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brockadoodles · 3 years

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morning flights to toronto - b. boeser

AN: I couldn’t give you too many Christmas fics without a splaaasshhhhhhhh of angst, that simply would not be true to my brand. Sorry fic Brock for how often I break you? But it’s okay because it’s just a character and not real hehe. Hope you enjoy this one, it’s a concept I really love.

Word Count: 2613

Warnings: Angst but a good ending I promise.

A month and a half ago, if someone would have asked you what you were doing for Christmas, you would have smiled at them and told them you’d be in Minnesota, likely cuddled up by the fireplace with snow heavily falling outside, your boyfriend asleep next to you and your dogs at your feet. You would have told them how excited you were to go back to the place you had started to realize felt like your second home, a place where you pictured yourself raising a family, transitioning to a stage in life that you were starting to feel ready for. A month and a half ago, you would have been happily in love, instead of mending a freshly shattered heart during your favorite time of the year.

You replayed the conversation in your head, circling over and over his words that echoed through your mind, wondering how you could have misinterpreted the signs for so long. You thought you and Brock were on the same page, you had moved in together, and had even adopted a second dog together, a husky mix named Milo. But it turns out, you weren’t on the same page at all you were two souls who had found yourself so consumed by the love story you thought you had that you ended up not realizing that Brock was still on book 1, while you had steadily moved to book 2.

“I just don’t know that I see all of that right now,” he sighed. His head was resting in his hands and his eyes were blurry from his own tears that had started to fall as he spoke to you, a conversation that to him was the hardest thing he ever had to do. He loved you, that was never the problem. But sometimes, love isn’t enough to build a life with someone, sometimes you need something more than a connection that the two of you had.

“Right now? Or ever?” You whispered, your own tears falling freely as you desperately wished for him to say anything but ever. You could give him space, you could give him time, but you couldn’t rationalize the idea that you had loved him in a way that he didn’t love you. You couldn’t accept that it had been one-sided, not when you were starting to build a life together. Brock ran a hand through his hair, his voice was scratchy from the dryness settling into his throat, the lump choking back his own tears as his voice pulled your heart out and tossed it on the ground.

“I think we need to not be together right now.”

That phrase struck you in a way that nothing else had before. It settled into your chest and pitched a tent there, a tenant that wasn’t paying rent who you couldn’t evict. You weren’t even sure it felt entirely real until you were sitting with him and having a serious conversation about moving out, and taking Milo with you.

You tried not to think about the reality of it all, losing a three year relationship seemingly in a matter of moments. It didn’t matter how long you and Brock spoke in circles that night, it didn’t matter what shape you tried to construct to fix everything and hang onto him, he was holding a box and you were holding broken pieces that didn’t fit.

You were doing your best at what you hoped looked like starting over. You were trying to navigate finding yourself again after being so tied into one person, but it was nearing Christmas and as you sat in your friend’s sublet apartment with boxed of things around you that you and Brock had bought together and Milo at your feet, you wanted to be anywhere other than Vancouver for the holiday.

It had taken you four days to call your parents. Four days of replaying everything in your mind and wondering if maybe he’d call and say it was all a mistake. Four days of cycling through the same routine of going from the bed to the couch on autopilot, tears springing to your eyes each time something reminded you of him. Four days of wondering if he even was hurting at all, a question that you weren’t sure you even wanted the answer to yet tortured yourself with anyways. But it only took five minutes for your mom to convince you to come home.

That’s how you ended up back in Toronto, tucked away in your childhood bedroom that had been converted to be a guest room looking out at the blanket of snow that was dumping into the city. You settled into a new routine, waking up each morning and watching Milo out back playing in the fresh snow. You tried not to think about if he was missing Coolie as much as you were. You also tried not to notice each time Brock’s photo popped up as a viewer on your story, knowing that losing Milo was probably killing him.

Brock spent the weeks following the breakup leading up to Christmas poorly attempting to convince himself that what he did was right. He agonized over it, constantly telling himself that you were two people who had been lost in each other for so long, that you needed to find yourselves again. He tried to convince himself that the codependency was the problem, that you weren’t growing together anymore, hell, he even tried to convince himself that he was the one holding you back from your dreams, feeling guilty for just how willing he knew you would have been to follow him if he were ever traded. But the thing about telling yourself something until it's true is that it doesn’t work, and that was a lesson that Brock was painstakingly learning the hard way. He couldn’t even pretend it was any easier when he was back home in Minnesota, because at each turn his dad asked him things about you and it broke his heart each time he had to remind him that you weren’t.

Brock watched your story of Milo in the snow for what felt like at least the tenth time that morning. He heard your laugh in the background and you calling for Milo softly. He knew you were back home in Toronto, probably at your parents house running through the traditions your family had at Christmas. He remembers when he got to experience all of those with you, the year before. As he heard your laugh one last time from your story, he thought back to that Christmas, his own heart twisting when he thought about how he was always the one who could make you laugh, stealing wine drunken kisses in the kitchen in the dim light.

It took Brock one hour after you left to know that it was a mistake breaking up with you, but it took him three weeks and a Christmas Eve without you to come to the understanding that maybe, just maybe he could fix it.

You groaned softly as you blindly reached for the source of the buzzing on your bedside table. You had half of a mind to turn over and curl up in your blanket and ignore it, the last month your phone had been filled with messages and calls, each person offering what felt like faux sympathy at your broken heart. It got to a point where you dreaded seeing a notification, just wishing that your friends would give you space to heal on your own. They could only express so much sympathy for a situation that they didn’t understand. But it was Christmas Eve, and as you adjusted your eyes to your phone screen, you thought about how whoever was calling this late must have been important. As soon as you picked up the screen and saw the photo on it, him with Coolie curled up against his chest, you felt your eyes water and your mind twist. You wondered if you were hallucinating, but your finger slid across the accept button anyway and you held your breath as you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Are you there?” His voice came through when you didn’t say anything. It was soft and strained, and you felt your heart clench at hearing it after trying to forget about how he sounded over the last month. You sniffled slightly, wiping your eyes and sitting up in bed as you nodded as if he could somehow see your movements through the phone. Milo shifted slightly at your movements, and your heart broke even more.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s so late. Fuck, it’s like 2:30 there. I’m- god please don’t hang up.” He whispered. For a moment you felt like you could see him, probably pacing back and forth in his condo, hand running through his golden hair. You didn’t know why he was calling, and you didn’t know why you chose to answer, but you stayed on the line anyway, because what’s a broken heart at Christmas without the added pain of the one who shattered it waking you up at 2 am?

“I’m here.” You said, your voice shaky. You leaned down to scratch Milo’s ear, your heart-tugging a big at knowing the breakup had not only affected you and Brock but the dogs as well.

“Uhm, I..” Brock started, and you sighed softly into the phone.

“Brock, why are you calling?” There it was, the question he had expected. The question he had spent the last month preparing himself for, running through the lists and reasons in his mind constantly, and now that he was here, listening to you cry on the phone, he seemed to forget all of them. He felt like shit, not only for himself for ruining the best thing he ever had with you, but for calling you in the middle of the night on Christmas and making you cry all over again.

“Come home. Or I’ll come there, I was wrong. I was so beyond wrong and to be honest, I’ve spent the entire last month knowing that. We were so happy, you know? I was thinking about rings and starting this whole life with you and I just lost myself, I started doubting us when it got serious because I was insecure, I was afraid you’d wake up one day and realize you don’t want me or this life. And I was wrong. I was wrong to hurt you, I was wrong to not talk to you about how I was feeling and I was wrong to break up with you when really all I want to do is marry you and have kids and, fuck, I just want all of that with you. So come home, let’s try again.”

You curled into Milo, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you took in the words he spoke. You knew Brock, and you knew he was telling the truth but was he worth risking everything for again. Could you realistically come back from this knowing that you could be sent packing up and back to Toronto at any time should he change his mind. It was a gamble, and you were never one to place bets when it came to your heart.

“I’ll come to Toronto, I’ll book a flight right now, just to see you, just to try to show you that I want to make this up to you. I love you, let me show you that again.” Brock begged.

“You’ll come to Toronto?” You squeaked, biting your lip in the darkness.

“I already looked at flights, I can be there by 10.” He said. You let out a sob at his words, glancing at the clock and counting down how many hours that would be until you would face him.

“I can’t lose you again. If we do this, I can’t.. Brock, I really can’t.” You whispered.

You opened the door to him standing there, a bag on his shoulders, and his hands nervously tucked in his pockets. You passed over his hair that was covered in a dark beanie, his eyes tired and lacking the brightness you once always saw in him, his beard longer than he usually kept it. Brock looked like a reflection of you, a broken person who was wandering around trying to piece back together their own heart. You stepped out onto the porch, not caring that it was freezing cold and the snow was heavy. You didn’t care that you were just in leggings and an old sweatshirt of Brock’s you didn’t want to admit that you had taken from him. You reached out for him, burying yourself into his chest and letting the tears fall as you held each other for the first time in over a month. His hand ran through your hair as he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He spoke, tilting your chin up so that his eyes could look into yours.

“I missed you, and I love you, and please just-” Brock cut you off, pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You felt yourself melt into him, the familiarity rushing back to you as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. You knew that the kiss couldn’t fix everything, that him coming to Toronto and back to you didn’t change what happened. But what you did know was that you had someone standing there who wanted you and had made a mistake, and maybe it was the holiday spirit talking, but you wanted to give him a second chance, and it was the only Christmas present that mattered.

You held onto him tightly, tears stinging your cheeks from the cold. You didn’t even notice your mom had opened the front door behind you, instead you pulled apart from Brock when Milo came running up to your feet, jumping all over Brock and whining at him.

“Milo, hi buddy, hi.” He cooed at the dog, squatting down and letting Milo jump all over him. It made you cry even more, realizing how hard the last few weeks without him had been. Brock looked up at you, a deep frown settling on his features because he knew all of your pain had been his fault. He stood up, letting Milo continue to jump on his legs as he grabbed your hands.

“There’s someone else who came with me.” He smiled softly. You furrowed your brow as he tangled his fingers with yours and led you down to where the car he must have rented was parked. You saw Coolie’s face in the window and you squeezed Brock’s hand tighter, your smile growing with each step closer to him you got. Brock opened the door, letting Coolie jump out and run all around you and him and Milo. His excitement coming out in loud whines. You watched as he and Milo started running around your yard together, standing close to Brock.

“It felt wrong without him.” You commented softly. Brock wrapped an arm around you and kissed your temple tenderly, a move that sent waves of calm through your body. You didn’t know what it would take to fix everything, but you had him here and he wanted to try. Maybe it would be rocky, maybe it would be hard, but losing each other even for just a few weeks only cemented in how sure you were about a life with him. So, even if it all crumpled later on, he still took an early morning flight to Toronto, and you weren’t going to send him away.

#brock boeser #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fic #brock boeser x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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future-rp · 5 years

Photo

neo’s lead rap raewon

neo red’s lead rap & sub vocal mobius entertainment; variety, modelling 07 vocal / 08 rap / 05 dance

» MOBIUS ENTERTAINMENT ANNOUNCES PLANS FOR NEW BOYBAND.

it isn’t a good sign that it’s in the set of his debut mv that raewon seriously considers, for the first time, he might have made a mistake in his career choice.

his mind ran on a single track all his life, taking the world at face value – if something there’s an undoubted truth, that would make the opposite either impossible or a lie. raewon wasn’t a particularly tenacious boy by nature, but he was decidedly stubborn, prone to excess. his childhood would be best described as extraordinarily average, nothing of note to his middle class upbringing in ulsan as a middle child. he did fine in school, preferred p.e. class like almost every one of his friends, and even his interest in music class was far from peculiar back at the time. he didn’t have dreams to pursue or any inherent desire for fame.

he reads about those in his field that only knew a yearning for the stage from a young age. they always elicit a sense of awestruck wonder, and then the vaguest hint of dread. barely there, sitting odd under his skin, seeping into the infinite twisting crevices of his brain – barely, and yet definitely there.

» NEO MEMBER RAEWON’S INDIVIDUAL TEASERS ARE UNVEILED.

the silver letters engraved onto fine paper shimmer dully when he tilts the card at a steep angle. when he came into the arcade to meet with friends, he hadn’t expected to be approached by a soft spoken woman complimenting his appearance. strangers had commented on his good looks before, but usually they addressed him and his siblings collectively, during family reunions, and they sort of paled next to one another. this stranger talks of opportunities far beyond his wildest fantasies, she suggests he might be cut out for a world aspired by many, but belonging to few.

naturally, his head rings with alarms of stranger danger right then as he excuses his way out of the encounter with a hesitant smile, but it’s impossible to ignore the flattery of the gesture. he never finds out just how legit the offer was. the card is crushed by the weight of his books in the bottom of his school bag and eventually is tossed into the trash bin without a second thought at the end of the school year.

» (WATCH) NEO IMPRESSES WITH DEBUT STAGE FOR MANSAE.

“do you remember why you wanted to join the company in the first place?”

he gets it, he really does understand. instructors are paid meagerly wages to handle the workload they brave through every day, and they recycle their pep talks because it’s all they can do when the 12 hour days are getting to them, too. raewon fights the urge to roll his eyes when he notices yet another rendition of the same old sentimental speech form at the tip of the tongue of his coach. the order of the talking points change, but he always circles back to the origins. what brought you here, what dared you to want, what made you chase first. rookie mentality, he punctuates breathlessly with claps before the song loops back to the beginning.

rookie mentality, raewon scoffs. he hasn’t even debuted yet.

he hates saying he is only there because he was bored and curious. he was 16. he was gullible. the memory of his younger self being scouted by another agency came back before high school, when the pressure to decide what he’d dedicate himself into becoming started weighing in on him. raewon hadn’t actually expected to be accepted into mobius entertainment when he he auditioned before the school year started. he hadn’t know the sacrifices before they were already made. he doesn’t know how to explain he only wants in because it is too late to turn around.

» NEO’S KIM RAEWON PREDEBUT SELCAS RELEASED~! (PIC HEAVY)

it’s not to say he is helpless. competitive by nature, once raewon is in, he is all the way in. sometimes he believes the training environment is designed to ensnare the least convinced of the trainees until they’re consumed by the idea of debuting, and it works on him. he hates slacking behind other trainees, hates having his weaknesses exposed for others.

they say he got admitted for his rapping, but he believes it was the idol look plastered on his face, the mobius look. he isn’t horrendous – he had been always big into hip hop and rnb as a child, so developing a rapping style came natural. it’s tough to adapt it to a trend savvy audience, and he becomes less and less confident with his flow after each training lesson. it’s during one of the slumps watching other rappers in the company bypass him without breaking a sweat that he chooses to pursue his secondary skill and tries to make up for his outdated flow with a solid vocal performance.

he really only wants to debut. with the only solid project of a group set to be released by the label after orion presenting itself for the first time since his training began, all things blur into the background of his single ambition. being seen, being picked, having a plan laid out for him. it’s great to be a trainee in high school, to have a plan b to fall onto when the frustration clamps in on him. but when he leaves his teens, the idea of a debut is no longer a luxury he gets to consider, but the only resort.

he plays up to his strengths and glosses over weaknesses, clings to the facts of his condition. dancing is great, but dancing gets few people ahead. it’s a requirement, when all the trainees worry over the angles their limbs form at any given moment of a routine and can absorb choreography like breathing in air. what he needs is to showcase adequate rapping and decent vocals that turn him into an asset for the company.

and he does.

» NETIZENS DISCUSS MOBIUS NEW GROUP NEO.

if only raewon were a little more intelligent. he has wits on him, it’s part of his appeal in the first place. his ability to disarm people, the shameless edge to his every move, the sharp tongue made tv-ready during his training years. but he’s quick to learn that charm alone won’t keep him afloat as an idol, let alone in a group like neo where the attention is so oddly split and the distractions never end.

if only he were a better vocalist, more charming as a performer, funnier on camera. he has a returning anxious dream about his mother with a hand on her hips, the other tending to her forehead as she tells raewon to just be like his brother, and tells raewon to just be like his sister, and tells raewon to just be nothing like himself. wrapping up filming without the overwhelming feeling he isn’t doing enough only adds up to the foreboding, spotting all the things his group mates do better every time he looks over his shoulder.

it’s hard to get a full night of sleep with his schedule, but the metaphorical ache in him turning physical at the end of a day doesn’t help either. his skeleton is at unrest inside him, pushing at his muscles and skin, trying to get itself out of the torture raewon chooses.

his sister tells him he’s being paranoid. her laughter rings natural through the speaker, although she sounds tired, likely due to the odd hours. she watched his interview and she thought he was really cute, her roommate says she likes him the best in neo. she isn’t bullshitting him, she had never lied to him before.

raewon doesn’t know what to think now that he realizes there are few truths beyond doubt left.

» [181026] NEO:RED INTRODUCTION CUT.

next: neo’s multifaceted talent, neo:red’s x factor, mobius visual standard. kim raewon.

raewon is known for his dazzling vocals and a sharp rap style that has fans’ hearts swooning every time neo hits the stage. though he only just debuted, he has shown some variety chops that leave the audience wondering what the future holds for him. he shows his members a lot of love as a supportive hyung, but trinity are the biggest winners of his unending affection.

please look forward to our pretty raewon’s steps in the future!

#ft. accepted #ft. neo bio #ft. neo red bio

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