doesn’t seem like he enjoys art or reading in the quiet of his room at dawn like Renjun does. The other one, even taller and more muscular, seems like he enjoys racing more than he enjoys going to university, and so do the other ones– each one of the crowd is unique, but more intimidating than the other. 

Or maybe Yangyang just isn’t used to making friends anymore. Who knows.

“Hi! You must be Yangyang!” one of them announces, smiling and cheerful. His smile makes the ice break, the panic Yangyang felt on his insides stalling for just a minute, before he nods and smiles at him.

“Yeah, it’s me. And you are…?” he trails off, eager to hear the person’s introduction. There’s still faint hesitance in every move he makes, but he figures that he might as well start speaking to the little crowd soon, or he might embarrass himself in front of the cool university kids, and he really doesn’t want that. Three guys and two girls– must be easy. Let’s get it over with.

“Na Jaemin! It’s nice meeting you,” he says, politely smiling at him again and turning around, looking at the rest of the group. The seven of them start walking, the destination not known to the boy, but he follows them nonetheless, okay with not even knowing the rest of their names yet.

“I heard a lot about you,” Jaemin snickers, “Renjun can’t stop mentioning you in conversations. Every time us two are in a Chemistry class, he can’t stop chuckling and saying how you would absolutely despise it.”

Laughing, Yangyang nods. “That’s probably why I didn’t go to university.”

“Good. I regret going, but oh well…” Jaemin shrugs, already getting more comfortable with the conversation. “Anyways, since the rest of the group is totally unhinged and didn’t introduce themselves, I’ll be the nice guy and do it for them,” he grins, pointing to the guy that approached him and Renjun at first, “that is Hyuck. I promise he’s less intimidating than he looks, he just really desperately wants to be cool.”

“Got it,” Yangyang laughs airly, nodding.

“There next to him is Renjun, but I figure you know him… That bloke behind him is Lee Jeno. He’s what Hyuck desires to be, but isn’t. Next to him we have our ladies– to the left, Aeri, and hanging off his right shoulder, finally, Y/N.”

Grateful for the friendly introduction, Yangyang nods with a smile. “Great. Any idea where we’re going?”

Jaemin shrugs, pointing to the convenience store that’s magically appearing in front of them. “My best guess would be there, and then we head off to the skate ramp. It’s empty at this hour of the day, and there's plenty of room for all of us there.”

Yangyang tries his best to pay attention to everything that’s going on around him on his way in and out of the convenience store. He bought himself some Gatorade and Pringles, tagging along with Renjun and Jaemin, yet, he can’t help but ask himself why the rest of the group hasn’t paid any attention to his presence. Perhaps he’s too invisible– not interesting enough to spark a conversation with them, not cool enough to hang out with the rest of the group. 

He’s not quite sure if it’s the insecurities getting to him, or if he’s just right about his assumptions. Sometimes, it’s better to not know, though– reality might make him more hurt in the long run.

Finally getting to the skate park, Yangyang makes sure to stay close to the only people he knows how to talk to. Offering chips to Jaemin and Renjun, he manages to listen to the conversation just enough to know that Hyuck and Jeno are talking about some concert they’re going to over the weekend and that Aeri and you are talking about the project that’s due on Tuesday. Quite normal topics for teenagers to talk about, he thinks– the intimidation seeping off them must be a facade, or maybe his lack of judgement. Maybe he should reach out first and talk to someone, he thinks, but as soon as this thought creeps into his mind, it’s taken out of his head when a girl walks into his point of vision and offers him chewing gum. 

Seeing him turning the offer down with a smile, you shrug at him and kick the rocks under your feet. “You’re Yangyang, right?” 

For the second time that night, he finds himself nodding. The whole scenario looks like it’s cut-out  from a teenage drama, the scenery reminding him of an Avril Lavigne music video that he spent his childhood watching religiously. “Yeah.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, offering him a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies, wanting to be as polite and as approachable as possible.

Looking at you, he finds himself getting intimidated again. He feels like a kid hanging out with upperclassmen in high school– like someone who’s desperately trying to fit in and be mature about everything, waiting anxiously to be made fun of by the cooler kids around. You’re wearing dark clothing, long black pants and a grey hoodie thrown over your upper body, even though the heat of the summer makes Yangyang sweat in every crevice of his adulting figure. You look bold, not in your appearance, but in your aura– and something about you is dangerously pulling him in, leaving him wanting to get to know you better.

You only hum, seating yourself next to him on the tiny bench. Your thighs are touching as you stretch your legs in front of you, leaning back and supporting your body with your hands pressed into the surface you’re sitting on. “So, Yangyang,” you start, “what do you do in your spare time?”

Surprised by your question, and also acknowledging the way his name rolls off your tongue in a way he likes it the best, he shrugs. What does one reply to a stranger asking about their interests? It sounds like a trick question, when in reality, it truly isn’t. There are no wrong or right answers, yet, Yangyang feels like if he doesn’t choose the right one, he failed, and he can no longer hang out with Renjun’s friends and see you ever again.

“Oh,” he hums, “well, I used to babysit, but I realised that I swear too much to be around children,” he replies, earning himself a chuckle from your side.

“I asked what you do in your spare time, not what you used to do for work,” you repeat, catching the boy off-guard with your insistence. 

“I- well-” he stutters, suddenly ashamed of each and every interest he has, for he thinks they’re not cool enough, or that they’re not interesting enough to mention to someone like you. Short in time, with his imagination not as good to think of something unique, he spills the truth. “I like music, I guess? I play the guitar and I’m actually teaching guitar lessons to get some money so I can start a band one day, or something…” he explains, bashful.

He feels the heat slowly arriving to his cheeks, a pinch of shame behind his teenage dreams, when he’s met with a hum and a pleased tone of your voice when you reply.

“That’s cool,” you say, “Jeno has a band, actually, but they’re kind of shit,” you giggle. “I bet yours would be better, when you’re good enough to teach guitar, you know.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…” he mutters, not wanting to offend anyone.

“Jeno’s in uni as well, so he can’t really focus on music. You gotta show me how you play one day,” you say, the lightness in your tone making him feel like he’s imagining everything. He wasn’t expecting this outcome, and he for sure didn’t think you wouldn’t find him embarrassing. With your proposition to show you how he plays, even though it might be just a nice gesture from a stranger, he feels on cloud 9.

“And what do you like doing?” he asks, eager to get to know you better.

Shrugging, you point your gaze towards your shoes. “I dunno. I like art,” you say, reminding him of his best friend. Perhaps you’re the one that attends the art class with him, perhaps you’re the one he met first before he was introduced to the rest of the group. In the light-hearted conversation, Yangyang doesn’t find you as intimidating as before, but looks at you as rather approachable, the least scary of them all.

“Well, if I gotta show you how I play, you gotta show me your art sometimes, then,” he says, throwing the ball back to your side of the court. Smiling at his proposition, you only nod as you search the pockets of your jacket, seemingly looking for something.

“Sure,” you say. Yangyang dares to say he hears a spark of interest in you, a glint in your tone from the way your conversation went. He doesn’t want the moment to disappear, desperately needing you to find him cool, to be his friend, because you interest him so much– but at the same time, he fears that with one bad move, he might ruin everything. Talking with you felt like walking on a shattered glass, just waiting to get pricked by the sharp pieces scattered all over the floor.

When you finally find what you’ve been looking for– a pack of cigarettes and a lighter– you open the box and take out one of them, slipping it in between your lips. “Do you want one?” you ask, offering him the box.

Now, Yangyang wants to fit in– of course he does– but at the same time, he has his boundaries. Shaking his head in disapproval, he smiles at you with tight lips. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Shrugging, you light the cigarette and breathe in the nicotine, letting the smoke captivate your lungs. Blowing out a steady stream of greyish clouds, Yangyang watches you with fascination. He won’t go as far as saying he found you attractive like that– you were still damaging your health– but in his mind, he can’t imagine you without that pack of cigarettes in your hand and without the smoke blowing out of your lungs. It’s like you were completed by that small addictive box, like you two fit together, even though he wishes you didn’t have to. He likes you like that, though, he figures– he might need to throw it all just onto the aesthetics, though.

“That shit’s gonna kill you,” he mumbles, seeing you peek out at him from under your eyelashes. 

Smiling, you lean into him, your face dangerously close to someone who you just met a few minutes ago, he feels like he’s melting under your gaze. Shrugging, you blow the smoke into his face, white clouds floating his way in slow motion, a snicker escaping your lips before you move to your initial place, once again putting the cigarette between your plump lips and inhaling.

“Well, now you gotta die too.”

Looking at you, trying to come up with a better comeback, desperately needing to find out when he’s gotten so smitten with you, when you’ve engraved himself into his mind; trying to get you out and forget about you, he finds out, although a little shamefully,

that he’s willing to let you be his best mistake that he’s ever going to make.

AND I’M ON MY WAY TO BELIEVING 

Running his hand through his hair, he stops at the doorway of one of the houses in his neighbourhood. It’s only three streets away from his home, and he’s sure his mother would know who lives there, if he managed to ask before leaving, but to him, the people he’s going to meet are a mystery for now. Sighing heavily, he notes that he should get a haircut, since the hair he managed to push out of his face is now back in his eyes, prickling his eyeballs in the most annoying way possible, before he rings the doorbell and waits for someone to open the door for him.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, the clock reads 4:25pm– he’s 5 minutes early, just to be sure– and he’s going to one of his paid guitar lessons. 

Usually, he has fun in these. Mothers all across the town reply to his insert that he posted on Facebook Marketplace, and some grandmas even send him letters, replying to the advertisement they saw in the local newspaper. The kids he teaches are almost always very polite and easy to work with. 

When he arrives, he asks them what they know already, and he progresses from there. He’s not trying to act like he’s a licenced music teacher, because he’s not– everything he knows is all self-taught anyway, from watching youtube videos and playing the same songs with the same simple chords over and over again, desperately wanting to get his favourite songs right, until he progressed up to the point when there’s pretty much no song he couldn’t play after hearing it a few times and taking a look at the chords online. To the local neighbourhood kids, that’s enough– he’s an affordable teacher, and much more approachable one than the elderly men Yangyang’s parents wanted to hire when he was a kid. He refused back then, and he can’t say he regrets it.

Waiting at the doorway, he wonders who will wait for him behind the dark-wooded entrance. Perhaps a little boy– these are always the easiest to work with. They choose the rock, sometimes punk songs they heard on the radio or saw randomly pop out on the recommended page on youtube. Yangyang is happy with that, because that’s what he’s familiar with anyway. It brings him joy to see their faces light up when they get the chords right and when the strumming is similar to the one in the original song, and when he sings along, although a little silly, they even laugh at him and show gratitude with gummy smiles. 

He won’t lie. He likes his job. 

When the door finally opens, his eyes catch the sock-clothed feet of the person behind it. Eyes going up, noticing that the figure in front of him seems oddly familiar, his breathing catches in his throat and he feels his palms getting sweaty.

“Y/N?” he asks, a little taken aback.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, an expression you pull when you see another teenager in the mall with their parents, both of you shopping for groceries. It’s the awkward smile that says that you recognise their torture, for you are experiencing the same; that awkward smile that reads don’t laugh at me, because you’re in the same position. 

“Hello,” you greet, taking a step to the side so he can get inside. 

Yangyang freezes in his spot. His legs don’t move, too hesitant to enter the house you live in, and he suddenly regrets not asking his mum about the residents of this house before he left. Not that he would know that it’s you anyway, for his mum always provides him with the last name and the occupation of the parents, but at least a hint would be nice, perhaps a mention of a daughter his age, even; both of these would let him prepare for the rush of heat in his cheeks and the awkwardness in his visit. 

“Um…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “am I… am I in the right house?” he asks suddenly, embarrassment creeping into his veins. Mentally going back to the address in the text message he got three days ago, checking the house number only a few metres to the right of the front door, it’s as clear as daylight– he’s at the right place, at the right time. 

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows in confusion. “Will you get inside already, or are you going to stand there all day?”

Eyes wide, Yangyang nods hurriedly, finally stepping inside of the house. Taking off his shoes, making sure he takes his sweet time so he can calm his racing heart, he thinks of every possible thing he could say to you to make the whole encounter less awkward. Or is he the only one that feels awkward at this moment? Are you alright with everything that’s going on? You don’t even seem to be surprised, to be fair. Maybe you expected to see him at the door.

“So,” he starts as he finally straightens his back and meets eyes with you, “um… I came to teach guitar, so… where’s your sibling?” he asks, cracking his knuckles in the process.

“Sibling?” you repeat.

Feeling like he’s said something wrong, but continuing in his interrogation, Yangyang furrows his brows. “Yeah. To… teach guitar to?” he says, feeling more confused than ever.

“I don’t have a sibling,” you simply reply, spinning in your place and taking the stairs up, making Yangyang freeze in his spot in hesitance once again. This whole thing feels like a fever dream, and he doesn’t think he can wake up that soon. 

A few seconds pass in complete silence, the uncomfortness of it all making Yangyang’s ears ring, when footsteps march through the space and make him swing his head up, seeing you standing at the top of the stairs. “Are you coming? I thought I was paying you for teaching me the guitar, and not for standing around,” you mutter.

Teaching you the guitar? Now, every other person would comply and run upstairs, apologise for being all over the place, maybe even mumble a poor excuse of how they haven’t slept well and that’s why they’re not in their right place today. But this is Liu Yangyang– and you’re Y/N, the girl he met almost a week ago and hasn't been able to stop thinking about since. And that’s why Yangyang only simply stumbles over his own legs and drags himself upstairs, still trying to make his mind comprehend the whole situation and let himself process what’s happening. 

He appears in your room in a moment. The journey there has no memory in his brain, for he thinks he acted on auto-pilot, too lost in his thoughts. When the smell of you lingers all around him and punches him somewhere deep in his gut, that’s when he finally wakes up and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to.

The room looks just like he’d imagine it to look. It looks so, so definitely yours; with posters of bands hung all across the walls, stitched between with artwork and polaroid pictures, not one spot left empty in the whole room. The rug in the middle of the space is white and fluffy, the long bristles reminding him of the dog he used to have when he was a kid. There’s not much furniture in your room, and it’s also fairly small, but there’s everything a university student would need in a room at their parents’ house: a big bed, a closet, a bookshelf filled with literature and a desk that’s a little too messy, but still looks oddly organised. The last detail that completes the aroma of you in the room is the easel set in the corner of the room, right next to the guitar stand, like a little pair of necessities that belong together, never to be seperated.

He finds you sitting on the bed, the black acoustic guitar already nestled in your lap, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. The look you give him is unreadable– or he doesn’t know you well enough to read in your expressions yet. Taking a mental note of the urge to get to know you enough to know what you want to say even from a simple look thrown his way, he sits next to you and clears his throat. 

“Shall we start, then?” he asks, hearing you snicker.

“I’m waiting until you finally get a grip, you know,” you say, “I’m ready when you are.”

Your words make him feel the heatness in his cheeks again, embarrassment a familiar emotion to feel whenever he’s in your presence. He once again recognises that he feels strangely intimidated by you in this setting, suddenly scared that he forgot all the chords and he doesn’t know how to play anymore, even though the thought of that is ridiculous and unbelievable, since before, he was sure he could play Smells like teen spirit even in his sleep.

“Okay, so…” he starts, “let’s start with what you already know, and then we can progress from there, I guess?” he chooses the tactic he always does when he teaches the neighbourhood kids, but at this moment, everything about the guitar lesson is making him unsure in his skills. This is the first time he’s working with someone his age, and to find you being the one replying to his insert, it makes it all even harder for him.

“I mean… I know the basic chords, but that’s about it,” you shrug, averting your eyes off him. 

This is the first time Yangyang notices you shying away from his glance. He doesn’t dare to pin much importance to it, for he thinks it must be nothing, but something deep inside of him makes an assumption already and the air is suddenly lighter to breathe for him. He’s in charge now– he’s the one that knows everything, and you’re the one that wants to listen to him and learn from him. He’s not about power dynamics at all, since it would feel strange to pay importance to that, but suddenly, he no longer feels like he’s less from you, but rather on the same level, only a little more skilled, and that makes him feel more sure in his conversation and more strong in his moves.

“Okay, great,” he muses, “that’s a good start. Do you have a particular song that you would like to learn how to play? That’s usually the best way to learn, I think,” he suggests, glancing at you with curious eyes.

If he tried hard enough, he could maybe make out the song you’d choose by looking around your room and paying more attention to the posters on your walls. He’s quite sure he’ll be familiar with it, your music taste overlapping with his, although there are a few bands he’s not familiar with on the pictures on your walls and he suddenly wants to ask you all about them and let you recommend your favourite songs to him. He’d listen to them all afternoon, making sure to get every detail and search for everything that makes you enjoy them so much, trying to get to know you through your favourite melodies. He knows it’s too soon for a step like that, but he makes sure to keep it in his mind for later, when you two are closer; if that moment ever comes, of course.

“Hmm,” you hum. Suddenly, you stand up with the guitar still in your right hand, searching for something in the mess on your desk. There’s your phone in the grip of your left hand now, and with a few taps to the screen, you offer it to Yangyang, a site with the chords to the song you chose now shining on full display. “This one,” you mumble.

Now it’s your turn to look bashful. Yangyang notices the sudden shift in the atmosphere, liking how the awkwardness is suddenly out of his blood system but rather entering yours. Scrolling through the page, his eyes scan the chord progressions, nodding to himself as he recognises the tune, already playing in his head.

“Great! Let’s get to it, then,” he says.

Nodding, you stay glued in your place at the other end of the bed. Your guitar is still placed neatly on your right thigh, resting against it, waiting to be played. “Maybe try playing it so I can see what you need helping with?” 

The suggestion makes you nod, a nervous lick to your lips is made as you take the guitar pick into your right hand and nestle a little in your seat, trying to relax. Not wanting to make you more nervous, Yangyang makes himself not look at you while you play, resulting in letting his eyes roam all across your room, trying to remember the details just in case he’s never invited over ever again. 

You start playing in no time. Even a complete beginner could hear that you’re not used to the instrument yet– your strumming is inconsistent, the changing of chords slow and not all strings play when you press them– too weak for the note to ring. It’s okay, though; everyone starts somewhere and this was a good effort. The G chord is played wonderfully, as Yangyang recognises that this one in particular is not an issue amongst his students, but when you get to the D minor, Yangyang suddenly hears a sigh full of frustration as the strums don’t ring and you seemingly get a cramp into your left palm.

The melody, although a little chopped up and wonky, suddenly stops. You look over at your guitar teacher sitting to your right, trying to find help in him. 

“Your hand got cramped up?” he asks, voice full of consideration he uses when he teaches the small children. He let it slip unknowingly, but now that he recognised it, he prays you don’t make fun of him for the endearing tone of it.

“Yeah,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“I see,” he nods, shifting closer to you. He tries to be full of confidence, because then, it’s easier for him to mask the effect you have on him and the growing aspect of it the closer you physically are to him. Taking the guitar softly from your hold, he presses down the strings in the right order, three fingers used for the simple chord, strumming to let you hear the chord out loud. 

“What you’re doing wrong is keeping your thumb too far up on the back of the neck,” he says, showing you the way you were playing the chord before, “this way, you have to make more pressure to hold the strings down, and the uncomfortable position makes your hand cramp up. Try moving your thumb a little lower,” he explains, once again showing you.

You hum, taking the guitar back from his hold when he offers it to you. You try to hold the strings down in the way Yangyang’s shown you, but your fingers just won’t comply, too used to the way you were playing the chord before. Watching you with amusement, Yangyang chuckles to himself and unconsciously moves to you, reaching for your hand from behind, and manually moving your thumb closer to the bottom of the neck of the guitar. 

The contact of your skin on his burns him a little, even though he was the one that initiated it and touched you first, and he suddenly feels like a teenager once again, hating that the way he feels about you reminds him of the silly crushes he used to get on his classmates and never acted up on them in the fear of being rejected.

Moving back to his initial place, he sees you bite down on your lower lip as you strum down the strings, hearing the chord loud and clear, your hand in a way more comfortable position now. Humming again, perhaps in understatement, perhaps in satisfaction, you look up at Yangyang again, smiling a little. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. That’s what I’m paid for,” he snickers.

You roll your eyes at him, but your lips mirror a cunning smile. He teases you back with the words you used when he first arrived, making him wonder if you find him more fun now, when he’s relaxed. 

Sitting quietly, you try playing the song again, now a little more smoothly. Yangyang finds himself humming along, not daring to sing the lyrics just yet, since he’s not that eager to embarrass himself in front of you with his singing as he is when he teaches the kids. But when you look up at him and grin in amusement, he knows he did the right thing– the atmosphere is lighter now, the weight falling off his shoulders.

“You didn’t mention wanting guitar lessons when we last talked,” he says, going back in time just a week ago. 

“Yeah, well,” you stop playing, “I wasn’t really set on it back then yet.”

“I see,” he hums, “what made you change your mind, then?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you laugh to yourself. Putting the guitar down, between your bodies sprawled out on the bed, you fold your hands on your stomach. “If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh.”

Surprised by your request, for Yangyang thought there’s not anything in the whole world that could ever make you ashamed, he nods and agrees. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Squinting at him, as if to see if he’s truly honest with his promise, you breathe in heavily, getting ready to speak. “Well… remember how I told you that Jeno’s in a band?”

“Yeah,” he nods. How could he forget? That dude has everything Yangyang ever wished to be.

“So… his guitarist is kind of a dick,” you start, “he doesn’t go to practices, skips the gigs, shows up high sometimes… so Jeno wanted to kick him out and find someone better. And I kind of wanted to be the replacement, but…” you trail off, not daring to look at Yangyang in fear of hearing his laughter.

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to pay me for way more lessons to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” Yangyang notes, not trying to make fun of you– rather just tease you, to lighten up the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “you’re right. But maybe you could join them.”

“Me?”

“You said you wanted to have a band,” you mumble, shrugging, “this comes close, at least.”

Grinning to himself at the proposition, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. “You haven’t even heard me play. For all you know, I could be a total fraud.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes squinting in examination once again. “You’re right, dude,” you mutter to yourself, “play me something, then. I’ll be the judge if you’re the one suitable to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” you say, throwing his own words back at him, trying to act out his voice in a teasing manner.

Singing, Yangyang shakes his head at your proposition. You must believe him– otherwise, you wouldn’t have texted him to give you guitar lessons, after all. To fulfil the promise he’s given you back in the skate park, though, he takes the guitar laying between your bodies, straightening his back and sitting in a more comfortable position, he presses down the chords you so desperately wanted to learn just a few minutes ago, before you two got lost in the conversation.

A simple G, D minor, a C major 7. Repeating over and over, a strumming pattern so easy and comforting, it’s forever engraved into his brain. He remembers hearing the song for the first time when he was younger, too embarrassed to admit to Renjun that he likes it, since he was always posing as the emo kid in the town. The band might suit the genre, but the lyrics are as sweet as sugar, so romantic it makes his heart clench. 

Caught somewhere in between it all, in the midst of the moment, hearing you silently hum the lyrics to the song you’ve shown him, Yangyang foolishly finds himself dedicating the song to you. This is the second time you two have met, but your whole presence, the way you scrunch up your nose when you laugh, the way you are so genuine and straight-forward, with nothing to hide, he finds himself pulled towards you, wanting to know you deeper, desiring to explore every last crevice of your inside.

He never wanted to be in someone else’s band. He always wanted his own, so he can be in charge of everything, so he can be the leader everyone follows. But if being in Jeno’s band meant meeting you more often, he figures he could try it out. Who knows, he might even like it.

He’s never tried so hard for a girl before. He never really had the urge. Spending his days with blissful carelessness, wasting away his youth by doing nothing, he never really found anyone to yearn for as hard. He swore he was content with loneliness, but perhaps, no one before was ever worth the risk.

Just like in the song he’s playing, you are the only exception.

SO EXCUSE MY TANTRUM, CAN’T YOU SEE I’VE GOT MY HANDS FULL?

Leg nervously bumping up and down, Yangyang chews on his bottom lip as the buildings behind the windows of the car blur into themselves and motion him forward. Hearing a low beep coming from his lap, where he threw his phone after aimlessly checking Instagram for the seventh time today, he reaches for the device and unlocks it.

y/n: are you close yet

Looking around, trying to find out where the hell he’s even going, he turns to his best friend on the driver’s seat. “Are we close?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Renjun mumbles, turning on the left blinker and taking a turn towards that direction, pulling up to a street Yangyang’s never seen before in his whole life. 

“Y/N,” he answers, checking all the houses, as if to try to see if you show up at the doorstep of one of them, awaiting their arrival. 

“We’re quite literally 15 metres away from Jeno’s house,” Renjun mutters, turning down the music playing on the radio. Yangyang hums in understatement, quickly looking back over to his phone and typing a swift reply.

yangyang: we’re here 

As the car comes to a halt, parking at the edge of the sidewalk in front of one of the houses on the street– each and every single one of them looking the same, with white walls and a brown roof, creating a homely atmosphere– Yangyang finds his nerves rise even more. It’s not like he’s meeting Renjun’s friends for the first time, after all, so he really doesn’t get the sudden rise in adrenaline. Sure, he only saw Jeno, Jaemin and Hyuck once, but at least him and you are pretty acquainted by now, considering that he gave you guitar lessons three more times since the last time, before he finally agreed on meeting Jeno and his bandmates for a band practice; just to see if he’s fit, nothing more.

Maybe he just really wants to impress everyone. The rest of the band is filled with strangers, so maybe that’s where his anxiety is coming from. 

He almost opens his mouth and tries to talk about it to Renjun, since the boy always gets his emotions and tries to help him calm down whenever his overthinking is getting too irrational, but when he jumps out of the car and closes the door behind him, there’s a screech coming from the small gate leading to the property, making his eyes drift towards the source of the sound. 

You wave at the two, standing in the open gate, a shining grin plastered onto your face. After Yangyang gets out his guitar from the backseat– the electric one, as you specified in your texts last night– you run up to him and envelope him in a quick, yet, comforting hug.

He didn’t realise you’ve gotten this close, but he welcomes the embrace with open arms. He catches a sniff of your perfume– a mix of roses and vanilla, sweet, but also light. It travels from his nose all the way up to his brain, numbing his senses. If this was the only smell he could feel until the end of his life, he wouldn’t complain.

“Finally! They’re all waiting for you in the garage,” you say, leading the pair towards the house. The gate to the garage is open, revealing a group of people clammered in the small space, leaving Yangyang at least some time to prepare for all of them.

Going up to the make-shift practice room in Lee Jeno’s garage, Yangyang puts on his best charming smile, hoping to seem at ease and not at all awkward. Adjusting the guitar in his hold, he comes up to the group and greets them with undeniable ease.

“Hello,” he says, watching Renjun as he fist-bumps the rest of his friend group and sitting at the old, orange couch in the corner of the garage.

“What’s up, man,” Jeno says as he comes up to him, once again, with a handshake. Yangyang begins to wonder why he always looks so cool– even when he’s wearing simple sweatpants and a Nirvana shirt enveloping his torso, he looks like he’s cut-out from a Rolling Stone magazine. He doesn’t even need that bloody leather jacket to look good. Life truly is unfair.

After greeting everyone, Yangyang finds himself awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. There wasn’t much space for him to sit, but that was okay– he was here to play the guitar anyway, he could stand. The garage was filled with people he knew, and also didn’t. It felt weird to have such a big audience. He felt like that time when he applied for the school’s talent show; he almost pulled out the minute he saw the tens of people sitting on the folding chairs in the school’s auditorium, waiting for him to begin playing. 

He recognised Jaemin– who warmly smiled at him when he went up to him and greeted him with a rehearsed fist bump– and he also recognised Hyuck, Jeno and you. There was a guy sitting in the corner of the room, who he was told was Mark and he was here to ‘hang out’, and the other two were Hendery and Chenle, the band’s drummer and bassist.

“Want some beer?” you ask, looking at him brightly from your spot next to him. He shakes his head in disapproval– he didn’t really like the taste of it, and much to everyone’s dismay, he was a light-weight and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of everyone sitting in the garage, watching him perform. 

Yangyang’s left feeling lonely even in the full room of people. It’s somehow alarming, but also understandable. He’s not close to any of the people here, except from Renjun, and he’s been with him for the last few hours, so it’s only natural for his friend to drift towards someone else now. Looking around the garage, he spots a sign in the corner of the room, a long, white fabric spray-painted with red. 

Chucky Tribute, it reads. Finding himself chuckling under his breath, you look over to him, raising your eyebrows to find out what he’s laughing about. Pointing towards the sign, you only roll your eyes with a grin.

“That’s the band’s name,” you whisper sincerely into his ear, “Jeno’s a fan of the Chucky movies.”

Upon hearing this, Yangyang already knows he signed up for a wild ride.

After some more catching up between Renjun and his friends, and some awkward conversation that sparked between Mark and Yangyang after he recognised the anime on his shirt, Jeno turns to him with the true reason for his visit today.

“Okay, so,” he starts, “we could try to play something together, so we can see if you’re the fit to be in the band,” he says. Something about his sentences makes Yangyang feel like he’s looked down upon– as if Jeno was the master of everything, not believing that someone like Yangyang could be good enough to be in his band, however small and underground it might be. Looking over at you in the corner of the room, seeing that you’re a regular at the band practices, gazing at him with a hopeful smile, he complies, though.

“Not that we have any doubts about you, though,” Chenle, the bassist chirps from the other side of the room, “our last guitarist was a stinker anyway, so there’s no way you could be worse than that, really.”

“What they’re trying to say, essentially, is that their standards are low in the first place, so there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Renjun teases from his spot next to Jaemin, earning a laugh and a playful bump to his shoulder from Hyuck sitting on his other side.

“Right,” Jeno rolls his eyes, trying to organise the whole evening at least a little, “anyway. Back to what I was saying… maybe you can try playing something and then we’ll see, I guess… I don’t really know how to go about this anyway,” he shrugs, watching Yangyang with curious eyes.

Yangyang feels his palms sweat, but he gets up from his spot nonetheless, getting his trusty, beloved guitar he got from his mother for Christmas out of its case and plugging it into the speaker. Strumming the strums a few times, as if to practice, he nervously clears his throat and points his gaze towards the neck of the guitar– even though he’s certain he could play it even if he went blind– just so he doesn’t have to look anyone in the eye.

Putting his fingers into their right places, he starts improvising. No one really told him what to play, so he assumes they don’t really want to hear any song in particular, so he doesn’t even try to imitate something or fish for chord progressions to anything in his mind in the first place. Moving fast across the guitar’s neck, he masters a melodic play, something he himself is kind of impressed with, something he doesn’t feel ashamed to play. He gets really into it, momentarily forgetting all about his surroundings, as he often does when he plays the guitar, when a low rhythm of drums flows into his ears and makes him look up, seeing Hendery grinning at him from his place behind the drumming kit.

Not a moment passes before Chenle gets to his bass guitar, completing the rhythmic section of the band. The melody flows through the walls of the garage, making Yangyang smile in joy, because only now does he truly feel in his element, when Jeno picks up another guitar and the whole make-shift symphony makes the audience cheer and yell in amazement.

When the players get tired and the song is done, Yangyang finds everyone clapping, making euphoria run through his veins. Perhaps this is what he was always destined to do– and even the slightest hint of the cheering of an audience, all because of his song, is like a gas fueling an engine, a spark that creates the fire in his soul. 

His eyes subconsciously find your figure, standing up from your seat. Your eyes light up and your lips are tugged into the brightest smile he’s ever seen on you, running up to him with much force, arms only dangling by your sides,

before you pass him and he finds himself turning around, watching you envelope Lee Jeno in a fierce embrace.

“That was so good! You did so well, oh my god!” you cheer.

The euphoria fades. Yangyang’s smile drops only a little.

I WISH THERE WAS A SITUATION TO BE MAD AT, OR A PERSON I COULD BLAME

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of your bed, strumming your guitar softly, the sun starts setting and the orange hue makes the features of your face soften. Your room turns into a quiet abode, only filled with the sound of the guitar, mindless chords blending together beautifully as Yangyang continues playing, staring at your face.

“You know you still have to pay me if you call this a guitar lesson, right?” he says, watching you as you lay on your bed, legs pressed against the wall and your head hanging off the edge of the mattrace.

“Yeah,” you reply, “it is a lesson, just so you know.”

“You haven’t picked up the guitar the whole time I’m here,” Yangyang notes, laughing.

“I’m practising listening today,” you mumble, looking at him with eyes squinted from your teasing grin. 

“Didn’t realise I was your personal jukebox.”

“Shut up and continue serenading me, won’t you?” 

Snickering at your comment, Yangyang continues to mindlessly strum the guitar, wondering how and when exactly he got into this situation. A few weeks ago, he didn’t even know about your existence, and now, he’s locked up with you in your bedroom multiple times a week, giving you guitar lessons and sharing small-talk with you when you invite him for dinner to your parents’ kitchen and feed him dry cereal instead.

He’s not confident enough to sing in front of you just yet, but humming the lyrics in his brain is enough for him in this situation, for they fit the whole scenery with a 100% accuracy; I think I've lost my mind/ blurring the fact and the fiction/whilst simultaneously fixing/myself up with a girl named Panadol.

“Have you ever written a song?” you ask suddenly, not once initiating eye contact with him as your head is still hung down the edge of the bed.

“Not really,” he replies, but if the two of us continue meeting this often, I might start, he thinks. “You?”

Humming, you take a few seconds before you reply to him. “I have.”

Your words surprise him, making him halt in his movements. “No shit,” he blurts out in awe, “show me!”

Awkwardly laughing to yourself, you finally plop yourself up on the bed and sit opposite of him, shaking your head in disapproval. “No. Not a chance.”

“Come on!” he insists. “You can’t expect me to not be curious about it, now that you mentioned it.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for me to show it to you,” you mumble, “not even Aeri knows about it.”

“We meet up multiple times a week, and since I’m your trusted guitar teacher, I think I deserve to hear your music progress,” Yangyang pouts, trying very desperately to get you to show him what you’ve written. 

“There’s no use in trying, you won’t convince me,” you laugh, set on your decision.

“What do I gotta do, then?” he snickers. “Play 21 questions with you?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “maybe I’ll show you after that.”

Knowing damn well that you won’t– because Yangyang knows that it’s not as easy to show someone you don’t know that well something that you treasure so close to your heart– he nods and sets the guitar aside, getting ready to play the stupid game with you, just so he can finally know more about you. Sure, he might just learn some trivia about you; things that barely matter in the bigger picture that is life, but he will get anything he can, because you’re basically his biggest interest in life at the moment, right behind music.

“Okay,” you nudge him with your foot, “shoot.”

“Why do I always gotta start?” he gasps, a little offended.

“Because!”

“Okay, alright,” he rolls his eyes, “what’s your favourite colour?”

Sighing at his generic question, you shrug and point towards your torso, hugged in a grey hoodie. Realising it’s the same one you were wearing when you two first met, Yangyang smiles a little, but resolves into teasing you again. “That’s not a colour, that’s a shade.”

“Don’t disagree with me,” you snap back, furrowing your brows. “It’s a colour.”

“It’s a shade of black, actually, so it can’t be your favourite colour-”

“Fuck, okay,” you roll your eyes at him again, irritated, “fine. When did you start playing the guitar?” you ask, changing the subject.

Searching through his mind for an answer, Yangyang hums, lost in thought. “I think I was like eleven, or something?” he says, sounding more unsure than in his final exams, when he forgot what the topic was about. 

“Eleven?” 

“Yeah. My mum got me my first guitar for my eleventh birthday. I kind of sucked, but I enjoyed it anyway,” he says, smiling to himself.

“When did you first want to be in a band?” you ask again.

“If you ask now, that means you’ve wasted another one of your questions and I can go twice in the row next time-”

“Just answer the damn question, Yang!” you curse at him, playfully hitting his knee.

“Jeez, alright,” he mutters, “chill out.”

“I can’t chill out if you take the rules of 21 questions this literally!” 

“Okay, okay!” he puts his hands up in a defending motion, grinning at the annoyance in your face. Something about pushing you over the edge, making you completely annoyed with his antics, makes a spark of joy illuminate his insides. It’s like he’s doing his job right– getting on your nerves, but still being the tiniest bit endearing with it. “It’s actually kind of funny, you know.”

“Is it?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “I was in surgery when I was like… nine? Maybe ten, I’m not entirely sure. And when I was in a coma, I had this dream where I was on the stage performing my most favourite song, and I had the best time ever. So that’s kind of when I decided that this is what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Looking at him with endearance, you laugh at his story. The noise makes Yangyang feel like he’s on cloud 9 again, the state of euphoria you bring him into once again swimming through his veins like he’s on drugs. 

“No way!” you giggle.

“I’m serious!” 

Laying on the bed, getting more and more comfortable in his presence, you plop your feet into Yangyang’s lap and rest your head in your crossed hands. The sight of you like this, making physical contact with him, comfy and snuggled up in the blanket, Yangyang almost makes his imagination run too far. It almost feels like he’s in your personal space, the only person you let in, it’s like he’s your boyfriend, sitting in your room and chatting about everything and nothing at all at the same time, just enjoying your time together.

“Your turn now,” you say,  waiting for his question.

Humming in response, he carelessly rests his hands on your ankles, finding their place there as if they were made to be there from the very start. “What is your song about?” 

“Yangyang.”

“What? I didn’t ask you to sing it to me, or to show it to me. I’m simply just asking about it, that’s different,” he explains, a voice of a know-it-all that always got on everyone’s nerves.

“Still! Can’t you ask something else, then? I’ll answer everything, but that.”

“Okay. What’s the name of the song?” he asks, grinning teasingly.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re not playing anymore-”

“Fine!” he stops you, tugging you back to your place by your ankles when you dare to move away, as if you wanted to escape him altogether. “I have another one.”

“I swear to god that if you mention my song again, I will physically-”

“When did you start liking Lee Jeno?” he asks.

Your voice cuts out, the whole moment freezes. He feels like he’s in a youtube video, put on pause, stood in the same motion, holding the same expression. In reality, he’s trying to stay stone cold, expression stale, so you don’t realise just how much he cares about your feelings towards the boy. 

You’re shocked, he can see it in your face. Maybe no one’s ever noticed before. Maybe he’s the first one; but the truth is, it’s not that difficult to see when you get so cheerful whenever he’s around, subtly touching him and sending compliments and light-hearted teasing his way whenever you get the chance. 

Or maybe it’s not that obvious at all. Maybe Liu Yangyang just pays too much attention to who’s the object of your interest.

Strange, isn’t it?

PILLOWS PRESSED UNDER YOUR KNEES

Grinning to himself, playing the last few notes of the song Jeno and his friends wrote a few months ago, Yangyang finds you sitting at the old couch in front of him, your phone pointed towards the little show. The video of him playing the guitar will soon hit your Instagram stories, and Yangyang will widely grin as he realises it’s him that you’re showing to the whole world on your social media, and not Lee Jeno, as one would expect.

Once the song is done and over, you clap with much excitement and Yangyang smiles at you. The band practice is now over and he moves to the guitar case he left next to you on the floor, hiding his guitar in it so it doesn’t get damaged.

“That was good,” Jeno says, sitting at the armchair in the far right of the garage, getting out a pack of cigarettes from somewhere and lighting one between his lips, “we’re gonna rock that show. It’s good you got the songs so fast, Yangyang, or else we would be fucked.”

“I’m a professional,” he shrugs with a grin, earning himself a laugh from Chenle. 

Sitting on the couch next to you, he finds himself enveloped in a weird sense of euphoria and excitement. In a week, he’ll be playing his first ever concert– Jeno said not a lot of people will attend, since they’re not known as much in the town, but it’s still something. A first step towards something, if you will. And Yangyang is happy with taking things slow this time around. Sure, he’d be happier if the band wasn’t called Chucky Tribute, and yes, admittedly, he’d be glad if the songs he played were his and the lyrics were more thought-out and not as surface-level as they are, but he’s happy with what he’s got. Better than nothing, right?

“I better head home soon,” Yangyang mumbles, standing up from his spot on the orange couch. Being around all those people without Renjun still feels kind of awkward, but he concludes that he can work on it some other day. 

“We’ll just pack our things and go as well,” Hendery nods, “this was a good one, guys!”

“Man, I would do anything for a spicy McChicken right now,” you mutter, looking around at Jeno, “wanna order and watch Netflix?” you ask him, the question feeling like a knife in Yangyang’s back. 

The thing is, you two established that Jeno is the guy you like a few weeks ago, back in your room. Yangyang promised to himself that he’ll try to get over you, but it’s not as easy as it seems when you’re everywhere he goes; your presence is enough to make him like you even more and more, and that’s a fact that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

“Nah, I’m not really feeling it today,” Jeno mutters, not even meeting your eyes as he scrolls through his phone and takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall to the dirty floor.

“Oh,” you say, the hint of disappointment in your voice is too noticeable, breaking Yangyang’s heart a little. He wonders how Jeno could be so blind, and mentally curses at him for turning you down, because god knows that if he was in his place, he’d never say no to you. “ I- I better go as well, then…”

Paying your goodbyes to the rest of the band, Yangyang finds himself outside of Lee Jeno’s garage, hesitantly scratching his neck with the offer he’s about to propose. “Still up for that spicy McChicken?”

“Hm?” you hum in question, looking at him with big eyes.

“We can drive to Maccies together, if you wanna. I’m starving,” he proposes, seeing something behind your eyes shift– perhaps relief, or hope, from seeing that someone is still up for hanging out with you, even though you’ve been turned down from the object of your desire.

Kicking the rocks under your feet, you shrug. “I mean… I’m down, I guess.”

“Okay, sweet,” he nods, striding towards his little Volkswagen Golf that he got from his father when he decided to buy a new car, “let’s go.”

Your body drags itself into his white car, slumping into the passenger’s seat. The disappointment in you is still very much seen in the slouching of your shoulders and the frown that is ever-so delicately written into your face, but Yangyang makes it his quest to make you feel better. Turning the engine on and turning up the music in the radio, being quite satisfied with himself that he put the Paramore CD in before he left, he drives off Jeno’s driveway and strolls through the city, into the McDonald’s at the edge of the town. The one in the centre is closer, but that one doesn’t have a parking lot– that’s why he’s opting for the safer choice. 

When he finally gets there and parks in one of the vacant parking spots with much struggle, to be fair, since this was the part where he almost didn’t make his driving test when he was getting his licence, you follow him outside of the car, a little more stride in your step than before. When you get into the McDonald’s and find your place in the line of people wanting to order, Yangyang’s body situates itself right behind you, looking through the menu. He usually gets the chicken wrap, but just to be fancy, he will get it with fries and a coke today as well.

“One spicy McChicken,” you order, smiling at the cashier behind the pult. 

“Coming right at you. Anything else?” 

“No-”

“And one chicken wrap with fries. And two cokes, please,” Yangyang orders, catching a glimpse of your confused expression, “it’s on me,” he mentions, seeing you roll your eyes.

“You know, in any other circumstance, I don’t let men pay for me,” you say, “but I also could not care less today, so go ahead. I’ll pay next time,” you promise, seeing him get his card out and paying for your meal. 

Once the order is ready and you two take a seat in one of the ugly red booths in the corner of the room, you unwrap your burger and get right to it. Yangyang watches you with undeniable adoration. Everything about you is full of amazement for him– the way you manage to not get the sauce all over your face, the way you don’t bat an eye over the spice in the burger. He studies your face, grateful that you don’t look at him, but rather watch the world behind the window, making him not caught. 

“Want some fries?” he asks, offering you the pack and glancing at you. Turning your head to him, you sigh.

“I really wanna get over him, you know,” you start, putting the burger down and pulling at your hair in frustration, “I hate that I’m still so caught up with him. I despise it. But he’s so sweet, and he’s so charming, and I’ve known him since forever! It’s just so hard to let go of him, but I know that I should, because none of this is good for me in the first place…”

“I mean… that’s not what I was asking, but go ahead,” Yangyang mumbles, seeing you crumble in front of him, all frustrated and heartbroken because of his bandmate. 

“It would be easier for me to move on if he was a complete dick, you know,” you mutter, pouting a little from the sadness in your heart. The expression is kind of adorable in Yangyang’s eyes, but a little heartbreaking nonetheless, for he knows the frown is genuine and there’s nothing he can really do about it.

“Give it some time, Y/N,” Yangyang finds himself saying, “time heals everything. Don’t push yourself into anything, because that’s only gonna make you feel worse in the long run. Let yourself feel things, you know,” he shrugs, seeing you watching him with eyes big, resembling pools full of emotion he’s not even going to try to decipher.

Taking a bite from your burger, you smile at him with a full mouth, an expression that would look disgusting coming from anyone else, but you. “Wow,” you say, “didn’t think I’d get actual, useful advice from you, you know.”

Gasping, Yangyang acts hurt. “So you’re saying my advice is useless? Haven't heard you saying that when I teach you the guitar.”

“We could argue and say that that’s not really advice,” you grin, kicking his leg under the table, “but no, I’m serious. Thanks. I guess I really needed to hear that right now.”

Smiling at you, grateful that he was able to help you at least a bit, Yangyang offers you the fries again, watching you take one and plop it into your mouth. “I’m glad you understand me, though. Aeri doesn’t help much, since every time I talk about Jeno, she keeps bad-mouthing him and telling me how I’m blind if I like him that much. You should have heard her what she said when she found out that we-”

Raising his eyebrows at you in question, Yangyang hums. “You?”

“We…” you nervously laugh, trailing off.

“You what?” 

“I- well… Promise not to tell anyone? I wouldn’t be telling you this at all, but I already started and you seem like a person that I can trust with this, but please, swear to god that this will stay between you and I only,” you say, quite sincerely, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he nods, “what is it, then?”

“We… me and Jeno hooked up once,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek, eyes drifting away from Yangyang’s, “it… it was a while ago, after one of their shows back in July, and I thought it was getting somewhere after that, but Jeno… Jeno didn’t really seem like he wanted something more, so I just never talked about it with him after that.”

Blinking a few times at you, feeling like someone’s just suddenly unplugged his brain, leaving him with no power to gather his thoughts, he stays silent, trying to process everything. His blood goes cold and the food in his mouth suddenly tastes like dirt, his mood dropping instantly, for Lee Jeno had more of you than Yangyang ever will, and all of that while not caring for you near as much as he does.

“Don’t judge me,” you say, awkwardly laughing to yourself.

“I’m not judging.”

“Yes, you are, I can see it on your face!” 

“I’m not judging!” he insists, finishing the last bite of his chicken wrap. 

“What is it, then?” you push him, stomping your feet under your table. “Your face changed. You’re judging.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” he blurts out, “not you, though.”

Looking at Yangyang for a few seconds, your eyes soften. Pulling your lips into a tight line, an expression only vaguely reminding him of a smile, you nod and sigh in understatement. 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m getting over him.”

I DREAM OF YOU ALMOST EVERY NIGHT, HOPEFULLY, I WON’T WAKE UP THIS TIME

The drums ring all the way from his feet towards his heart, making it bump quicker and quicker as the rhythm changes and Hendery starts playing the opening melody of their last song of the night. Yangyang scans the crowd once more, trying to engrave it into his brain forever, trying to remember all the faces and all of their expressions, their outfits and haircuts, their lively smiles and cheers coming out of their mouths at each song they perform. This is the first time Yangyang is playing for a crowd that seems to be enjoying itself– he never knew that Chucky Tribute could have this many fans.

According to Chenle and Renjun, Jeno is kind of a big deal at their local university. He can only imagine that half of the crowd are his admirers; each girl in a prettier outfit than the other, screaming louder than the other in a non-spoken competition over his heart. 

The view of the crowd enjoying the music is a lovely one, for sure. But when Yangyang’s eyes finally land to the very middle of the crowd, the spot he was saving for last, he realises that the sight of you in the crowd, holding your hands high as you jump around to the familiar songs, occasionally taking a picture of the band or recording a short video, that this sight– the sight of you, is for sure his absolute favourite.

“Are you ready to jump? Let’s go!” Jeno cheers into the microphone, the whole crowd that is currently packed in one of the medium-sized bars in the centre of the town listening to him and doing as he pleases– going absolutely crazy, jumping around and screaming when the chorus hits and some of them recognise the lyrics. 

A doll with red hair lands on stage, thrown there by a grinning girl in the first row, making Jeno chuckle and take it from its spot on the floor. Yangyang soon realises it’s Chucky– Jeno’s most favourite fictional character, the one he named his band after. It’s kind of funny, the sight of the rockstar running around with the doll in his hands, screaming the lyrics to his song, and he almost lets out a loud laugh when the frontman gets to his new guitarist and makes the doll rest at his biceps, like a newborn baby. The crowd laughs at that, followed by a loud cheer, as they like the sight of their new guitarist and find it funny.

The sense of euphoria that comes with the last chorus is something Yangyang never knew he could feel. Lost in the music, enjoying the melody of a song he didn’t know a few weeks ago, he feels at home. He’s not good with crowds of people, for he always feels like he is watched and judged, examined by a microscope, but right now, he feels like he is in one unity with everyone present– music connects them all, no barriers left.

“Thank you so much everyone, this was Chucky Tribute! Make sure to stream our music on Spotify and Soundcloud, we’ll see you again soon!” Jeno says, moving to the edge of the podum and bowing, leaving the band to follow his lead and wave at everyone as the group leaves the stage.

Running off the stage, still grinning, Yangyang chugs some water in the backroom and once again, packs his guitar. If anyone would see him right now, they’d surely think he won a lottery or something, with how cheerful and genuinely happy the boy looks. 

“The best part of playing at bars is the thing that comes after,” Jeno laughs, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion.

“Now, we party,” Hendery concludes, shooting a serious look at the newbie. 

Once they’ve wiped their sweat off and drank some more water, the small group is heading towards the door to the bar. Now, Yangyang is not usually the one up for a party, but today is a special day. Of course he won’t miss out on the first afterparty with his new band. 

You find him at the entrance. Your smile mirrors his, and your eyes only leave him for a second, as Jeno passes by and you greet him with a strange sense of politeness. Once Yangyang is close enough to run towards, you envelope him in a bear hug, jumping around in excitement. He takes notice of your perfume– this is not the first time he’s smelled it, but the light aroma of roses and vanilla always manages to make him feel a strange sense of bliss. 

“You did so well! Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” you yell encouraging words into his ear, making him jump a little from the loudness of your voice.

“Thank you!” he says, jumping around with you and squeezing you harder for a mere second. Something about you being the first one to congratulate him on the first step towards his big goal makes his heart swell, the sight of the light behind your eyes making him feel a tad emotional.

“Now let’s go party! Renjun and Jaemin are waiting at the bar,” you say as you move from him, “Jun ordered you a beer, he insisted that you liked it. If that’s not the case, blame him, not me.”

Laughing as you two disappear deeper into the bar, you quickly find the two at the bar, accompanied with Hendery, Chenle, and who he remembered was Mark, even though he’s only met him once. “Where’s Jeno?”

“Most likely somewhere with his groupies,” Renjun shrugs, sliding the beer closer to his best friend. “You did well, by the way. You looked like a rockstar,” he says, a teasing tone sent his way with a grin on the older one’s face. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up-”

“I mean it! Now, have your beer so we can get some shots,” he says, making Yangyang roll his eyes and chug the beer, although not in one go– he’s not a monster. Or an alcoholic. Yet.

Once he’s done with his drink, the group moves to one of the booths in the corner of the bar. It was full just a moment ago, but the group that was sitting there before left, so they were free to take their spot. It was more comfortable to sit on the royal-blue sofas than the tall, lanky barstools, and Yangyang was happy for the support of the cushions under his bottom, if he was about to drink more. His centre of gravity is always a little messed up once he has something to drink, so a tall barstool wouldn’t really help him in this case.

Glancing at you, sitting right next to him, you don’t seem as unhappy with Jeno’s lack of presence. It makes him feel a bit relieved, especially after the talk you two had at McDonald’s a week ago. He knows that one can’t just get over someone in a week, but the idea of you still yearning after someone who was so out of reach was making Yangyang’s head hurt, so he was happy to see that you’re not running after him, or trying to look for him in the crowded bar.

You take your phone out of your pocket, yelling over the loud music as you read out the text shining on the screen of your phone. “Hyuck should arrive here any minute! He says he’s sorry for missing the gig, but he had to watch his baby sister, so there was nothing he could do.”

“It’s okay!” Chenle yells back, taking another sip of one of the cocktails you ordered for him when he was still in the back. He complained about it looking too girly for his current look, but he liked the taste nonetheless, so the argument was quickly settled.

“Yeah!” Yangyang chimes in, “family comes first. And babysitting,” he adds.

“Wait! Didn’t you use to babysit too?” Jaemin asks over the music, pointing his eyes at Yangyang.

“He did!” Renjun agrees with a laugh.

“But they kicked him out because the girl he was babysitting learned the word fuck from him,” you add, laughing as you remember the story he told you once when he was over at your flat.

“That’s not why they fired me-”

“It was! You told me!”

“It really wasn’t, you’re just-”

“Listen. We all know that’s why, every other word that comes out of your mouth is a swear word,” you say, grinning at him as he gets worked up over the small argument.

“I don’t fucking swear-” he tries to argue, when it hits him. He… he just did. Right there.

“Anyways!” Jaemin chimes in to lighten the mood, “I believe it’s time for shots!”

“I-”

“No, Hendery, you can’t skip this round and no, we don’t care that sambuca makes you sick. Now, let’s get to it, lads!” 

The shot glasses with the clear liquid are distributed amongst everyone in the circle, all of them taking the shot. Once the glass is pressed against Yangyang’s lips, he catches a telling look from Renjun on the opposite side of the table; a one that asks what is going on between you and the girl you were too shy to talk to when you first met her, but he ignores it and just lets the sambuca shot hit his throat, swallowing. No one is brave enough to not make that disgusted face after taking a shot, but at least no one gets made fun of. Just yet. 

With Yangyang’s low alcohol tolerance, he can sense that the teasing is only yet to come.

More and more shots in, he can feel his head spinning and all jokes shared along the group get only funnier. Somewhere along the way, Hyuck arrives, squishing himself next to Mark at the edge of the seat, greeting everyone and congratulating Yangyang on his first ever gig. When there’s a promise to drink to that with him, Yangyang is suddenly tugged by his hand, making him almost fall over as you try to make him stand up from his place.

“No, pretty boy, you’ve had enough for now,” you say, “let’s dance it out, shall we?”

“Probably not the best idea, Y/N,” Renjun notes from the other side of the table.

“We’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t understand, like, he will fall over. It will happen,” Renjun explains once more, the sureness in his voice not making you even bat an eye.

Yangyang doesn’t even try to advocate himself. There’s no use– Renjun is most likely right, and he will fall over. But he also doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation you’re having anyway, when your hand is still in his, fingers intertwined, and the nickname you used for him, although a little mockingly, is still ringing in his head.

Dragged across the dance floor, you two find your place in the corner, where there’s not that many people around. It’s getting late and the bar is only getting more crowded, leading towards the rush of the night, but Yangyang doesn’t find himself minding as you hug him loosely around his neck and swing with him to the music playing through the speakers.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking at him with honest concern.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Do you feel sick? Do you want water?” you ask him questions, all caring and making his heart swell. No one’s ever made sure he was okay when drinking before, so the sight of the frown on your face is making him feel content in your hold, as he dances with you– although not really catching the rhythm, since balance is the thing he’s trying to catch at this very moment. 

“I’m fine,” he says, smiling at you, “just a little drunk.”

“I can see that,” you laugh, “are you having a good time?”

He nods. “Are you?”

“I am,” you agree, smiling at him.

Yangyang finds himself pressed closer to you, but it really might just be because of the alcohol, when he talks closer to your ear. He doesn’t have to yell as much this way, and he finds it more comfortable, considering that he would still like to have his voice when he wakes up in the morning.

“Thanks,” he says.

“For what?”

“For… watching me play, I guess,” he shrugs, “and for staying here after.”

“I think you’re forgetting that all those other people are my friends as well, Yang,” you tease him, the tone of your voice making him shake his head in disbelief and roll his eyes at you.

“Okay, well, that’s true. But… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I do. I just don’t know how to articulate myself.”

You laugh at the simple honesty behind his drunken slurs, finding the tired boy endearing. “It’s okay,” you don’t push him.

“It’s just… if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here tonight, that’s all,” he says, finally, not knowing that he secretly articulated everything he wanted and more, making you smile at him. 

One of the hands that was previously clasped with your other one around his neck moves up towards his face, brushing the hair that’s falling into his eyes out of his face. The boy watches you with big eyes, mouth a little agape in shock. This action feels intimate to him, only treasured between you two, tugged secretly in the corner of the club. He feels weak in his knees, and although he manages to hold himself up, he knows that it’s no longer the effect that alcohol has on him, but yours.

“Don’t thank me. You were made for this,” you say, “you shined out there, you know? Give it a few more gigs and you’ll have even more groupies than Jeno,” you giggle, pressing your forehead against his for a brief second, just to be close to him, allowing yourself to be sincere even in the loud atmosphere of the night.

Swallowing hard, Yangyang chuckles airly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You should probably stop looking at me like that.”

“What? Why?” you ask, confused.

“Because it’s making it really hard for me to act like I don’t like you,” he confesses, watching your expression shift– the wrinkle between your eyebrows appearing for a second before your palm moves away from his hair and briefly touches his cheek and you move away from him, shaking your head.

“You’re drunk, Yang.”

He is. But even being sober can’t make his feelings for you go away.

“Yeah. I am.”

KISS ME LIKE NOBODY WOULD WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN

When you and Yangyang meet, it’s usually either at your place, in your little room covered by posters and artwork, or in town with all your other friends; going to the skate park, or having boba at the local mall. You rarely have time for just each other alone, and the only times when Yangyang has you all for himself is in your quiet room, where you learn to play the guitar, and he stares at you with fondness when he casually plays you love songs just for the sake of playing something, not wanting you to see the intentions behind his song choices.

Today, though, you’re nestled at Yangyang’s place– at his little balcony, to be exact. His parents were going out to the theatre, they said, so you only met them briefly, but Yangyang is glad for that fact, because he’s almost certain they’d embarrass him in front of you with childhood stories or prying questions, assuming you two were together, and he’s not entirely ready to face that yet. 

Alone in the whole house, you tucked yourselves into the small space of the balcony, sat at the floor with pillows under your bottoms, looking out to the hills. Yangyang used to complain to his parents about the placement of the balcony– when he was little, he didn’t understand why someone would want to look outside and see nature, only metres and metres covered in tall trees, when they could look out and see the busy street, people living their lives, laughing and screaming in joy. The older he gets, though, the more he understands why this is so much better; the sight of nature calms him down, creating the balcony into a humble abode, a relaxing spot for him to watch the trees move with the wind. If he’s lucky, sometimes, he can even spot a stray deer, looking out of the forest, tasting the city on its tongue. He subliminaly tells it to come back where it came from, for it’s safer for the animal to be kept in the woods, but he feels like the sight of it makes him appreciate what he has even more.

It’s early November, the leaves of the trees in front of you are starting to turn all the pretty colours of the rainbow, orange hues making the place look ethereally beautiful. You sit next to him, legs crossed, your outfit the most casual he’s ever seen you wear. The sight of sweatpants and the loose hoodie on your frame makes him unconditionally happy, for it means that you’re comfortable with him to the point of not even needing to dress up. 

“Why is your guitar so different to mine?” you ask him, furrowing your brows in question.

“Mine’s an acoustic, yours is the classical one. The strings are different,” he notes, seeing you nod in understatement.

Your guitar lessons are not as frequent as they used to be– truth be told, you only paid for an actual lesson a few times. The other times, when you two just laid in your bed and talked about everything, only sometimes taking your guitar into your hands and playing a song or two, Yangyang refused to take any money from you. It would be like paying him for hanging out with you, and that’s not the case here. Sure, he helps you with playing, he shares advice, but it’s not the regular guitar class he gives to the kids in the neighbourhood, and that’s why he’d feel bad to make you pay for them. 

“They hurt my fingers,” you scowl, making Yangyang giggle at your hurt expression.

“They’re harder to play, ‘cause they’re steel,” he says, “want me to play instead?” 

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I wanna show you something.”

Opening his eyes wide in surprise, Yangyang only nods, becoming you to start. When you came over into your room, you didn’t say much. Your eyes travelled around the walls, adoring the few posters he hung up above his bed, squinting at the collection of energy drink cans at the top of his wardrobe. There’s a bowl full of guitar picks on his table, which you scanned over faintly, and a hoodie, the only thing he forgot to clean up before you arrived, draped over his chair. When your eyes found one of his guitars– the acoustic one– in the corner of his room, you asked to borrow it, taking him by surprise.

Strumming the guitar a few times, testing it, trying to get to the rhythm and the sound of the new thing, you clear your throat and look at him again one last time before you start. “I practised some more, since your guitar lessons are pretty much useless now, when you won’t shut up for one minute-”

“That’s entirely your fault!”

“Whatever,” you mumble, “but, basically, I think I finally learned that song.”

Smiling faintly, perhaps a little nervously, you start playing the song you requested him to teach you in your first guitar lesson. The chords fall smoothly from your hand now, the strumming rhythmical and exactly like the original, everything falling into its place nicely.

You even start singing, and although your voice is not the prettiest one when you sing, the notes sounding flat and the high-notes a little shaky, although your voice isn’t like from the movies and you’re not a princess that’s good at everything, something about this moment feels truly special to Yangyang. When you notice the seriousness of the whole thing, his examining eyes and the lost expression, your singing turns more silly, purposefully not hitting the right notes towards the end of the song, dragging the lines for longer than you should, making Yangyang laugh.

He thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of the song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, looking at you in real time.

“How was it?” you ask, a hopeful glint in your tone.

“Wonderful,” he replies, and he means it– it’s an easy song to learn, sure, but he knows how much you’ve tried, how much work you truly put in. To work on something so hard and finally get to the goal, must feel fulfilling. He’s proud of you, in a way.

The grin that appears on your face is wider than he’d ever seen, as you put the guitar down next to you and try to battle it, as if you were afraid to show him just how much this moment meant to you.

“Thank you.”

“For what? This was all you, as you said, because I can’t shut up for one minute in our guitar lessons, so…”

“Fuck off, you know I was only joking,” you say, “we both know that I wouldn’t have done this without you. It’s a small victory, but it’s still important to me nonetheless.”

Your body shifts closer to him, a hesitant look on your face flashing for a second before you wipe it off and hug your companion from the side, both of your hands enveloping around his torso. Warmness spreads all through Yangyang’s body, making him wonder that perhaps, it’s the appreciation you are trying to convey, sending it to him through your touch. Your head rests on his shoulder, staying in your position for a few more minutes, just listening to the silence that’s only occasionally ruined by the chirping of birds or the shuffling of the wind in the trees.

Yangyang doesn’t dare to break the silence. He only lets you do as you please, when you pry your hands off him and move so you’re more comfortable, with your head still resting on his shoulder. It’s a simple act, but it means a lot to him– a subtle hint of affection, perhaps, which he treasures close to his heart.

Your hand silently finds his, resting in his lap. Taking it into your hold and playing with his fingers, Yangyang finds it hard to not think about just how much he’d like to kiss you right now. The smell of your shampoo mixed with the hint of your perfume hits his nose, lullying him to sleep. 

A little naive, perhaps, he thinks of the paradox– you started playing the guitar for someone you were chasing after, and proceeded with it for someone that was chasing after you. 

Or maybe, it was all because of yourself. You just needed someone that would support your little dreams. And with the dreams treasured somewhere deep in Yangyang’s insides, some that no one else but you knows, perhaps you two are a great duo. Nobody else would hold you up just as much as he does.

SO SPIN THE BOTTLE IN YOUR BRAIN AND MATCH THE WEAKNESS WITH A NAME

“If I knew that you’d just be doing your homework, I wouldn’t have come,” Yangyang mumbles as he lays on your bed, looking at his phone. His screen shifts with Tiktoks– the social media is almost embarrassingly too addictive for him not to check up on it once in a while, and now, when he has nothing better to do, he naturally gravitates towards it. 

Also, just for the record, that’s a lie. And he knows it– he just won’t admit it. Of course he would come anyway. Even if you told him that today’s activity is staring at the ceiling for three hours straight, he’d come. He’d come for any event you invite him to, because it means that he can spend time with you, stay in your presence. And that’s enough for him.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I already pushed this assignment back too much, because you wanted to go get boba the other day.”

“So it’s my fault you’re late on assignments?” he gasps, offended, as he puts his phone down to put his whole attention towards you. 

“Yeah,” you nod, a little absently, “of course it is. You were distracting me from my studies.”

Scoffing, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. Truth be told, he’s happy to be your distraction. That means you gravitate towards him whenever you need to get your mind off things– that means he’s your safe space, in a way. The realisation warms his heart a little as he proceeds to climb off your bed, joining you on the floor.

You’re sprawled out on your white fluffy carpet, with a plastic white tablecloth thrown over the surface, a canvas plopped in the middle of it all, tubs of acrylic paint carelessly situated all over the floor. As an art major, your homework is different to the usual. You don’t write lengthy essays, although the time for them comes every once in a while when you take your Art History class. Your assignments mostly include doing art itself, not only studying it, but experiencing the beauty of creating on your own skin.

“What are you painting?” he asks, eyes scanning the canvas. 

It’s not a big one, it’s just the right size to fit on the plastic covering under it, making sure your pure white carpet doesn’t get paint stains on it. He notices the brushes all over the place– one is even thrown under the bed, making Yangyang chuckle as he remembers your sudden outburst of frustration a few minutes ago, huffing through the silence and throwing something to the other side of the room. 

“Don’t look. I hate when people look.”

“Why?” he asks, confused.

“It makes me feel watched. I don’t like it,” you mourn, stopping in your process and finding his eyes for a split second, truth mirroring in them.

“I’m not watching you,” he mutters, “I’m just looking. I’m appreciating the art, if you will.”

“You’re gonna judge it. I hate when people judge my art,” you say as you get back to painting, mixing the shades on your pallet and then moving back to the canvas, plopping them on there, creating all sorts of images in the small space, “it makes me wanna cry when they say it’s bad.”

“Isn’t that like… the whole point of art school?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you nod, making the boy hum in understatement. “Makes me feel fucking miserable, to be honest.”

Yangyang chuckles. The room falls into silence again, as you let him watch you paint. He feels special, for you said you don’t let people watch you, but even with his eyes plastered on the whole scene– your art, but mostly you, scanning your focused face– you don’t glare at him, you don’t curse him off, you just let him peacefully sit next to you, appreciating you.

After a while, you start to hum a song, seemingly happy with your progress on the painting. Your eyebrows relax and your face doesn’t look as tense, and when Yangyang takes a look at your painting, it seems like you’re almost finished; not a blank space left on the canvas, your hand taking the smallest, tiniest brushes, adding small details to the whole thing.

“What did you paint?” he asks again, making you chuckle.

“Don’t you have eyes?” you ask, making him roll his eyes at your question.

“I do,” he replies, “but I wanna know what it symbolises, you know. Like.. What was the theme you were supposed to paint and shit, that’s what I’m interested in.”

Your eyes meet his for a brief second, smiling. Perhaps no one’s ever asked you about your art in such depth before. “It’s a William Oliver replica. It’s a scene from Much Ado about Nothing,” you say, finally done with your piece, stretching back to straighten your neck.

The painting is a beautiful scenery, Yangyang would even go as far as saying it looks like the original, although he’s never seen it before. It’s a picture of two women sitting on a bench in the woods, one of them looking past her shoulder at a couple walking by, her expression distraught. He wonders why you chose the piece, but before he has time to ask, you’re already giving him the reply.

“We were supposed to replicate a painting that resembles one of our deepest emotions and… I chose this one,” you add, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Taking one last look at the saddened woman, her expression dark and solemn with the sight of the couple passing by, Yangyang suddenly understands it all, he no longer has the need to ask you what the deepest emotion you have is, because it’s clear as day, right there in front of him, served on a golden plate.

And you might try to mask it, try to hide it from him as hard as you can; perhaps that’s why you haven’t told him the original name of the painting, after all, but he can see it in your eyes, he can sense it in the way you speak about him when he comes to your mind. 

Perhaps Yangyang understands your art so well because he deeply resonates. He too feels the way you do, he too looks at a pair passing by, the sight of them together making his heart clench with the feeling you can only describe as Unrequited Love.

I CAN STILL SMELL HER PERFUME, DID IT RUB OFF ON YOU?

“And…” Jeno’s singing suddenly trails off, his eyes shooting towards the ceiling as he searches for the next lyrics in his head, sighing when they don’t come to him as naturally as they always do. The band practice isn’t going well today, and frankly speaking, it’s getting on everyone’s nerves.

Hendery slams the drums with much furiosity, cutting the rhythm off abruptly. Yangyang finds himself following him, his strumming coming to a halt as an angry figure appears from behind him, screaming close to his ear.

“What the fuck, man?” Chenle yells at the leader of the band, sighing. “We have a gig in three days and you can’t even focus on a single band practice?” 

Jeno shrugs, pacing around. The frustration smeared all over his face is enough to make the whole group even more annoyed, the tense atmosphere making the air in the old garage feel particularly heavy. 

“You come to the practice late,” Chenle starts his little rant again, counting all the reasons why he’s annoyed with his bandmate on his fingers, “and mind you, the practice is at your fucking place. You live here and you’re half an hour late. Then, you’re all over the place; not paying attention to anything we have to say, forgetting the lyrics, playing the chords wrong in the few little songs where you actually have to play the guitar-”

“Are you done?” Jeno cuts him off, the tone of his voice stern and cold.

“I mean, I could go on, but it seems like you don’t really wanna hear it,” Chenle says, pacing towards the sofa and taking a seat on it.

“Glad you caught that,” he scoffs, not meeting anyone’s eye. 

Yangyang doesn’t say a word; he’s not the one for verbal or physical fights. Sure, he does have some pent-up anger inside of him, most of it aimed towards Jeno, but he won’t dare to show it. It’s not his place to say anything. He hasn’t been in the band for long, and for all he knows, the frustration he feels towards the boy may as well be because of the unreciprocated feelings you have for him. And now, that wouldn’t really be fair of Yangyang to act on, would it?

So instead, he wanders over to the corner of the room, figuring that it’s time for a break, sitting on one of the old, dusty armchairs. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Hendery asks, making the other boy frown.

“I don’t know, man,” he shrugs, indifferent, “I’ve got a headache.”

“Hangover again?” Chenle asks, the tone of his voice ironical and snappy, snickering to himself when the boy doesn’t reply and instead just looks ahead of him, too shameful to answer the simple question. “Of course. I could’ve guessed that.”

“Look, it’s not my fault that you don’t take the opportunities you’re getting into your hands,” Jeno shrugs, grinning to himself. Leaning over to the small coffee table in the middle of the garage, he takes the can of Redbull into his hands and takes a sip from it.

“What opportunities, you say?” Hendery asks.

“Well,” he starts, “the parties, the invitations, the attention…” he trails off, before a snarky look falls to place onto his face, “the girls…”

Chenle scoffs in response, putting his legs up onto the table. “Maybe if you gave more attention to responsibilities, the music and the band, we wouldn’t be still stuck in this fucking garage,” he shrugs and Hendery only hesitantly locks his eyes with him, nodding to show him that he agrees with his point.

“Well, it’s still my fucking garage, isn’t it?” Jeno grins, meeting the others’ eyes. 

After another set of sighs, nothing being able to loosen up the atmosphere and make the air lighter, Hendery moves from his spot on the sofa and takes the bag from the floor. “You should probably get some sleep. We’ll practise tomorrow, since you’re pretty much useless today.”

Chenle follows his actions, feet pacing around the garage to gather his things and hide his treasured bass guitar into the case, taking it with him. “See you tomorrow,” he says, turning around to wave at Yangyang, still sitting soundly in the corner of the garage.

With only the two of them left in the dusty practice room, Yangyang feels himself get awkward. The truth is, it’s easier to get on with Hendery and Chenle. He finds them to be more approachable, less intimidating and also more friendly. Yangyang doesn’t recall ever hearing Jeno speak to him with the niceness they always use, and he also doesn’t remember the prideful boy to ever look at him with eyes that would show that he finds him equal. Something about their relationship is always based on a feeling of superiority and however hard Yangyang tries, there’s nothing he can do to make the feeling go away.

Figuring that it’s his time to leave, he stands up and moves towards the sofa, where his bag is. 

“I hope you’re in better shape tomorrow,” he mutters, getting closer to where Jeno’s sitting.

“What, you’re gonna give me another lecture? I’ve heard enough, trust me,” he snaps back, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion and shock, sighing to himself. Leaning closer towards his bag on the sofa, something lingers in the air, and it’s not the awkwardness or the unsaid rivalry between the two.

It’s the smell of roses and vanilla, the faint aroma of it hitting his nose and making his stomach twist in anger. Suddenly, everything clicks into place– the hangover, him being late and all over the place, the smell of your perfume lingering on him wherever he goes.

“Were you with Y/N?” he asks.

“What?” he furrows his brows, pointing them onto the other boy as he scoffs. “You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?” 

“Yeah. Because I can get her whenever I want, and you can’t?” he says, cocky and full of confidence. “Don’t worry, I caught the way you feel about her long ago. Too bad she’ll never be yours, man.”

Gathering his things, hands trembling and his whole body lighting on fire, he finds himself walking off towards the exit. Turning around only once, he finally gets out what he’s been thinking of for the past few weeks. 

“You know what? Fuck you, Jeno. You can look for a new guitarist for your next gig now. I hope you find someone that doesn’t find you absolutely fucking insufferable.”

You might be completely his, magically under the rockstar’s spell, but the truth is, sadly, that Lee Jeno can never be truly yours. You’re always gonna have to share him with every single girl at the club, with all his crazy fans that post about him on Facebook. You’re always just gonna be his second choice, the girl he turns to when no one else is around, the girl he uses for his pleasure when there’s no other person willing to get on with him.

And that makes Yangyang perhaps even more furious than if you were dating. 

This might be his deepest dream, the thing he’s felt the most happy and excited about in a long while, but still, he can’t find it in him to continue in a band with someone that only finds you when they feel like it, stripping you off of everything, using you to their best and then throwing you out like a piece of trash, not satisfied with you anymore.

He could never go on with someone like that.

IT’S 3:45, THE TAXI’S NOT ARRIVED, I DON’T THINK THAT HE’S COMING

The rain hitting the asphalt does nothing to make Yangyang feel better about everything– truthfully, it makes him feel even worse, as expected with the gloomy weather, as he walks down the street towards the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, the one that is the furthest away from his house, away in the crevices of the roads that he doesn’t know that well, despite living there his whole life.

It’s a little past eleven and he’s gotten your text just about ten minutes ago. The contents of it were simple, just a single sentence asking him to meet you at the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, far away even from your house alone. 

You two haven’t spoken in a little over three days. After quitting the band, he’s pretty much sheltered himself from everyone. Even Renjun’s calls were getting ignored, and while the rest of the group just figured to leave the poor boy alone, his best friend made it his quest to walk down to his house and scream at him in person, for the little angry human was worried that his friend was six feet under a long time ago.

Nearing the little glass box, acting as a bus stop, Yangyang already sees your figure sitting at one of the benches, knees up and pressed towards your chest, hugging yourself. The sight of you makes Yangyang’s heart break just the slightest, for he already knows what’s going on just by reading your text message. It would be healthier for him to stay at home and leave you to deal with everything on your own, but he was never the one for good life choices. Somehow, he always has to fuck himself over. His own sweet self-sabotage.

Drenched in rain, droplets of water falling off the tip of his nose, he finally makes his way towards you and sits on the bench next to you. Sniffling a little, presumably from the cold, he waits for you to talk first. It’s hard for him to find words to say to you at this moment. No conflict happened between the two of you, but he’s sure you already know about what happened between him and Jeno, and he doesn’t have it in him to talk about it. He doesn’t know what you think about the whole thing; he also doesn’t know how Jeno explained it to everyone. All he knows is that the uncomfort he felt whenever he was around him is not something he should be putting up with, and that the decision he made was final, and also good for him, in the end.

“Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” you ask him, your voice faint in the silence of the night.

Shrugging, he snickers. “Dunno.”

The truth is, Yangyang doesn’t like umbrellas. Walking anywhere with them feels awkward and embarrassing, and he’d rather die than to feel humiliated. It’s a habit of his, to walk everywhere without an umbrella, even when it’s storming outside. The struggle of getting his wet clothes off before he hops into a hot shower is not really worth it, if he really thinks about it, but old habits are hard to break.

Taking the hood off his head, Yangyang runs his hands through his hair, shaking the water out. You lean away from him for just a second, trying to shield yourself from the droplets of water flying everywhere, but there’s no use– you end up getting a little wet anyway.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he finally breaks off the awkward silence. “There are no buses coming at this hour.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So… why are you here, then?” he asks. 

Shrugging, you sniffle from the cold as well, making Yangyang notice the lightness of your clothes. The fabric looks thin, the mesh long-sleeve doing nothing to shield you from the cold, and he suddenly regrets not bringing another jacket with him to keep you warm. 

“You already know why, Yangyang,” you mumble, “you already know.”

“What happened?” he asks. 

The truth is, Yangyang has a faint idea. He may have quit the band, but he hasn’t forgotten the schedule yet– today is the day of the gig. It’s a special one, presumably, because it’s away from the town. A big bar somewhere in a big city called Chucky Tribute to play on the opening night, so there must be a lot of people there, leading the band to getting more recognition than ever before. Everyone went– the whole friend group, including Renjun and Donghyuck, although the latter always seems to be late everywhere. Everyone went… except for you two.

“Jeno was supposed to drive me,” you say, “but he never showed up. I called him numerous times, sent him lots of texts, but he just wouldn’t reply.”

“Have you tried reaching the others?” he asks.

“I have. They arrived safely, had a great show…. Jeno didn’t mention me… you know, it’s funny,” you chuckle ironically, bitterness behind your tone, “Jaemin thought I just didn’t feel like coming today. They’re all there and now I look like a douchebag that doesn’t want to support their friends. It’s ridiculous.”

“That makes two of us,” Yangyang scoffs, trying to lighten the situation.

Humming, you only resolve to nod. “Then, Jeno texted me saying he’ll send a taxi for me and that I should wait here.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” you faintly reply, shuddering from the cold. “So I’m… waiting, I guess.”

Yangyang smiles to himself. Everything about you screams devastation– the way your eyes don’t meet his, the way you refuse to change your position into another one, hugging yourself to comfort. The makeup under your eyes is a little smeared, but he won’t mention it. You look devastatingly lonely, and something about you texting Yangyang just to battle the feeling makes him feel at least a little valued by you. It’s a sign of something– a sign of your trust, perhaps.

You’re waiting for Jeno’s taxi. It should make him seep in envy, but it doesn’t. Strange.

“You know, I finished my song the other day. I could show it to you sometime,” you say, starting a conversation, “it had a lot to fix and I wasn’t quite happy with it, but I think you’d like it. It’s… it means a lot to me.”

“Sure,” Yangyang nods, scooping himself closer to you. Seeing you shudder from the cold once again, he bites on his lower lip, hesitating on his next question, but saying it out-loud nonetheless. “I know this might sound a bit out of place and as if I’m being stingy by not offering it to you, but I’m really cold as well, so do you wanna share my jacket?” 

Looking at him for the first time since he got there, you shake your head in disbelief and break out into a grin. “You’re unbelievable,” you say, “but yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Moving closer, Yangyang takes off one of the sleeves on his jacket, pressing his side flush to yours, watching you as you take his jacket and drape it over your right side. Soon enough, taking the boy by surprise, your left arm moves under the jacket and hugs him around the waist, making yourself more comfortable in the awkward position. 

“Thank god for your ridiculously oversized clothing,” you mumble as you sigh in warmness, making him snicker.

Sitting in silence, the time passing without either of you knowing or noticing, the intimacy and closeness of you two occupying both of your minds, Yangyang wonders how he ended up in this mess. Living his teenage dream for a little over a month, playing one show, getting to know you and falling for you harder than he’s ever fallen for anyone before. He thinks he’d rather be unaware of his growing feelings for you. It’s not like they hurt him, it’s not like the idea of not being loved back by you makes his heart break or anything, but he feels like slowly, it’s ripping on his edges and making him feel a little worn-out. 

He wonders why your actions towards him haven’t changed since he drunkenly told you that he liked you. You showed no signs of discomfort with him, no awkwardness. It’s like somewhere in the depths of your soul, you were content with the idea of Liu Yangyang being in love with you. What that says about you, he doesn’t know, but it’s sure that it has to mean something.

Your head slowly falls onto his shoulder. The steady rhythm of the rain falling on top of the roof of the glassy bus stop acts like a lullaby, the darkness, only lightly discarded with the yellow hue of the lamppost a few metres away providing you a shield of some sort. The neighbourhood is almost scarily silent, but it’s no wonder due to the late hours of the day.

“I’m glad you came,” you mumble.

“Of course I came,” he replies. The choice of his words is quite obvious– there’s nothing else he could do, but to help you ease the pain of being thrown away to the side by Lee Jeno once again. After some time, it almost looks like he’s getting used to it.

“Sometimes, I wish I loved someone else. Sometimes, I wish that someone was…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence, but rather choosing to start a new one instead, “Jeno doesn’t deserve it. I’m done with him now. For good.”

Yangyang doesn’t reply, leaving your words to sink in. Noticing the familiarity of your sentences, the things you’ve already said to him multiple times ago, he only snickers in half-amusement, half-pain. “Are you?”

Thinking, you shrug. “Most likely.”

“I mean… it’s okay. You can’t really make your emotions go away like that,” Yangyang says. He knows what he’s talking about, after all– he tried.

“Yeah,” you agree, “but I think it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Remaining silent, Yangyang pays attention to the rhythm of the raindrops falling to the ground. Your body hangs off his, holding on to his clothing as if to keep yourself afloat. Somewhere along the way, his arm found its way around your waist, but he doesn’t really remember when it happened. All he registers is the faint movement of his fingers against your skin, trying to calm down the storm you refuse to show him, but he knows too well is going on inside of you at this very moment.

Eyes travelling towards the red neon sign outside of the bus stop, Yangyang finds that it’s 3:45am already and the time he spent with you passed by without him even noticing.

“It’s getting late,” he says.

“It’s been late for at least a few hours now, Yang,” you mumble, the nickname rolling off your tongue soundly.

“Yeah, but I mean… I don’t think the taxi’s coming,” he explains, a bit of hesitance in his voice, trying not to break your illusion.

“Oh, I know,” you muse, “I know. I knew it the very moment he sent the text that he’s gonna call it for me.”

Your statement confuses him, makes him furrow his brows and search for an answer. When you don’t explain further, he gets it, somehow, and the realisation both breaks him and makes him feel content all at once, as most things about you always do.

You already knew you could never trust a word that comes out of Lee Jeno’s mouth. And in times where you most need comfort, you call Yangyang. 

You always call Yangyang. 

“Let’s go home then, shall we? I’ll walk you.”

I’D LOVE TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU ENOUGH TO WRITE A LOVE SONG

Looking at you plucking the strings of your jet-black guitar, sitting in your room, Yangyang is enveloped with a strange sense of nostalgia that cuts right through his bones and sits inside of his stomach. You’re sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, not looking him in the eye as you strum an unfamiliar melody.

Nothing much changed since the two of you met for the first time. You’re still the same you that surprised him with a sharp remark as he entered your house for the first time, the same you that he silently adores and watches, paying attention to all details; the freckles on your skin, the calluses on your fingers, the hesitant smile you flash him as you start singing the lyrics to your song almost absent-mindedly. And he’s still the same person you met in the park; the boy with a dream, only waiting to be fulfilled, the boy that tries so hard to find his place in the world. The boy that quietly supports you with each step you take, the boy that fell for you fast and hard, without knowing how to control it.

Your room is still the same shade of white, splashed with colour on the edges, where the posters reach. The comfort and the easiness of the atmosphere is still the same as well. 

The truth is, everything stays the same. Time passed, but nothing happened. Ignoring the mess in the middle, it’s like you’ve come full circle, stayed exactly the same, stuck in motion, but progressing nowhere. Yangyang can’t choose if it’s scary or comforting. 

But when your eyes meet and you sing the lyric, your voice unsteady, but absolutely, 100% raw and honest, Yangyang thinks that perhaps something changes over time. His feelings for you don’t disappear, not at all, but they progressively grow. They deepen and he starts to understand them, getting in touch with them, welcoming them despite knowing they will never get received and reciprocated.

“I’d love to be in love with you enough to write a love song,” you sing, the easy chords forming a melody, the lyrics hitting the boy in the stomach. 

It’s like they’re addressed to him the same way they were addressed to yourself. A silent confession, opening yourself up to him completely, because after all this time, he’s the only one you can get yourself to fully trust and let see everything. The truth is, he deserves it. After being so patient; after being so calm and caring with you and your emotions. 

When you’re finished with the song, putting the guitar aside, Yangyang can’t help but grin at you.

“Us two could make a band, you know,” he smiles, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t think the rockstar life is for me, dude,” you say, moving closer to him, but still keeping your distance. That’s how it works between the two of you all the time, in a way; you always somehow get closer, but the pit between the two of you never really disappears. Maybe, it never will. But that’s okay. 

Yangyang is okay with that. 

He’s not angry about it anymore. The truth is, some situations can make him truly furious; seeping with jealousy, cursing at his fate for making him feel the things he does, asking himself all the what ifs and why me questions. But after taking a step back, Liu Yangyang can finally recognise what he found and what he learned, and appreciate the anger for being there, for it’s an emotion as well and he has to let himself feel it, and finally let it go.

Maybe, he’ll never have a band. Maybe, he’ll never be the same as Lee Jeno. Maybe, he’ll never have you.

But he’s not angry about it anymore.

Your body slowly shuffles next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. Something about the gesture makes him feel all warm inside, a slight smile creeping up his lips at the sight of you curled up to his side.

And once again, he thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of your song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, while looking at you in real time.

And that’s okay for him. Sometimes, even a glimpse of someone is enough.

When you cuddle up with him in the bed later that day, watching Netflix like the old times; when a kiss lands into his hair and makes him shy away from your touch, he wonders if he’ll ever live up to Lee Jeno and if he’ll ever get loved by you the same way you loved him before.

He’s not angry anymore. 

Well, sometimes, he is.

#nct #wayv #yangyang #liu yangyang #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang x reader #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fluff #nct angst #wayv angst #yangyang angst #nct fic #wayv fic #yangyang fic #nct imagine #yangyang imagine #wayv imagine #nct scenario #wayv scenario #yangyang scenario

[moroser]

[incoming long and personal and dark post]

it dawned on me that it’s april and that means it’s been 6 years since i stopped doing drugs. big achievement. i did weed the whole time, thinking i needed it to keep away from the worse stuff, but i stopped that too, almost 2 months ago now. everything i’m about to talk about i did without anyone in my life (offline) noticing and all by myself.

my entire life has been unstable and so difficult. and i mean difficult and sad. i used to drink pretty heavily, but i stopped when i found pills. i was taking pretty much any opioid i could find, i even stole them. i was text book addict with pills. i had every excuse to keep going with it, it made sense to me at the time. i was in so much pain mentally, emotionally, and eventually, physically. taking them was reprieve. 

eventually, i was taking so many a day, quite honestly i should have died. my brain was blank, i lost my creativity and i stopped drawing, which is the one thing i love the most to do. create. even though i did not stop, the fact i felt nothing in that realm anymore was heartbreaking. i’d spent several nights staring at the ceiling practically waiting to die. i had one dream that i can remember while on drugs and it was of me staring at myself opened-eyed and dead on my bed. it shook me.

the drugs affected my ability to think, cry and feel, then one day on my way to work, after taking so many, i got so sick on the side of the road on the freeway several times. eventually i pulled off into a town i didn’t know and passed out in the parking lot of a gas station for who knows how long. i woke up dazed with the taste of puke in my mouth, and totally dehydrated. i missed work, i was embarrassed with myself. i have no idea how long i sat there for before getting out of the car to walk around. eventually i made it home but i felt like i wasn’t the same after that. 

decided to detox (after trying before, and failing), which was the worst events i’ve been through in my life. took days, nearly a week to get over the worst of the symptoms. i don’t think i slept at all. i was so sick, shakes and chills, vomiting, etc. i let spongebob play for the entire time, that sponge grounded me lol. i’d made it through that time. and i stuck too it, using my desire to feel my creativity again and wanting to be better to my body to stay away from relapse. 

2017 i cleared my system of alcohol, pills, energy drinks, pop, and the only thing i’d let myself use was weed because i felt it would stop me from everything else. and technically, it did. it aided me for a long time. but the passed ~3 years i’ve been so ill with stomach issues and nausea and throwing up that i decided to stop that too. 

so now i’ve been completely sober for 1 month and 21 days. for the first time since high school i have nothing in my system that is altering me the way substance abuse has. it’s been a major adjustment. my focus is shit, my sleeping is difficult and my dreams are insanity. it literally feels like i’m sleeping just to wake up somewhere else because my dreams are so vivid and clear. i wake up every four hours having to adjust and remember i actually live here, not in dreamland. i didn’t dream at all while on drugs or weed, so in a way, i welcome the vibrancy of them. 

looking back, none of those things helped me. they only broke and shrouded my spirit with a darkness i don’t want to feel ever again. i want to be healthy and i want to give my body the chances that it deserves. i want to heal properly. i want to live so much. i want to find someone to be with that will understand me and accept me even with my flaws and history. i feel better already, but i know there’s still a long journey ahead and i can only hope it gets better. i deserve better. i know i’m a good person. i know i have so much creative potential in me and it’s what i want to give my energy and soul to.  

thanks for listening, if you read this. i am proud of myself for getting as far as i have but the support from my friends and strangers online has been a colossal sense of communal help i’ve never had offline. sharing my art has been a big help and just people enjoying it means so much to me. thank you.  

#tw drugs #tw death #journaling again cause its what i do #dont do drugs please. take it from me #tw addiction

[made-this-cause-why-not]

Quick rant about ATYD because, the slander just does not make sense to me. It's not a perfect fic and people are allowed to not like it but some of the reasons for people not liking it are just so weird to me. Like- people don't like it because Sirius is sexist.... Sirius is a teenage boy. Do the people that say that hang out with teenage boys IRL? They are sexist and sometimes racists, pieces of shit- especially around their guy friends or girl they think 'are cool with it'. Also, it was the 70's. Like, do people not realize that a white, rich (like fully out of touch with reality, Billionaire with money dating back to the 15th century Rich), SEVERLY TRAUMATIZED cis guy from the 70's would be a piece of shit as a child. Like, as Sirius got older he would grow to regret all the fucked up stuff he said an take the time to actually apologize and stuff but we never saw that because he was 21 when he was imprisoned. He never even left his frat boy era. And then I have seen others be mad because they made Dorcas white. This is a complaint I have only seen from white people and as a Black mauraders fan, it literally does not matter. Like- Dorcas meadows is a character mentioned less than five times in the entire series, with her race being nothing more than a token black person that J.K shoved in The Order to prove it wasn't all white and that the HP world has diversity. Her being made white changes nothing in the plot. People also say that wolfstar is toxic in it, like this isn't a fic about two deeply traumatized boys with no role models or healthy relationships or base their own off of, other than Effie and Fleamont which they don't meet until they are like 13. Like, of course they are going to be toxic and fucked up- their entire lives have been fucked up. The only valid critique I have seen is the fact that the G word is used to describe the wolf packs. Granted, I didn't know that was a slur until 2021 or so, it's still a fucked up term to use. But yeah, I feel like people often say it's a bad work, which is fine if you just don't vibe with it, but the reasoning for not liking it makes me pause a little because 'what?'.

Edit: Forgot to say this but people also hate the characterization of Mary because she is oversexualized, to which I say: so is Sirius. Like, they are both sooooo fucking slutty and sleep around a bunch, the fact that people only talk about Mary in this light can be attributed to one of two things. Either A: grasping at straws, or B: Putting the weight on Remus's narration. Him being inexperienced for alot of his time as hogwarts would allow for any kiss or hookup seem like the end of the world for in his eyes and by reading with the grain I can understand that- but even then don't slut shame the black women and not the Black. "but mary lost her virginity at 14"- people get their sexual urges right as they hit puberty. Teens are horny. In the 7th grade my middleschool took an all day trip that used to be over night until two students got caught fucking in a cabin. 13 year old 7th graders. I am not saying it is right to loose your virginity at such a young age but it isn't unheard of.

Edit 2: Last edit I swear, but I just saw some one's post saying they didn't like how remus having a learning disability was for shits and gigs or that he did drugs and joined a gang. Firstly, remus having a learning disability is a beautiful metaphor for his lycanthropy and class. He is studying along side his friends, completely confused and just playing along to not give anything away. It doubles onto how isolated Remus must have felt and his whole problem with opening up to others. Also, the fact that Remus had to push himself so hard academically just to get the same grades as his rich friends who coast by on their name and the fact that they have been learning latin and french from tutors since they could walk- I mean, it's just chef's kiss. And, do people not realize that people in the real world do drugs? That a lot of people struggle with addiction and are more prone to said struggle when they grow up in a shitty environment with out learning proper ways to cope with the traumatic events? Remus was in a gang because he was surrounded by people who were in a gang- people who understood him more than James or Sirius did.

Like, I know that I can't really say this because I am a legal adult ranting on tumblr, but all of the slander just makes me want to tell people to go outside. Make friends irl- not mutuals. Touch grass, hand out with people you age. Like yes atyd isn't perfect but it was very much accurate to how real people would have been in the 70's and I personally prefer that to the babygirl-ification of every male character in Harry Potter to the points where they are almost caricatures of themselves

#atyd #mauraders era #had to get this off my chest #wolfstar #rant post #this is very long #sorry #I am just very heated when people have bad media literacy #is it obvious that I'm an english major?

[goblinpaladin]

So Why Did I Ghost Everyone And Abandon This Blog? And Why Did the DSMP fall apart? And how are these two things related?

This is going to get long, but it's been eating away at me for years, so I think it's time to rip the bandage off.

So, in mid 2020, I [Dave] was introduced to a guy named Clay (who stated he was at least 21) by an at-the-time mutual friend. I didn't think much of him, but he managed to worm his way into my personal life and friend group.

Cut to late 2020, Clay manipulated my partner [K] into falling for him and coerced me into agreeing to polyamorously date him (also allowing the two of them to date). During this time, Clay was telling us that he was the minecraft youtuber, Dream, and provided us with screenshots (which were quickly deleted after we confirmed we saw them), and even seeing him log into the minecraft server we shared As Dream.

At the end of 2020, following the Dream Cheating Scandal, Mr. Beast bought out the Dream Name and actually replaced Clay (so this guy and the guy who face revealed are two different people) - after which he showed up to our home basically unannounced and moved in with us, without giving us any choice.

Notice that this is also around the time that the DSMP wound down and eventually fell apart, and all of Dream's friends mysteriously quit the SMP and started their own thing. Also notice that he did post a picture of himself sampling merchandise (I think it was a hoodie?) and think: This is NOT the same person who did a face reveal. It's clear that the bodies and hands are totally different.

Also note: The voices in his old videos versus his new videos are totally different. He was using an audio filter to pitch down his voice and "disguise" it.

Within a week of him forcefully moving in with us, Clay began raping me. Despite my having told him that I was asexual and not interested in sex (which he said was fine), he barged into my room naked after I had gotten out of the shower and DEMANDED we had sex, and proceeded to threaten me until I complied. The bedroom was on a second story and he blocked the door. I had no exit and no way to defend myself.

This is how I spend the next ~ 6 months of my life. Hostage in my own home, not allowed to leave without his permission.

He was with us for about 6 months, all of which was spent threatening us with legal action, doxxing, financial crippling, emotional and physical abuse, and assault. We lost thousands of dollars trying to house him while he freeloaded off of myself and my partner - we're both disabled and my partner is actually dying from kidney failure.

He held the promise of money, housing, and even a working kidney over both our heads. It also turns out that he had freshly turned 19, and he admitted that his brother had lied on all of his paperwork to get him his license early. So I have no idea how old he really was.

He isolated both K and myself from nearly all of our friends, tried to isolate us from family, and even went as far as to bring cocaine into our house, despite asking him many times not to bring any illegal drugs in. (We literally live in a city where weed is totally legal and he had no problem stealing our weed and alcohol, so what the fuck)

After several severe psychotic breaks, we finally managed to kick Clay out - but not after months of being severely traumatized, abused and gaslit daily.

Three years later, this shit still haunts me. I will never be the same. In truth, the person who originally inhabited this body [Dave] underwent such severe psychological trauma that he/we/I developed acute DID, underwent several splits, and the original person completely vanished. I'm actually writing this as a totally different person now [Derek]. He still sends my partner and I threatening texts, his parking tickets and violations in the mail, etc.

As recently as a few weeks ago (today is 4.5.23) he was sending K harassing texts.

TLDR: I got raped and abused by Dream Minecraft after he was bought out and replaced.

Please don't harass the current Dream over this, as he has nothing to do with what Clay did.

Shit he did:

Raped me and K

Financially abused us

Stole possesssions from us

Attempted to hoard animals in our home

Brought cocaine into the house

Threatened us with physical violence and assault

Threatened us with emotional abuse

Threatened us with legal action

Threatened us with Mr. Beast and his Youtube Connections

Tried to Bribe us with youtube connections

Gaslit us

Outed a closeted trans friend to his entire friend group

Beat K with a door

Chased teenagers and threatened them

Pretended to pull a gun on people multiple times

Reckless driving and endangerment

Stole food, items, money and alcohol

Promised to help financially support us, only to financially cripple us

Held the promise of money, medical support and housing over two severely disabled people

Refused to let people sleep if he was Upset

Purposefully triggered us in order to get a reaction out of us so he could turn around and yell "abuse"

PHYSICALLY Held K hostage several times

Tried to get us to both elope with him separately

I've also since connected with quite a few of his ex-romantic partners and friends. They confirm and corroborate the fact that he exhibited the exact same behaviors with them.

Maybe one day I'll compile all the discord chats and texts and shit into a google drive and post it for the world to see, but considering now I'm basically completely physically and mentally incapacitated - today is not that day.

Reblog this, don't reblog this. Blow this up, don't blow this up.

I don't fucking care anymore - I've paid my dues for this. I just want it off of my chest and off of my mind.

If you still have me on discord, feel free to ask about it.

Otherwise, people I haven't spoken to in over a year, I'll be removing you within the week.

Best Wishes to everyone except Clay,

Derek.

#dsmp #dream smp #dream #dream minecraft #mr. beast #mcyt #dreamwastaken #dreamminecraft #dreamsmp #minecraft youtuber #minecraft #youtube #youtuber

[fluff-n-feathers-20]

Hey all. I haven't been on tumblr in like 10 years. But I'm really dying to do a huskerdust rp after watching the show and was told this is a good place to look.

I have 15 plus years of experience rping and as I'm 30+ want someone that's 21+. No minors.

Looking for someone to play Husk as I've only done Angel. NSFW friendly! I'm super open to different themes like abuse, drug and alcohol use, toxic relationships, angst, slow burn, but enjoy fluff and romance to balance it out. I just don't pure smut.

I'm literate to novella. Normally writing between 3-5 paragraphs and really want my partner to be about the same.

I'm open to picking who will play all the other characters up front or we just both play them as needed (which is what I normally do).

I rp on discord just because it's easier. We can discuss plots and stuff and any triggers if you reach out or like and I'll dm you.

#rp finder #huskerdust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rp #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust rp #hazbin roleplay #angel dust rp #husk rp

[hotluncheddie]

Hi again!!! That’s so valid about not having any side blogs I’ve had the same blog for like 12 years and it just shifts with whatever I’m obsessed with at the time! I want to get more piercings now too I feel like it would improve my coolness level lol

Okay from the nosey list of you haven’t answered them already what about 3 11 12 and 21!!

*bites you back with affection chomp chomp chomp* <3

-🍯

✨"be nosy" questions✨

🍯!!! hiiiii!!!! <3

literally though, one blog is way more fun and easy!!

more cool piercings!!! u should!!! piercings honestly just look really nice imo that's why i have the amount i do - they're just pretty

...maybe do i need more

3. Ever done any drugs?

just weed... i'm sensitive so i just know if i did anything else the environment is really important so its not something im planning on any time soon. and i got paranoid a couple times after edibles so i just don't really do anything, not for years now

i like beer though :) and honestly use caffeine as a drug - if i get a certain itch i'll have none decaf and like not really sleep for a bit and the caffeine & sleep deprivation combined can sorta reset me in a way (idk if that makes sense to anyone else) (but like i said, i'm sensitive 👉👈)

11 & 12 are answered here <3

11 is deaf still the same - i want to stay in my room but i have to go to work :(

21. Describe your best friend.

i don't have a best friend but i will describe one of my lovely oldest friends. they're cool, and a really talented artist. theyre tall with dyed, short curly hair. they know a lot of random shit.

and a couple times i've been a little overwhelmed and kinda vented to them, and they just said, like 'wow yeah, i would be stressed too' and it was so like ??? profound to me at the time, i just felt very seen and understood - it wasn't about fixing the issue or understanding every part and every option and variable. it was just recognising that its there, seeing how you feel about it and you move on once your calm. i love them very much <3

#hotlunch #<3 #ask #🍯 anon #mwah!!! #its so fun - talking about myself lol

[depressopax]

First of all. Love, love your writing! It's so good!

Secondly, if I may request some Mike ehrmantraut headcanons with a lover(reader) who is about his age. Who is just as hardened by life (they both work for Fring) but is soft with Mike when the two get close. Thank you<3

Heyyy! THANK YOU SM for your kind words! 😭❤ I'm so glad you like my work ahhhh <3

And thanks for the request!! I had so much fun writing this. It's not the type of text and genre I usually write, so it was a fun challenge! Also, I know it said headcanons, but once I started writing I came up with a whole story lol

Hope you like it and have and AMAZING day <333

The things we do - Mike Ehrmantraut x gn! reader

Fandom - Better Call Saul

Pairing: Mike Ehrmantraut x gender neutral reader Genre: Feel good, fluff, hurt/comfort Warning(s): Mentions of grief, unemployment, divorce, mental health and growing up. Cuss words. Reader is gender neutral, is 50 y/o and has two kids.  Words: 1K Summary: As close as possible to the request! Reader is turning 50, Mike 60 y/o for this story. - You and Mike have been together for about a year. The two of you share so much experiences and can relate to one another. Both being older and working for Gus Fring, you make a good team, despite the scars from the past... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 AO3 link

“Hey… Cheer up! It’s your birthday tomorrow.” 

Mike says. You turn to give him a tired smile. It’s a rare thing to hear him be optimistic, but you love it.

“Yea… I’m just sour because she can’t be there.”

Your daughter is a free soul, ever since she was a kid, she had dreamt of a life away from Albuquerque. Now she’s 21 and studying abroad in the United Kingdoms. She was gonna travel back to New Mexico to celebrate your birthday, but with snowstorm chaos and exams coming up, she had to cancel. You’re not angry at her, rather sad, since you haven’t seen her in half a year. You still talk on the phone daily, despite the different time zones. At least you have your son, too. He’s 17, in high-school and lives at home with you, in a beautiful apartment on the calm streets of Albuquerque. You’re a bit paranoid, since you know the dangers of town. In your almost 50 years alive, you’ve seen and met many dangers. Keeping your kids safe has been the priority since. Being a single parent has made you even more protective of them. The divorce between you and your ex was bad and you haven’t heard from them since.

When Mike’s phone buzzes you feel relieved, happy to be distracted from your bitter thoughts. Since Mike is busy driving, you take his phone.

“It’s the boss”

“Can you reply?”

The two of you talk about it so casually, as if working as enforcers for a drug kingpin like Gus Fring is nothing weird. But to you and Mike it isn’t weird. 

Working for Gus is challenging and dangerous, so you’re happy to do it together with Mike. You know the risks of the work, but happily do it to provide for your kids. The things you do are for them. 

It’s been a year now, since the company you worked for shut down, and left you unemployed and in need of money. The only perks of having a criminal past is the work opportunity Gustavo Fring gave you.

That’s where you met Mike Ehrmantraut, an older ex-cop from Philadelphia, with a past just as fucked up as yours. 

At first you didn’t trust anyone in Gus' team, and to be honest? You weren’t really popular amongst your new colleagues. You were one of the oldest assets to the team, and your trust issues made it hard to get along with people. Luckily, Mike was the same. He was only a couple years older and just as “bitter” as you. The two of you went from sitting quietly next to each other, to exchanging a couple words to each other. One day, you took the courage and started a conversation with him, and some days later he kissed you. Since then, you and Mike have been inseparable. He is your partner in crime, literally, tho. You both struggle with guilt from the tasks you’re forced to do, but being together helps you both heal and forgive yourselves. 

“It’s just the things we do, for ourselves, and our families”

Mike usually says, giving you the reassurement you need. He’s been in this career for longer than you and knows his way around things. 

An odd pair, but still, you like to believe he’s your soulmate.

Mike can be very intimidating, and you too. So the two of you together tend to make people avoid your eyes. Your colleagues see you as the “grumpy old couple”, but to you, it’s the opposite. Mike makes you feel things you thought you could never feel again. He made you believe in love again. 

You answer the phone and recaps the completed mission for Gus, who seems satisfied with your work. As you hang up, you look at Mike.

“Fring told us we did a good job. Mission complete, as usual. Wanna celebrate?”

Mike chuckles.

“I thought you didn’t wanna celebrate?”

“I wasn’t talking about the birthday.”

“I think you’re having a mid-life crisis, y/n my dear”

You scoff at his words, even though it’s kinda true, but you can let him know that.

“I just don’t feel like celebrating.”

You don’t need to explain further, he knows what you mean. He doesn’t like celebrating birthdays either, since the loss of his son. 

He brings your hand to his lips, making you melt as he kisses your knuckles whilst driving through the cold night in Albuquerque. 

The sun almost blinds you when you blink your eyes open. The thin white curtains in your bedroom let in the morning sun. You let out an annoyed grunt. How many times haven’t you promised yourself to change curtains? You yawn as you turn around in bed, facing the left side, which is empty. 

“Mike?” 

You call out with a low, raspy voice. You start wondering if he had to leave early…

No, his phone is still on the nightstand. The door opens to the bedroom and he walks in, wearing a morning robe which originally is yours. You can’t help but smile.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. Happy birthday.”

Right… Your birthday.

“Let’s pretend I turn 40 and not 50, ok?”

He chuckles.

“Absolutely. I made you some coffee.”

As you get dressed, you get stuck by the mirror for a bit, noticing the love-drunk smile on your lips that doesn’t fade. It’s a change from your usual serious, almost intimidating expression. A good change.

Life hasn’t been easy and apart from the dangerous work for Fring which often makes you question yourself alot. Sometimes you wish that life was more normal, or that you could turn back time and do things differently. But not anymore. You’ve met your soulmates, after everything you’ve gone through. 

When you walk into the kitchen, Mike is already sitting in the kitchen, saying something that makes your son laugh. You smile at the sight, and look at your boyfriend, realizing that you love him, and you don’t wanna be without him. He always tells you how you made his life better, but he did the same to you. 

As you sit down with them, the thought of celebrating a birthday doesn’t seem to be so bad. You feel at peace. 

Crying shaking throwing up I love Mike THE WAY I SOBBED WHEN WRITING THIS 💀

#fanfic writing #breaking bad #better call saul #x reader #mike ehrmantraut #mike ehrmantraut x reader #ehrmantraut #mike ehrmantraut smut #mike ehrmantraut x gn!reader #fluff #feel good #hurt/comfort #light angst #angst with a happy ending #drabble #one shot #breaking bad fanfic #fanfic authors #brba #brbabcs #bcs #fanfiction writer #better call saul fanfic #fanficition #ao3 fanfic #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfic readers #fanfic writers #fanfics

[theonewhowannadie]

My life is great but I am depressed

My life is, I guess, really good : I have a family that is half good but it is still good, I have a girlfriend for almost 5 years now, I work part-time on weekends that makes me have a little bit of money to spend on hobbies ( a new Tv, vacations, and all that) while I’m doing studies of arts (specifically in cinema) so I guess I should not be complaining but, deep inside me I am feeling really sad about everything.

I listen to a lot of music, i have literally every single genre of music in my playlist, but the ones that I love the most are generally sad songs but not just sad songs, depressive songs, the ones that want you to kill yourself, the ones that wants to give up on everything and anythings like XXX, lil peep, spooky black or even Kurt Cobain. I feel like I just like sad music but I feel good being sad and depressed.

Even in everything I feel like I am not optimistic I have a low octave voice and I don’t put any effort in articulating my sentences. I feel bad in everything, I feel like I din’t deserve anything in my life that I let down my family just to go to study far away from them. I feel also betrayed by everyone (friends also) because I feel like anyone would leave me without hesitation so I don’t invest too much friendship because I’m scared to be left.

Even in my relationship I feel like I don’t deserve her: of course when we are happy together it’s amazing, but when we go through a crisis (I believe like itms in every couple) I feel like I can lose her at any minute or even any arguing. So I don’t do any efforts anymore until the good days come back by doing a little bit day by day (buying snacks for her, give her massages, etc..).

I started being like this when I was just 16, I started questioning myself and my existence and right after that (3-4 months) my girlfriend that I’ve been with for almost 2 years broke up with for another man (long distance relationship) after that we went into November and then I started being at the peak of my depression and followed taking soft and hard drugs (that I have never took before not even cigarettes) while going on high school and my parents did not notice anything because they didn’t care of me.

I can’t kill myself because I believe that I have a lot of responsibility in my life and a lot of people that like me and believe in me (the 3 friends that I have lol, and my family) but I would kill myself because I want it to stop (to clarify “it” is the sadness) but at the same time I wan to enjoy every little moment of life (to mention , I’m only 21 years old).

If you have any good advices, or experiences that could make me feel a little bit objective I won’t be able to thank you enough.

Merci.

#life is strange #real life #sadness #sorry for being depressing #depressed #sad #life #advice #reality #Spotify

[kepamount]

I posted 4,255 times in 2022

That's 4,255 more posts than 2021!

2,795 posts created (66%)

1,460 posts reblogged (34%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kepamount

@daydreamingleclerc

@neverinadream

@judeswhore

I tagged 3,006 of my posts in 2022

Only 29% of my posts had no tags

#blue moon 🌙 - 357 posts

#lovely anon xo - 340 posts

#loves &lt;3 - 84 posts

#🧜‍♀️ anon - 75 posts

#mason mount - 51 posts

#chelsea fc - 48 posts

#benluvbot 🤍🤍🤍 - 48 posts

#mason mount fanfic - 47 posts

#mason mount imagine - 47 posts

#mason mount fluff - 45 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#it’s easier to say ‘i’m from 15 minutes down the road from birmingham’ than it is to say ‘i’m from sandwell have you heard of it?’ 😭

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

You Right

kepa arrizabalaga, based on You Right by Doja Cat and The Weeknd - smut, fluff, angst (kinda)

Rating: M (minors, pls do not read this!!)

Word Count: 10.2k+ (i’m sorry 😭)

Warnings: alcohol consumption, strong language, toxic relationship, infidelity, flirting and sexual tension, explicit sex, pet names (in Spanish 😩), body worship (I think??? he kisses her all over lmaoo), fingering, dirty talk, praise and degradation, unprotected penetrative sex, exhibitionism, he gags y/n with his tie lol, choking, i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything pls!!

a/n: it’s finally here! first of all, my spanish is rusty so pls don’t judge if there’s anything mistakes 💀 second, this is a cheating fic so don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with infidelity! finally, please enjoy and lmk what you think!! <33

simi’s navigation

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288 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

#4

Blue Moon 🌙

Mason Mount social media au - e2l, comedy, crack humour, fluff, angst and smut

Rating: Mature (explicit smut, recreational drug usage, dirty humour, strong language)

y/n is fast becoming the ‘It Girl’ of her generation. A successful music career, critically-renowned performance skills, a wildly popular cosmetics company, brand partnerships piling up, and the ability to make something sell out just by mentioning it on her Twitter. With beauty, brains and a slightly terrible sense of humour, the whole world is falling more in love with her and her friends by the day. Well, almost the whole world. A certain Chelsea starboy doesn’t seem to share the same affections...

a/n: if you guys wanna be added to the taglist, just comment or drop me an ask!! hope you enjoy xo

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416 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#3

best mistake

universityjock!mason x cheerleader!y/n, loosely based on best mistake by ariana grande - smut, mild angst, a little bit of fluff if you squint

word count: 10.4k+

warnings: exes au, very toxic dynamic, strong language, threats of violence (y/n just wants to beat the shit out of mason), mason is a complete dickhead and a total pervert and an annoying little shit, sexual tension, dirty jokes, dirty talk, explicit sex, unprotected sex, hate sex but also not really hate sex, dom!mason and sub!reader, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, degradation and praise, pet names, choking, public sex, mild exhibitionism, standing sex, overstimulation, i'm pretty sure that's everything but lmk if you think i missed something!

a/n: hey guys! i literally wrote this in the last 24 hours so it's super rushed, pls ignore any mistakes bc it's not been properly proofread yet! i think i've decided to do the ariana grande series as individual stories, so this is the next instalment of the series! i rly hope you guys enjoy, lmk what you think! x

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482 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#2

goodnight n go

mason mount, based on 'goodnight n go' by ariana grande - fluff and angst

word count: 5.6k+ (i'm so sorry 😭)

a/n: pls ignore any mistakes, i haven't proofread properly yet 💀 i rly hope you guys enjoy, lmk what you think! &lt;3

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594 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

what we saw:

what they saw:

920 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#my top post is SENDING me i literally stole it from twitter 💀

[inkillable]

some thoughts re: laurie, allyson, and michael myers' overall character and existence being directly connected to The Final Girl™

i'm compliant with halloween 2018 & kills - so michael and laurie are not brother/sister for me. he simply saw her one day and became obsessed with her on first sight, which is the only thing draws him out of his house in 1978 and after her. and for me, this didn't happen because she was reminiscent of judith - it's because she was the opposite.

i think a lot about my heart is a chainsaw, and how it goes at length to speak of how the slasher cannot exist without the final girl, and that the slasher helps her transform into her complete, fully realized self. michael pursues laurie and draws her to act in violence against him because he knows they're equals - it's not a predator hunting prey. it's a dance. when he sees her in the window, he immediately recognizes that fact. the fact that he went home and was immediately drawn out of it because of laurie? yeah. why else would he have continued? likewise re: allyson.

and i think without having this Object of Obsession (lmao) michael has no standing as a character for me. it's what made halloween kills, beyond reading heavily into it re: michael possibly feeling the same level of obsession toward allyson hence not killing her on the 3-4 occasions in which he could have, feel extremely pointless and empty to me. not a huge fan of the idea of michael killing Just Because He's Evil, yk. like yes. he IS evil incarnate, but he's obsessive and an unstoppable force once he's dedicated to something - or someone. to what purpose? who knows.

the 2018 novelization implies he saw allyson running on halloween morning on lampkin lane and subsequently felt watched throughout the day. michael slowly picked off her friends, then killed her father, then her boyfriend, then her mother. it's all very, very intentional, and the cycle continuing albeit in a much more brutal manner because he's been lying in wait for 40 years. he's angry, repressed, and more violent and powerful than he was in 1978.

and so this is why allyson specifically is extremely important to my interpretation of michael and why i was heavily disappointed by ends. the only thing i really take from it is that michael was willing to work with corey to find allyson until he led him to where she is, which made him disposable to michael (hence why he killed him immediately).

all of this being said, i truly do think michael spent the 40 years he was incarcerated thinking about laurie. which is why, in the 2018 novelization, he still thinks of himself as a 21-year-old and laurie as 17, and the passage of time means nothing to him because he hasn't developed cognitively whatsoever. the only times in which he's truly been lucid ---- between the extremes of loomis drugging him into a catatonic state vs. sartain most likely not medicating him at all and endlessly enabling him ---- has been in pursuit of laurie.

considering it's been over 50 years since he killed judith--and he was literally in kindergarten when it happened--i don't even know if michael remembers killing judith at all. i don't even think 6-year-olds understand the meaning or permanence of death. so yes, i do definitely think by 2018, michael would not remember judith's death much if at all and is likely returning home (again) to look for her and look out her window (the compulsive need to look out her window, it's the mental illness innit love) vs. his original intent on recreating his first murder in 1978 with laurie's friends ---- but by that point, i think he returned home both to return to judith's room and also to lure allyson or laurie to him at that point.

#human shaped. #copy + pasting from my multi but. yeah. #tl;dr give me that Final Girl content

[capricornwriter5]

You are the one - Chapter 21

Pairing: Bang Chan x female OC; Lee Know x female OC

Genre: au (high shool, college), love triangle, fluff, angst, smut, from friends to lovers. ⚠️Warning: soft drugs

Words: 6k

Summary: Bang Chan and Jasmine have been best friends for as long as they can remember. With little time to finish high school, they both begin to develop romantic feelings. However, family situations and communication issues force them to move away. Once in college, they decide to try to regain the friendship they had. As Bang Chan sees the opportunity to finally be with the girl he has always loved, his friend Lee Know, who had been studying in England, returns home and the connection he develops with Jasmine is undeniable. Can the chemistry and attraction with Lee Know outweigh a tender first love and memories of years of friendship between Bang Chan and Jasmine?

Disclaimer: I named the character Jasmine (Minnie for Chan 🥰) because I love that name. Besides, it’s easier if we want to see Chan saying cute names (it’s better than just Y/N, I think) but you can totally picture yourselves in the story, that’s the idea. <3

Chapter 21 - The Three Sighs

Lee Know's apology came the next day as he was walking with Jaz after they had bought a hot chocolate so they could enjoy them while walking. 

The girl warmed her hands with her drink until Lee Know took her hand and holding it, he slipped it inside his coat. It was a typical gesture of him, although Lee Know was not characterized by being very expressive or affectionate, Jaz knew that as soon as they left the house, the photographer took her hand and made sure to have her close at all times. Maybe it was his jealous nature and even a little possessive, or maybe it was because when he wanted to he could be very sweet, but whatever the reason, that day Lee Know couldn't get his girl to smile at him, it was OBVIOUS that Jaz was still upset with him.

"Listen, kitten, I think I screwed things up yesterday." Lee Know stopped walking and the girl did the same when she heard that, to tell the truth, she didn't expect him to realize his mistake, and that wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for Chan practically slapping him last night with his comment. "I'm sorry."

Jaz nodded and waited for him to continue talking, at least a question related to how she felt; however, Minho was not that type of person, he though that an apology was enough to forget an error. Therefore, it was nothing weird for him just to take out Jaz's hand and kissed it.

"Then... we're fine, right?"

"Sure, just don't make me decorate again, please."

"I promise."

Jaz tried to convince herself that she was exaggerating and that she didn't have to expect Lee Know to behave like Chan, they were totally different people, and logically their relationship would also be different. So, the girl smiled at the photographer and kept walking with him while listening to him talk about how the gallery was going and other things. Also, Minho told her that for Christmas and New Year he would travel to England with his grandparents, something that excited him a lot because they had not gone for years. 

**********

Not only was Lee Know excited about the date, but Romy was also, so much so that for the first time in a long time she asked Minho's grandparents for the afternoon off to go with Jaz to buy some things she needed.

That day, Romy literally pulled her best friend out of the library to come with her, she didn't even tell Jaz where they were going. "That's enough, there's NO ONE in the library studying these days, only you. You're going to get out of there, you're going to love where we're going." Said the girl pushing Jaz.

"Why are you so hyped? Shouldn't you be working?"

"I asked for the day, I won't be able to go to Felix's dinner and I feel really bad, so I thought I could send something, a few desserts sound good."

"Right, Felix's dinner is this week."

"Don't tell me you won't go. Jaz, it's FELIX! Are you hard-hearted enough to say no to him?"

"You won't go either"

"Because I can't, I have a family activity that day, and it's not that I'm dying to see my stupid brothers, but I have no choice, I don't want to listen to my parents talking about the same thing for a whole year. But you could go and have a good time. Or do you want Felix to attack you with videos where he comes out crying because you told him no?"

"He already started," Jaz showed her the conversation with Felix, which was full of short videos of the boy complaining and making himself cry. "Even so, I think I'll stay home. But don't make that face at me! I can go with you to buy what you need." Jaz covered herself with her arms before getting a punch from Romy.

After walking several streets, they arrived at a shop, there was so much to choose from that Jaz laughed at the sight of her friend going crazy and taking a little bit of everything.

"What are you supposed to cook?"

"A few desserts, but the best will be the cookies, no one else knows the recipe," Romy assured winking at her.

"Cookies? Changbin loves them, he'll be the first to eat them, especially when he knows that you made them." Jaz joked raising her eyebrows.

Romy's reaction was so radically different than she would have had at any other time, that Jaz misplaced a fruit and almost caused a mess. Her friend was LAUGHING at a comment involving Changbin, that was definitely something new.

"Just another random comment... Changbin loves nuts." Jaz whispered into her friend's ear. "Something you could consider now that you're choosing ingredients." Before Romy could tell her to stop, Jaz was already on her way to the exit door. "While you're still shopping, I'll go check out the bookstore next door."

**********

Meanwhile, Jasmine was looking through the art books they had in the bookstore, but being such a small place, it didn't surprise her that it was just one shelf dedicated to art. In the next one, she saw books on biology, mathematics, languages, ​​and finally, a very small section on astronomy. It was not a subject that interested her much, although she had read more books on the topic than she could number. At school, she had bought several to understand a little better what Chan talked about during those nights they passed hours looking at the sky.

There were others books she had already read in the school library with Chan. It was inevitable that Jaz smiled slightly as she remembered herself trying to find the shape of the constellations and asking Chan every two minutes what certain words that appeared in the books meant. The girl even laughed remembering when they were in the third year and the librarian scolded them a lot when he saw that they had scratched a book. Jaz had been reading a book in which the images were of poor quality and she did not understand a thing. In the end, Chan had decided to give her a hand and drew on top of the photographs so that his best friend could identify the stars.

Jasmine knew every book on that shelf except one with a white cover decorated with scarlet letters. Just opening it, a sigh escaped her lips, they were photos of buildings whose ceilings were decorated with paintings related to astronomy. From very old buildings to much more modern ones, pages and pages of amazing pictures.

"Chris would go crazy over this." Jaz thought smiling, it would be the PERFECT gift.

Finally, after two years, Jasmine was genuinely excited to buy a gift, but when she was in front of the cashier, reality kicked her. Why would she buy it if she didn't even talk to Bang Chan?

**********

The girls visited three other locations on streets Jaz didn't know they exist. However, Romy's tour was getting difficult to handle for the numerous bags both girls needed to carry. 

"For fuck's sake, Romy! Are going to open a bakery? I can't stand my arms, please tell me that you already got everything." They had stopped to eat something, but they had so many bags that the girls had needed two more chairs for Romy to put everything. 

Just when Romy was giving the bad news that she still needed to go to two other places, some of her bags fell down. Jaz tried to help her, but she stopped when she discovered something that made her smirk.

"Just look who bought two extra bags of nuts! Wait! Where are you going? Romy, don't go! Why do you always do that?"

"I have to go get food." She answered getting up quickly and even hitting her knee on the table by trying to escape.

**********

Christmas dinner at Felix's house could not be cozier, the boy literally received all his friends with scarves, sweaters, hot chocolate, and even Christmas hats. Felix's charm had a special effect on all his friends, he even managed to get Hyunjin to change his designer coat for the Christmas sweater that Felix had given him. No one imagined seeing Hyunjin in a sweater knitted with Christmas llamas.

Felix had put so much effort in that night that he had innumerable snacks, board games, and movies. He even played Christmas music in order to make that night unforgettable for his friends. The only thing Felix had not done was the main dish, as Lee Know made him promise to let him help him with that.

"Felix is ​​going to die when he finds out you came." Lee Know said smiling at Jaz as they waited for the boy to open the door for them.

After much thought, Jaz concluded that maybe Minho was right and it was time to make new memories at Christmas time, plus she didn't want to disappoint Felix, so she ended up accepting.

"Min, before we go in, I have something to ask you."

"Sure, kitten, whatever you want."

"I'm making an effort to be here and celebrate these dates with all of you, but don't leave me alone. It's not easy for me" 

For a moment Jaz convinced herself that Minho just decided to ignore her for he did not articulate a sound; however, there was no need for saying anything, since the way the photographer kissed her, seizing the time they had before someone opened the door, left Jazz speechless. 

"I promise you I'll be by your side; if you want, we can leave a little earlier." Jaz nodded with a smile that grew even bigger when hearing Hyunjin's scream at seeing her there. The boy opened the door waiting to see Lee Know, but definitely not Jaz. 

"FELIX, LOOK WHO CAME!" The voice volume in that shout was loud enough to make Han throw a control into the air and almost hit Changbin.

Jaz couldn't take a single step inside the house because of Felix's hug. And it is that not only he, but the others also did the same. After two long years, their friend had finally decided to celebrate Christmas with them.

Chan stood the last watching as everyone greeted her. The boy smiled even more than the rest to see her there, laughing with her friends and wearing the headband with reindeer antlers that Felix had put on her. He was happy for Jaz, of course, he was even going to walk over to greet her, but he saw how Lee Know pushed Han to let Jazmine breathe. Chan also saw how the photographer brought her closer to him, and as much as he didn't want to, that bothered him. Chan also couldn't help but think that the one who had convinced her to go was Lee Know. How did Lee Know had achieved such a thing? It was at that moment that Chan stopped his thoughts and reproached himself for how jealous and immature he was being. 

After a while, Jaz had handed Felix what Romy had sent and sat down with the rest of the boys to watch Han and Hyunjin play a videogame; or rather, to see how Han beat up Hyunjin in the game.

"Felix, do you need help with anything?" The girl asked when the blond sat down next to her.

"Don't worry, stay here watching Hyunjin's humiliation while I take care of the food with Lee Know."

"Forget it, you must be the one who sits, you've done too much already, I'll cook with Lee Know, it can't be that bad, I'm used to it, one more day won't hurt me," Seungmin said dodging a pillow that was going straight for his face, clearly, Lee Know had thrown it at him.

While Felix's house wasn't as huge as Changbin's or Chan's, it was spacious enough so the group could be doing multiple activities at the same time. That was how Changbin and Jaz ended up having a little smoke next to a window while Han, Chan, Hyunjin, and Felix organized a wildly complicated board game. To tell the truth, it wouldn't have been so complicated if they hadn't listened to Hyunjin, who swore he knew the rules, but the truth was that he had never played it.

"Hurry up, we're going to get Felix in trouble," Jaz said as his friend tried to smoke a little but the wind kept blowing out what he had in his hand. "Muscles, hurry up!"

"Shut up! You're making me nervous so I can't light anything! Also, there's too much wind, cover it up."

"Sure, Changbin, just let me take out the curtain that I have hidden under my dress." She said taking him by the shoulders and turning him around so the wind wouldn't hit him in the face. "Are you sure you haven't lost too many brain cells by smoking?"

"No, I'm perfect." He responded by releasing a lot of smoke, but inadvertently released it in the girl's face, who didn't know whether to kill him right there or simply ignore what had happened.

"At moments like this, I wish Han would spit on you again." 

While they continued smoking and joking around, Chan looked at them out of the corner of his eye and wondered if he should get closer, but seeing Jaz smile like that at such a time, he decided that it was best to stay where he was, he didn't want to awaken painful memories.

"Hey, by the way, did I tell you I brought cookies from Romy?"

"Cookies?" He asked with a rather sharp tone of voice, he didn't know if it was because of the emotion from the drug.

"And you want me to tell you a secret? But you have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I swear on my dignity."

"You don't have it, swear by something with value."

"Okay, I swear on my new weights."

Thanks to Changbin's stupid answer, they had to wait for a few minutes for both of them to stop laughing and recover their breath, but when they did, the girl came over with a mischievous smile and said something to him that made Changbin's ears get red.

"Romy added extra nuts...and I don't think it was a fluke." Within seconds, Changbin had already disappeared into the kitchen looking for the cookies.

Jaz looked at him with a smile, she was sure that Changbin liked her friend, something told her that. Certain lovely behaviors of Changbin made Jaz smile wistfully, as it reminded herself before starting dating Chan. Almost immediately her gaze fixed on his friend's back since Chan was sitting in such a way that he couldn't see her, but Jaz could hear his laughter perfectly, and when he turned around a little, she could see his face. He looked well, remarkably well, in fact. Jaz could not recognize a single trace of sadness in him like before. On the one hand, she was happy, but on the other, she felt glum to confirm that she had been the one who for so long stole the smiles of her best friend.

Not for nothing had they been best friends since they were children. Chan and Jaz not only knew the slightest detail from each other, but they also think the same, for Chan assumed exactly the same thing. Seeing her there on that date had made him convince himself of how good it had been for Jaz that the two of them distanced themselves.

However, there were three body expressions almost imperceptible to anyone that made Jaz doubt the authenticity of Chan's joy. Three sighs, to be more exact. The first occurred while Felix, Han, and Hyunjin were reading the instructions of the game for the last time. Chan leaned back on the couch to take a sip of his drink, and as he did so, just when he thought no one was looking, his mask cracked just a little and Jaz watched as he sighed at the drink in his hand. But almost immediately the boys called him and he regained the sparkle in his eyes.

The second sigh came when Lee Know and Seungmin returned to the room. They had left the food in the oven and while it finished cooking they would open presents. Naturally, Jaz would not participate in the distribution, since they would do it through a game and the girl refused to participate weeks ago. However, that didn't stop Jasmine from enjoying seeing her friends discovering who was their secret Santa. She especially laughed when everyone found out Hyunjin was the person who gave the present to Chan. 

Hyunjin had bought Chan a fancy hoodie, which, although it had no decorations and was completely black, was from an Italian designer.

"This is my way to ask you not to lose it! The last time I was at your house, you only had one and it was dirty. Where the hell did you put the others?" Hyunjin said making Chan laugh, it was true, he had lost a lot. But a large number of them were not lost, they were at Jaz's house. 

There was a microsecond, just the tiniest speck of time when Jaz noticed Chan's somber gaze, but then he was back to his old self when he handed the gift to Felix.

The third sigh came later.

The distribution of gifts coincided when Felix's parents arrived home. The couple had been doing some shopping and had planned to leave them there before going out again, as they would attend a dinner. However, they took the opportunity to greet their son's friends. Before leaving, the boy's mother made sure everyone had their sweaters on, that they were warm, and that they had something to eat. The woman was adorable, and Jaz thought of her mother, how alone she must be at that moment and how much she had changed in those two years. Yes, it had been difficult for Jaz, the whole divorce situation, but it had been difficult for her mother as well.

The memory of her mother caused Jaz to feel a lump in her throat as she watched Felix's mother leaving the house. A few years ago that woman was her mother at one of her many Christmas dinners.

Fortunately, Han asked her to go with him to get more punch and Jaz followed him to the kitchen, where she knew she'd find Lee Know. The girl had been surprisingly strong all night, but now she needed the photographer.

"Hi, handsome. Do you need help with that?" She asked approaching him but he was so focused on looking through the glass of the oven that he shook his head negatively. "Do you want me to help you with something?"

"It's okay, I'll take care of it. Go with the others."

"But I want to be with you, you've been here all night." Jasmine approached to hug him from behind but in doing so, Lee Know moved abruptly, it was not because he wanted to get away from her, but because he had opened the oven and so much smoke came out that he moved Jaz so that the steam would not hit her in the face.

"Shit, shit, shit! The food got burned!" He said as Seungmin practically ran in, the boy had been bringing some knives that he had left on the table when he smelled the smoke.

"Don't worry, it's not that much, I think it's less than half." Assured Seungmin trying to help Lee Know.

"Yes, Min, we can cut the burned part."

"No, we can't, the food won't be enough.  Fuck!"

"I can buy something else." Jaz tried to offer but Lee Know kept saying no and insisted on checking the meat to see how much was edible. "Min, while you do that with Seungmin, I'll go buy more food."

"No no, Jazmine, that doesn't make any sense, I don't have time to prepare more food."

"Well, I can eat something else."

"Me too," Seungmin said. "That way the burned part can be mine and Jaz's and there won't be anything to worry about."

"I'll go get my bag." 

Once Jasmine went out of the kitchen, Seungin grabbed Lee Know's shoulder. "Hey, this was just an accident, don't stress too much" However, Lee Know looked at him in a threatening way because he had just realized that they had not used an ingredient in the sauce and the recipe had possibly been spoiled.

For her part, Jaz was about to take her wallet out of her bag when she noticed something, her wrist, there was something strange with her wrist. She was used to the gleam her watch produced with something else, something that wasn't there.

"NO!" She said when she noticed that the bracelet that her father had given her was missing.

Chan was talking to Han in the living room when he saw how the girl took everything out of her bag and was desperately looking for something. Almost immediately Chan saw her enter the kitchen and waited for her to come out since it was obvious that something was wrong with her.

"Min, have you seen my bracelet?" Jaz asked touching the arm of the photographer, who was doing his best to fix the sauce.

"What? Jaz, which bracelet are you talking about?"

"My flowers bracelet, I can't find it. Tell me you have it, please!" 

Minho looked at her strangely, he didn't understand why she cared so much about a simple accessory. "Precious, I don't even know what you're talking about."

"The bracelet that dad gave me, Lee Know, I can't find it!" The anxiety and terror she felt at having lost the bracelet caused Jaz to lose control and speak louder than normal.

"Jazmine, relax, it's a bracelet! Can't you see I'm trying to rescue everyone's dinner? That's more important than an accessory!"

"Minho, this it's important to me! I don't want to lose it, please help me" She asked with a slightly broken voice.

"Go help her, I'll take care of the food." Seungmin offered, anyone could see how desperate she was feeling. 

Seungmin only needed to see the anguish with which the girl asked her boyfriend for help to get how important that bracelet was for her; unfortunately, the same did not happen with Lee Know.

"I'm finishing this and then, I'll help her," Minho answered the boy. "Jaz, tell one of the others to help you. And if you can't find it, don't worry, precious, I'll buy you one, okay?"Jaz didn't want to stay there for a second longer and before Seungmin or Lee Know could notice, she had already opened the door that connected to the garden. 

The girl would walk the garden and the entrance of the house if necessary, but she would find that bracelet. She had been taking care of it for YEARS, it couldn't be that she lost it like that. The desperation to find it made Jaz go out in the snow, without gloves, without a scarf, without her coat, and practically crawled looking for the bracelet. However, the more she looked for it, the more snow fell and the more she was convinced that she would not find it. She could have lost it before getting to Felix's house.

If Jaz had really misplaced it, she would never forgive her, it was the only thing she had left from her father, literally the only gift she hadn't thrown away. Everything else that had come from her father, she had thrown it away some time ago, photos, drawings, clothes, EVERYTHING except for that bracelet. Jaz took the decision of tossing everything after the prom. The girl had turned her room upside down taking out everything her father had given her. His mother and Chan did everything to change her mind, so much so that Chan had even tried to take the boxes out of the trash, but Jaz had been too stubborn and ended up throwing everything away.

Now, exactly what her mother and Chan had warned her about was happening: she regretted it. Now, under the snow, she felt her tears fall uncontrollably at the thought that she had lost the last thing she had left of her relationship with her father.

Jaz's mind was so focused on torturing her for her decisions that she didn't hear the footsteps of someone approaching. It wasn't until she heard her name that she didn't realize there was a person under the snow accompanying her.

"Minnie? What are you doing out here? It's too cold, what are you doing on the floor?" Chan hadn't heard her cry, but when he got in front of her and saw her face, his instinct to protect her came out automatically. He already suspected that something was wrong when he saw her emptying her bag, but he never expected to find her crying like that. "What happened?! Minnie, you're frozen!" He took off his coat and placed it on her shoulders.

"My bracelet, I lost it." 

"The bracelet your father gave you?" Chan asked taking her wrist and noticing that she wasn't wearing it.

Seeing Chan there was enough for Jasmine to stop crying and think things clearly. Feeling him touch her again brought the girl back to earth. 

She wiped her face as she nodded. "It doesn't matter anymore, Chris, I'm not going to find it."

"Of course it matters! You love that bracelet, it can't be lost just like that."

"Chris..."

"I'll find it." He said with total certainty, Chan was serious and Jazmine knew him well enough to know that when he spoke with that decision, he fulfilled anything.

What Chan couldn't do was get Jaz back inside, and the two of them searched for the accessory together. The girl had no hope of finding it, and even though Chan lent her his coat, the snow was making her hands hurt a lot.

"Chris, let's get inside. Chris?" She asked turning around and looking for him. "Chris?"Jaz called again a little louder.

Chan came out of some bushes quite disheveled and with a dirty shirt. He was adjusting his clothes, so Jaz didn't see his face until he was close. 

"Let's..." Jaz didn't finish speaking, for Chan had taken her hand and with a smile that she could never forget, he placed the bracelet back on her.

Words failed Jaz to thank Chan for what he had done, there was absolutely nothing she could say to show how grateful she was and Chan knew it, so he smiled at her in that way that got to caress Jaz's heart.

"The clasp is loose, be careful." He said trying not to look her in the eyes, he felt too many things in his chest when he did so.

Chan knew that at another time he would have the girl hugging him, possibly covering his face with kisses and thanking him over and over again for helping her, but not tonight, not anymore. However, just as Chan longed to feel that hug, Jaz also felt such a need to put her arms around him, but she had to control herself.

That's when Jaz heard Chan's third sigh that was practically yelling at her that her ex-boyfriend wasn't as good as he wanted to appear.

"Chris, I don't know how to thank you, I thought I'd never see it again."

"You don't have to thank me for anything, I know what it means to you."

"Your hair is soaked, your back too." She said trying to take off her coat but Chan didn't let her.

"I'm fine, keep it." He said with a slight smile. "In fact, we'd better go inside or the others will worry."

Jaz nodded, but she didn't want to miss this opportunity to talk to him, at least check on him, and before Chan opened the door, she placed her hand on the knob, causing him to look at her as if to ask what was going on.

"Wait... I haven't heard from you in a long time. How are you?"

Chan took a few seconds to answer, he thought carefully about what he would say. He had a lot to tell, from work to family, but he also wanted to know about her and time was running out for them before someone came looking for them.

"I'm so silly, I'm sorry I shouldn't ask you that when you're freezing here. I think this isn't a good time to talk." She said very embarrassed and trying to open the door herself, but this time it was Chan who avoided it.

"I'm fine, Minnie, even things with my parents are going well. Last week I had lunch with dad, I think we're finally finding a way to talk like civilized people."

"Chris, that's wonderful! I'm so glad... you look... you look good."

"How are you?" He asked before giving her time to discover the truth of how he truly felt. "I was shocked to see you here today, but I was also happy. I mean... these times can be a little difficult, but you decided to leave home, that's awesome."

"Yes, I think it was about time; besides, Lix wouldn't have forgiven me if I didn't come." She said laughing next to him. "With the classes, well... it's been complicated, I have a lot of work with, and keeping the scholarship isn't that easy."

"You're an excellent student, I have no doubt that you'll get it. You even got me into college when I was practically expelled." He said trying to make her smile.

"And about the rest... it seems that our parents finally understood what we needed. Your father got closer to you and mine never wrote to me again."

"Minnie..." He instantly noticed that something was wrong with her.

"Chan, Jaz! What the hell happened to you two?" Felix asked opening the door and meeting them. "My God, Chan, you're soaking wet! Jaz, your lips are practically purple! Didn't you realize how cold it is, are you dead or just super high?" He asked taking them by the shoulders and pushing them inside.

While Felix gave Jazmine his room to dry her hair, the boy took Chan into the guest room and brought him another sweater so he could change it.

"Does it fit you?"

"I already told you not to worry, and yes, it fits me. Better go to Minnie, she'll need something to wear."

"I came from there but she sent me here with you." He said very frustrated. "It's fucking difficult to take care of you two. To be the parents of the group you are too stubborn."

**********

"Well, the sauce tastes good, we managed to rescue the meat, I think everything is under control... That was difficult." Lee Know commented pouring himself some water.

"Hey, I really don't want to butt in, and I don't want you to get upset about this but..."

"Now what are you going to tell me? I know I had to come to check the food earlier."

"It's not from the food, it's from Jaz. I think she was asking you for something really important to her, she looked worried."

"Shit... you're right, I forgot."

Minho left the kitchen and was going so fast that he hit Felix, who was just walking with Chan to the living room.

"Hey! If you had come with a knife, you'd have killed me. Is everything alright?" Felix asked.

"Sorry, it was crazy in there, I screwed up and lost a part of dinner, but Seungmin already helped me. Have you seen Jaz? I haven't seen her in a while and I need to talk to her."

Chan looked at him seriously and as if Felix knew what was going through his mind, he surreptitiously placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. Chan obviously had no idea what had happened between Lee Know and Jaz but his overprotective instinct made him assume there was something else going on.

"She's in my room," Felix said giving him space and asking Chan just with a look, to calm down.

**********

By opening the door of the room, Lee Know found his girlfriend lost on the cell phone, he did not know what he was doing, and he could not see either because when he sat next to her, she blocked it.

"Hi..." Minho said adjusting her hair and noticing that it was damp. "What happened?"

"That my boyfriend's an asshole and I went out to look for my bracelet alone." 

"You're right, your boyfriend's a jerk, but he's sorry." He said taking her hand again since Jaz had moved it from her. "I'm really sorry. I was so stressed about dinner that I didn't think about anything else."

"This is not the first time this has happened, Lee Know, you're not alone, you don't live alone in the world, you have people around you who also have problems and who need you. I understand if because of what happened in your home and because of your way of being you learned to be independent, but that's not how things work in the real world, much less in a relationship."

Although Jaz's words may have seemed a bit rude, the truth was that they were precisely what Minho needed to hear. Of course, it was not that easy for him, it was his first relationship, and it was the first time a person dared to tell him something like that. 

"Anyway, let's go downstairs, it's time for dinner."

"What were you doing a moment ago with your cell phone?"

"I doubt you care," Jaz said getting up from the bed.

"Come on, Kitten, I'm trying. I made a mistake, but I'm learning."

Jaz sighed and almost immediately the photographer hugged her, laying his head on her chest. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I made you decorate last time, I'm sorry your bracelet was lost, and I'm even more sorry I didn't help you find it." He whispered before kissing the top of her head. "I'm serious, Jay. Let's go find it."

"I already found it, or rather, Chris found it."

"Chan helped you?"

"He saw me looking for it and helped me." 

The boy's first reaction was to get defensive, and Jasmine felt it from the way he straightened his shoulders; however, he was smart enough to control himself. If he complained about anything from Jaz, it would start another argument between them and it was the last thing he wanted right now. He had already screwed things up twice enough to do it a third time; besides, he knew that the bracelet was important to the girl, so he just closed his eyes and calmed down. After all, he had to trust her and his friend.

"I'm glad you found it, next time I'll help you, I promise."Jaz looked up and saw that he was serious. Not wanting to start another argument, the girl believed him and nodded her head. "Well... will you tell me what you were doing with the cell phone, what had you so focused on?" It was not easy for Jasmine to open up to Lee Know that night because she still doubted that he could understand her and that he would end up minimizing, once again, what she felt, but in the end, she unlocked the cell phone and showed him what she had been seeing, it was the conversation with his father.

8:15 p.m. Jaz. "Hello. Can we talk?"

The message wasn't sent yet, she had just written it but Lee Know interrupted her before sending it. 

"It's not like I want to talk to him, but I want to ask him to talk to mom. Even though they're not together, mom still listens to him, and maybe if he tells her, she'll go back to her therapy, or she'll accept to live with my aunt, I don't know..."

"I didn't know something was happening with your mom."

"I tried to tell you the day we decorated."

"Shit..."

At that moment Lee Know understood everything much better and even got to blame himself for how stupid and selfish he had been that day, but since he couldn't change what had happened, he focused on what was currently happening.

"There's nothing wrong if you want to talk to him, kitten. It's normal that you miss him, more on these dates."

"I don't miss him."

"You're using the topic of your mother as an excuse. Don't get me wrong, I know you genuinely care about her and want your dad to help her, but deep down, you want to talk to him."

"Let's talk about this another day. I'm hungry, and the rest must be waiting for us to eat." The best decision in these situations was not to force anyone and give the person time to act until they felt comfortable and ready, so Lee Know nodded and went down with her.

**********

Later, when everyone had returned home, Hyunjin noticed that it wasn't late and decided to work on a design that he had left incomplete to go help Felix. The blond, for his part, picked up everything his friends had left behind after dinner; even though everyone had helped him, there were still several things left. However, it did not bother him, he had had all his friends gathered in his home as he had wanted. Meanwhile, Seungmin had never had a Christmas dinner with friends, he would definitely treasure it that night. Han and Changbin had returned home with Chan and the first two were chatting about how delicious the food had been and, as expected, Changbin commented a lot on Romy's cookies, causing Han to bully him. Lee Know had come straight to see his cats and finish packing, he had nothing ready and was leaving in two days.

While the whole group of friends rested comfortably, Chan didn't even try to sleep, he knew he wouldn't make it, it would be another sleepless night, but this time his inability to sleep wouldn't be because of the numerous things he had to do, but because he didn't stop looking at the shelf next to his bed where he had kept something for several days. Bang Chan knew that if he opened the first drawer, the first thing he would see would be the set of brushes he had had made for Jaz.

Among all the artists he had met, there was a woman who carved wood, her botanical-themed decorations had impressed him. That was how he asked her to carve the handles of the brushes for Jaz.

***********

A few days ago, Han and Changbin were at home finishing some homework when Chan walked in. They hadn't seen him since the day before, but they weren't surprised, his friend worked like crazy, studied until his headache forced him to stop, and drank and partied like there was no tomorrow. They never really knew if the tiredness they saw on his face was because he had stayed up late at a party, or because he had been working. But what they could tell was that they would never forget how his eyes grew emptier that afternoon when Han told him there was a package for him.

"I don't remember ordering anything." He commented approaching the table.

"It looked expensive, open it carefully," Han said turning to Changbin to try to see what it was, lately his friend had become very sensitive about his privacy and they knew that if they got up to snoop around, he would send them back to the couch with a look.

The box was quite heavy and very well protected, anyone couldn't even suspect its contents until the papers and plastic around it were removed. But when Chan did it, when he saw the artist's logo and opened the lid just a little, he closed it immediately.

"What is it, can we see it?" Changbin asked, who didn't get an answer, he could only see his friend's face before he took the box and locked himself in his room.

Han and Changbin looked at each other, they had been worried about their friend for some time, but neither dared to say anything out loud, it was as if they were afraid to accept that something was wrong. In addition, Chan was not easy to read because when one of them dared to try to comment on something, Chan looked as smiling and animated as ever.

***********

At the same time that Chan took the gift out of the drawer and saw how beautiful those brushes were, Jaz had in her hands that book on astronomy and buildings, she had bought it, of course she had. However, she hadn't been able to give it to Chan, just as she couldn't return all the hoodies she still had from Bang Chan.

To be continued... 🐺

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[monumentalslutt]

i have no randoms rn apart from one that’s kinda started chatting to me, he is👷‍♂️, 👷‍♂️ is asleep and he’s not that cool yet bcs he only just started textin me and we snap like too and (THIS I AM PROBABLY STUPID FOR HAHAHA but i don’t care i send full face snaps to the weirdos too bcs it’s like i literally have only ever seen black screen or bros ugly dick so idc if they see my face, plus i just snap everyone photos of my full face bcs like idc that much so most of the time i have no idea what they look like but they very much know what i look like ) anyways yeah so he’s only just started actually sending texts to me bcs ain’t no way ima text a random first wtfff i’ll accept their friend requests but unless they snap me or text me i ain’t hitting none of em up anyways yeah so idk how cool he is but he send me photos of some weed plant so he pre chill all the cool randoms have cool drug stories and most of the time i prefer when they don’t send their face because they’re so creepy or weird looking half the time that it irks me and makes me feel like i should block them HAHAHA and bcs most of the time they’ve also been the swnd their dick type snapchat weirdos so yeah 😢 👷‍♂️ is some 21 year old in germany HAHAHA bcs i never have multiple at the same time bcs like i only need one person to talk to i’m not a friend whore HAHAHA and idk i don’t wanna have to awkwardly get to know someone else when i’m already comfy with this random person in my telephone, but i also do have attachment issues so i think this might be a me thing idk. but idk most these randoms never be lasting long they always end up just vanishing which is upsetting why can’t any of them stick around mate, there’s one lowkey random his emoji can be 🔪 we literally barely talk but we have like over a 200 day snap streak and his snaps aren’t like dry BUT IVE NEVER SEEN HIS FACE HAHAHA and idk his name i cant find him on any social media but i do think he’s an eshay and LATELY WEVE HAD A FOUPLE conversations and he’s a funny little guy anyways i always send my face so he’s been seeing my face for 200 days and never blocked me so that’s nice i will be extremely upset if he stops snapping me. but i also have never seen his face and have no idea how old this guy even is so idk but still it’s cool 😎 anyways rn i don’t habe a favourite random bcs they’ve all just vanished HAHAHAHA so where the new randoms at sordy i gave in and had a cone even though i said i wouldn’t this morning

[fierypearls]

Feeding my soul.

Hard to be open and transparent when penning down words publicly, but I want to try doing so today.

June 1st was my birthday. As the month of June wrapped up, I was reflecting on how my birthday month went, and if I did anything worthwhile this month. I was also reflecting more broadly on a few other things like what am I doing to leave this world a better place than I came into, what legacy am I going to leave behind, have I helped others enough that might not have the same privileges as me. I have these bouts sometimes, and I feel that self-reflections like these make me fall in love with life and help me gain more clarity of my life’s purpose. Many a times I am caught up hustling and simply living my everyday life, that I fail to recognize opportunities where I could have been of service in a greater capacity than taking care of just my family and loved ones. Many a times I get wrapped up in enjoying the fruits of today, that I forget to plant seeds for the future.    

But there were three things I was able to do in June that made me feel genuinely happy inside.

I partnered with American Cancer Society (ACS)’s Relay For Life event and was able to fundraise critical dollars that go towards raising awareness and towards providing services to people that cannot afford cancer treatment. There are several clinical trials that go on hold due to lack of funds, so many of these trials do not reach the final stages and we never get to see the results of what could have been life-changing medical breakthroughs. I could not have done it alone, I have so many of my dear donors to thank who helped me on this fundraiser and helped fund cancer research. Hope one day we get to a cancer-free world! ACS also hosted a luncheon and recognized the local cancer survivors in my county. It was a humbling experience being able to see all the good work that happens behind the scenes of a big non-profit like ACS, to see how the raised funds are getting routed, and to hear stories of other cancer survivors and their journeys.

I was grateful that they honored not just survivors, but caregivers too, who fight tirelessly alongside any survivor. Nikki, one of my caregivers, was able to join me at that luncheon and she is someone I am thankful for being right beside me on this journey. My caregivers, whether it be my husband, or my mom, or my friends and relatives, give so much of themselves to see me thrive and come out the other side of this battle stronger. I just want to pause for a moment here to say that I thank you all so very much!! The collage here shows a poem dedicated to caregivers, who often do not get their fair share of appreciation.

June was also the month when I started my chemotherapy treatment. It’s a long road for anyone diagnosed with cancer…. and if they have to go through chemotherapy, it is the part of the road that is usually the bumpiest and most tiring, quite literally. It is laced with all kinds of side effects due to the toxic chemo drugs that get pushed into one’s body, like nausea, constipation, diarrhea, terrible fatigue, bone pain, muscle pain, skin peeling, mouth sore, nose bleeds, teeth and nail damage, and yes, hair loss. Before the hair loss could take effect, I decided to go ahead and donate my hair. I figured very soon my hair would start thinning and falling off, so before I started losing my hair, I got myself a very short pixie cut and donated my hair to Locks Of Love.

During the Covid days I did not go to any hair salon and let my hair grow out long…. longer than I had ever grown my hair as far as I can recall. And here’s the reason why I was drawn to this non-profit--- Locks of Love provides custom hairpieces to children experiencing medical hair loss. They utilize human hair donations in the production of custom cranial prosthesis. Their recipients receive their custom hairpieces FREE OF CHARGE, every 2 years until the age of 21. It made me happy inside thinking a small effort like this could help someone else who might be struggling with a need for wig, need for better self-image or confidence… whether it’s due to alopecia caused by cancer or some other medical reason.

And finally, after my diagnosis I admittedly have not been as religious about working out as I should be. To be completely honest, I have never been a runner, a cardio, or CrossFit, or Spin kind of gal. I was happy doing my daily walks of 2 miles (which again, I know I know is not much at all going by the standards of some of my fit runner friends 😊 ). But doing that regular walk of 2 miles with my 3-year old sweet English Cream Golden Retriever, Snowy, was good enough for me. However, given my surgery and chemo, even that 2 miles were torture for my body. Right before my treatment started, I had enrolled myself in a Virtual Workout challenge called Conqueror. It’s a New Zealand based company that offers virtual challenges based on immersive virtual travelling experience to help people start and stick to exercise, using technology to build positive habits rather than negative ones. So so glad I found this company/app!! I have recommended it to so many of my friends and here’s the link if interested-- https://www.theconqueror.events/r/JC93236  

There are so many things I love about Conqueror. The participants could do a run, a walk, a ride, or a swim, you’re working towards conquering a S.M.A.R.T fitness goal. What you get out of it is what I put into it…. It’s all about your dedication and discipline. The challenges are all virtual, self-paced and have fantastic themes/trails like Peru, France, Golden Triangle, Amazon rainforest, etc. and even Lord of the Rings 😊. They have ariel views of the trails, and they send postcards and videos of landmarks along the challenge’s trail. Thus, I get to learn of the history, the architecture, the geography, the people, the cuisine although I haven’t travelled there in real life (but places that have been on my list). Also, they send real medals once you complete a challenge, and not the flimsy kinds but ones that are truly work of art in themselves and would always be prized possessions for me. So far I have completed their Inca Trail, Marathon To Athens and Giza Pyramids. Next up for me is Golden Triangle India. And finally, what drew me most to this platform is that for every 20% of a challenge that I complete, Conqueror plants a real tree to regrow forests, solve climate crisis and protect our planet, i.e. circling back to my reflection on am I leaving this world a better place than I came into? Conqueror partnered with Eden Projects — a non-profit organization, whose mission in their own words is--- “We work with local communities to restore landscapes on a massive scale, thereby creating jobs, protecting ecosystems, and helping mitigate climate change.”

I hope I can keep finding causes like these and align myself better to do good, share great causes like these with others and bring them along in our journeys together, and teach my daughter to shine a little brighter by shining a light onto others.

Do what feeds your soul....