#but again. hotel setting means I actually Can lie down and be comfortable and return without spending ages walking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyukmoon · 3 years

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moon. | l.sy x gn!reader

lee sangyeon x gn!reader

word count: about 4.01k

to put it short: congrats! Something you should actually say, right? Your best friend and crush is getting married in two days and you feel,... well, not very good about it. So, wait... he's returning the feelings? Damn.

content warning: ANGST in capital letters, I would add lots of exclamation points but im lazy. So yeah, hella angsty. Some good old making out, it's kind of heavy at some point but no smut at this point lol. I don't condone any of the done actions, so yeah, I would've personally handled everything differently, but you know, y/n is kinda wild. Very awkward sometimes, but that's more the situation in itself. ALSO, NOT PROOFREAD

taglist: @loki-in-hogwarts

note: the second thing i wrote and im somewhat excited!!! Yes! Exclamation points. So,... thanks for reading :)

It was a great day. Well, at least seemingly for everyone but you. Your best friend in this world Sangyeon was about to get married to the love of his life, who is notyou and now you just stand in the hotel lobby waiting for it to happen. Funnily enough, the crushing feeling of desperation and fear didn’t seem to set in yet.

The hotel lobby was filled to the brim with acquaintances and other guests possibly confused by the uproar of the wedding guests. So, who were you specifically waiting for? The rest of your friend group, the ones who will most likely clean up after the wedding whatever will be left of you.

A nervous smile swept up to your lips, casually just avoiding every sort of tension that could come across you. Just with the luck of this entire occurrence an older woman started to approach you, demon alike features spreading around her face almost like she knew you were apparently the only single person here. An aunty, that wasn’t even related to you but had all the business to judge.

“Are you here for the bride or the groom?”, her sweet voice rang a familiar feeling in your stomach. Almost too sweet, making you suspicious of her intent. “I’m here for my best friend, Sangyeon. So, yeah, for the groom.”, you hesitated a second, “What about you though? Do you know the bride?”

“She’s my youngest niece, the only one that still visits, her sisters don’t even care anymore…” You nodded politely, not wanting to anger her now and stepped towards a different direction.

“So, my dear, are you here with anybody?” You already feared that question, the same as always. The eyes of yours started with a panicked expression searching through the room a familiar pair. “No, I am here on my own. I kinda wanted to focus on getting Sangyeon through with it, being there for him.” As a friend.

Possibly this was the first part of feeling despair and fear. People at this wedding were really waiting for them to get married. They weren’t joking, this would change everything.

“Ah, I see. You know, get over him. Well, it is time for you at least, you’re not getting younger. There are quite few handsome men here. I remember the names Juyeon and ah yes! Kevin, get over here!” As far as you were concerned, your facial expression couldn’t possibly look more stunned than a moment ago, yet another one of your good friends appeared, seemingly just as confused.

This only held on for a good second, Kevin knew exactly what to do. “Oh hi, I’m so sorry to steal [Y/N] away from you, but I actually need to talk to them on my own over a gift we both prepared for the couple!”, he grinned at the lady, who was obviously smitten with him. “Yes, of course, hun. Take your time.” She finally hushed into a separate direction.

“So, how are we doing? You seem kinda… stressed.”

“You don’t say”, you sighed, “if I have to go through a conversation like this again today, believe me I’ll-. “

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I get the sentiment. Even though I meant more the other situation. Like in, Sangyeon getting married and you sitting here all grumpy because of it.”, Kevin was already aware of your “small” infatuation with your best friend, a man too far out of your reach also funnily enough, the man’s wedding you’re attending. However, your friend in front of you didn’t seem to mind talking about it out loud in a place like the hotel lobby. Your lips tightened up into a fine line.

“I’m not grumpy! I just…I don’t really know what to do. I mean, I know I’m going to be there for him but yeah, okay, I might feel a bit grumpy.” The lobby did clear up a lot now.

“Okay, oof. There’s this dinner with everyone in the evening today, do you think you can get through that?”, Kevin asked hesitantly just as stressed with this additional complication.

“I mean, I probably have to, don’t I? This makes me so sick, ugh. Not gonna lie, my stomach feels like a laundry machine.” You laughed quietly and drifted off again into a place where you didn’t need to think about this.

“What did you really expect though? You know I love you, respectfully, but like, this feels like an incredibly bad move to do.”

“Don’t you think it would be worse if I didn’t show up at all? I’ll just need to go through this weekend and I’m outta here. No one will know anything.” It might feel like a nightmare but at least a nightmare you can actually run away from and not actually have to face at some point.

“Well, I hope you’ll keep your confidence. Because imagine I saw the person, I love getting married to someone else. Oh my, believe me, you wouldn’t find me for the next three weeks.”

“Not very helpful, a good three out of ten. I guess, I’ll just stick to sulking around then.” A dead smile crept up your lips following a stern look from your side at your opposite.

“Seems like a good plan, just stick to me, maybe we will find someone to take your attention away from this, huh?” A sly grin was visible on Kev’s face.

“Ughhh, of course. Let’s do this. It can’t get much worse than that”, you cleared your throat, “thanks, though. You actually make this here somewhat bearable.”

“Awww, come on. We should pack out our suitcases.”

No one can really prepare someone for a moment like this. Most older folk turned into their hotel rooms which left you in a party like situation seeing your closest friends turning it up in a huge pavilion while the future groom sits comfortably on a velvety sofa hand in hand with his fiancée.

The air was quite warm even at this time of the evening, not humid, just warm enough for everyone to taste the end of this era with nostalgia and a slight feeling of energy to experience what’s to come afterwards.

You as well sat down, continuously processing your environment. With a cup of your favorite drink, you felt invincible, nothing able to shake you down.

Now while this wasn’t a preferred environment, this was manageable; you could look your best friend into his eyes and proudly congratulate him on his wedding. You would be able to get over this and continue to be a great friend. Black hair with an intense facial expression made its way into your viewpoint along with a somewhat tipsy Kevin. Simultaneously the lighter hair of your best friend fought his way through the crowd.

Lee Sangyeon, the man lighting up your mood with simple touch of his fingertips was now signalizing for you to head outside towards the veranda of the pavilion. He exuded patience, yet clearly waiting for a response of you. You nodded and brushed cautiously over your evening attire.

“Hii, [Y/N]! Can I introduce this someone to you? This is Juyeon, he might look a bit intense, but he’s really nice to talk to! So, I’m gone for a sec then!” Kevin started drifting off into a different direction where you stopped him in his tracks.

“Could this wait? Sangyeon needs to talk to me. I think it’s important, I’ll come back though in a bit!” You gifted both of them an apologetic face and made your way around the men towards the going to be groom.

Surely it wasn’t exactly clear why he wanted to speak to you, especially on his own. He was still waiting for you after all.

“[Y/N]! What has it been? Like three? Four months? I missed you so much.”, Sangyeon pulled you into his chest abruptly and sighed softly into your shoulder. Engulfed entirely in his figure you never wanted to wake up from this again. Was it now 10 seconds? 15 seconds? Neither he nor you really seemed to let go, taking in all the scents of his that were formerly familiar to you.

“Yeah, I think so. You were probably busy planning this all and I just had to work, I guess.” Trying to keep it short was your main goal, appearing distant maybe. He didn’t mind at all though. Not discouraged from continuing this conversation Sangyeon pointed at the veranda, showing the only speck of space with little to no crowd.

The veranda was close to closed off to the party. Non distinguishable palm trees in the far distance were playing right into your cards for not having to look into his eyes. Magnetically glowing, that’s how he appeared. All happy and smiley about the obvious luck he was experiencing. Now again, he sat down with you in the beach chairs without loosing a word.

“The palm trees are so pretty. You remember me wanting to buy some new plants?”, you tried to invite him to the conversation.

“You always want to buy new plants, which time do you mean?” Sangyeon grinned to himself. “You know what? It’s so weird. Everything feels still so unreal. This wedding, also you at my wedding… So weird.”

“I am literally your best friend, where else should I be? Your funeral? At home? Who else is going to charm the hotel staff for some free capri suns and new towels?” Your mouth crinkled up and you let out a soft laugh.

“[Y/N] … You know exactly what I mean!”

“Noo, not at all. I’m so confused right now, not gonna lie.” Your face finally moved towards his direction, seeing his gentle gaze resting on you.

“Do you remember when we were still in school, and we promised each other we would marry each other if we didn’t find anybody else?” His gaze got more intense with each sentence.

“Yeahh, kind of. I was probably tired and it’s like ten years ago. I’m not really sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

“I really thought I was going to marry you. For several years, actually.”, he laughed. “I had such a crush on you and then you met your s/o and all that. Ughh, it seemed so complicated back then. Kind of weird to think about what could have happened if I did ask you out or something.”

“True.”, you turned away again standing up and resting against the wooden railing of the pavilion. “But you didn’t so, let’s just drop it there.” The weather as well started rebelling a bit, the wind hugging your figure slightly too tight for your taste.

“Why are you so cold all of a sudden?”, he whispered closely behind you.

“Well, you’re getting married tomorrow. And you’re telling me about a crush you had on me?”, you croaked.

“I was just being nostalgic, I thought this would be fine with you.” Sangyeon appeared now next to you on the railing, waiting for you to face his concerned dark eyes.

“It isn’t for me. It just feels wrong.”

“What feels so wrong about it? It was a long time ago.”

It is here, the bitterness. Bitterness shouldn’t even be the correct term, the pain of your heart going into a slump didn’t feel like a fitting word. Being reminded again that you will never have a chance again.

“Wait or is it not a long time ago for you?”, The voice of his tried to word his next sentence very carefully.

“I went out with them because I thought you were joking. Then when I thought about you, it was always different. It was too late though, you met her.” Only the close ocean along with the wind were hearable, neither you nor he were able to form another thought put into a sentence.

“You could’ve told me. I would’ve-.”

“Broken up with her?”

“No, I-.”

“Then what could you have done?”, you interrupted Sangyeon’s rambling, trembling while speaking. Terribly spiteful with a bite that wasn’t too often dripping down your lips.

“This.” Sangyeon pressed a fluttery kiss against your lips. Slender fingers tapped onto the skin right under your chin, signalizing you to look at him.

The now much calmer atmosphere made you snake your arms around his torso. Heat rose towards your head, longing after a second out in the cold again just to see his lovely facial expression. Your lips broke off and touched once more in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His hot breath started sliding downwards your cheek to your neck, physically making you unable to resist his entrancing presence. Also his hands broached over from your face down to your waist, holding you with the lightest touch.

Sangyeon’s lips darted away from yours, catching you staring deeply into his eyes. The silence felt warm now as well, filled with the slow and recovering breath of the participants.

“[Y/N], I think I still feel that way.”, a rosy blush swept over the man’s face you wanted to hear say these things so many times and so long ago.

“No. No. No. You shouldn’t! I shouldn’t either! I have to go.” The reality of the situation caught up to you. This was bad. Incredibly bad. Still the disgusting feeling of hope within this made its way up to your head. Stinging alongside the feeling of remorse, you didn’t think clearly, especially now, next to him.

You darted in the fastest way possible from the pavilion up to the hotel to your room, leaving him there.

Today should be the final day. The hopes that already should have been buried a long time ago, crawled up again and clawed its way into your mind. What if he leaves her for you today? Like in those unrealistic rom coms. Yes, again, it was unrealistic.

Leaving her at the altar and running after you. While all those thoughts of hope and wishes came together you found yourself with a stomachache. His fiancée was an incredibly nice person, sweet and kind along with being a beauty. You shouldn’t even dare to think about Sangyeon that way anymore, she deserved a lot more. Quite honestly, you felt pathetic. Who were you to run into their possible future?

Just because of a simple brush over the lips, his eyes staring into yours like no one else existed but you and his soft hands delicately touching your waist. A tap on your shoulder put you out of your trance, “[Y/N]? Can you go up to Sangyeon’s room? He asked for you.” Kevin’s eyes glanced at you with uncertainty. Neither you nor he knew why he wanted to see you.

Even more importantly, why did he need to see you alone? This seemed like dangerous territory after, basically yesterday. Agony rose again, what if he really was going to leave her?

“Sure, I don’t know why he wants to see me again though.”, you said and left to see the groom’s room. You stumbled more and more over every step closer to the door of the man who’s going to rip your heart and air out of your lungs. The normally soft laid out carpet felt in this moment like you were stepping barefoot over glass. There was the door, brightly painted in eggshell paired with the digits of the hotel room.

Before you could reach the door to knock on it, light brown waves greeted your overtly surprised face.

“You clean up well.”, Sangyeon’s rang in your ears clearer than freshly hung-up laundry in your nose. His previously concerned face curled up into a faint smile.

“Same goes for you”, you tried your best to hide the very apparent frog in your throat, “So, why do you need me?”

“Just needed to see you before going out there, I guess.”, his voice got a lot quieter. It got silent.

Not sure if a said word was necessary, you plopped down on a small, velvety stool. Every whisper was to be heard. An otherness surrounded Sangyeon, like he wasn’t there anymore, and his thoughts took over his being. You scooted closer towards him, just wanting to see him up close for the last time like this, smelling his earthy cologne from this distance.

“Why are you doing this to me?”, your voice went close to hoarse after the question. He was just as silent as before. No sound, nothing. This torment of a weekend was supposed to end with no gratification, not feeling free from this feeling on your chest? Your hand slid over his, the most desperate attempt to get his attention while also experiencing his touch again. Sangyeon jerked his hand back and returned to his absent posture.

“Why do you want to hurt me like this? I am your best friend, and you use me like I’m nothing.” The lack of power you had now made you sink down to the beige teddy carpet. Small tears started swelling up in your nearly dry eyes, kind of contradictory, yet the more tear drops rolled down your cheeks the rottener and hollow you felt.

“You were my best friend until you-.”, he stopped midsentence, “made me feel things again I didn’t need, I didn’t want.” Also his face was wet, ridden with tears making his usually calm and cheerful persona look like a painful insult.

“You asked me here. It hurts, Sangyeon. I can’t make it stop hurting, I don’t know what to do”, you reached for him again, “Could I ever be enough for you?” He returned your former attempts to stroke your face. Cornering both of you, the air trapped you in the toxins of heartbreak and hopelessness.

Once again, Sangyeon’s hand glid over your soft skin and halted on your face. Glaringly staring into each other’s eyes, you were there again. The day before, yesterday. Close to baring the soul of each person present.

“[Y/N], it’s not about being enough. It never has been. I have made a commitment I already broke, I…I can’t do this”, he sighed, “you know I love her.”

“I thought you loved me as well.” Overwhelming nothingness overruled you, almost scaring you about this reaction. You weren’t crying, yelling nor having any physical reaction at all. It was convincingly numb; the resting hurt would come later. Sangyeon’s head dropped in the dip of your shoulder and neck.

This sort of closeness would never happen again. You feeling him breathing into you while having his comforting heartbeat close to yours.

“I do, but I can’t do this to her. I would never do this to her.”, he whispered into your shoulder. A sigh came from his side.

“Then, please. Kiss me, for the last time.” The last part of the sentence left a disgustingly bitter taste in your mouth. This was over, right? His head, which was formerly resting on your shoulder, drifted up and towards yours. Also his expression blank and hollow, like he didn’t know anything.

For the last time, his hands cupped your face in a comfortable manner. As always, he felt homely, but he surely wasn’t yours ever. Not even waiting a good second or two, the light brunette’s face came closer to yours. With no hesitation both of your lips touched tenderly, releasing every sort of affection that could be expressed at that second. You inhaled again his intoxicating scent, in the hopes of having him all over you. His now reddened lips moved closer towards your jawline making you gasp for air.

Also, you weren’t completely still, constantly shifting your hands up and down over his torso upwards his neck, desperately feeling everything, you can for the last time. Sangyeon’s locks tickled you softly while he suddenly latched his mouth onto your neck right below your ear.

“No. Please, I just want a kiss on my lips.”, you said lowly, closely resembling a whine afterwards. He complied pretty quickly, leaving you with no thought but him tickling your bottom lip with his warm tongue. With him being this fast, you didn’t want to keep him on his toes. Entirely engaged in this moment, hands surprised you again on your waist, wandering closer and closer under the blouse you were wearing. You moaned into the kiss, making him take the opportunity to maneuver his tongue into your mouth.

Similarly to you, he was also stunned for a short moment when you grabbed up onto some strands of hair. A sigh left his now plump lips, a need of fresh air arrived onto both of you. Yet this was short lived, his hands captured your chin and attached his lips again onto yours in a matter of mere seconds. A bell rang, close footsteps to be heard across the floor reminding you of the situation you were in.

“Why am doing this? I am so sorry.”, you broke off his lips and took a step backwards at the door.

“[Y/N], we both did this, and it won’t happen again. We just need some time without each other. I think it would be for the best if we don’t spend time together alone anymore.”

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? I don’t know what to say. I-.”, His lips captured yours again fast with a lot more force behind his kiss.

A strong arm shut the about to be opened door again and hovered over your head. The other one caught grabbed your chin with an almost contradictory feeling to it, the lightest touch just to shove you into his direction. You sighed into his lips, waiting for him to commit with his tongue one more time. Buttery lips pressed against yours and clang inside your mouth. Fiercely did your tongues meet, ending with him sucking on yours. Wet cheeks batting against each other with no intent of separating, your movement still came to a halt.

“You know what? I hate this. I want you to be happy, then if it is with her, I will just y’know…go or uhm mind my business.”, you slurred the last part. It wasn’t really one of your most prideful moments. Still flushed with tears and embarrassment you dropped again against the room door.

“I ask for one condition though,” incredibly hearse was your voice after the crying and even more so because of your follow up, “I do not not want to see you for some time, I don’t want to have to see your face ever again.” Tears weren’t anymore swelling up in your eyes, they never seemed to stop running down with no chance of leaving this conversation with an ounce of self-respect and pride.

It wasn’t even really much of a problem to leave him behind for a bit, it most likely would be for the best anyway, yet while his words should only leave a small mark and feel like a ripped off band aid, you felt alone. A sense of loneliness crept stealthily into you leaving you with nothing but a severe feeling of dread.

“If that is what you want, I’ll respect that.” The room got quieter till you heard the last of his words: “Of course, I still want you in on my wedding though, you’re still my best friend.” Sangyeon’s usual soft and kind smile appeared on his face, seemingly reaching you an olive branch. The former assertiveness and confidence drained through the conversation; you were nothing but a wreck.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

The ceremony was beautiful. Fairy like flowers were hung all across the beach space, making the place more surreal than it was to begin with. Everything light with a hint of light green and an even lighter lavender tone. The air seemed to have evaporated all the tension and sadness from your face. All across the seats were relatives and friends sitting with a nervously happy face. Ironically, he really thought it was going to be you someday.

“You’re [Y/N], right? Everyone always tried to introduce me to you. Now we’re sitting next to each other at Sangyeon’s wedding together! I’m Juyeon by the way.”

#lee sangyeon x reader #sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon #sangyeon #tbz #tbz fic #tbz angst #the boyz fic #the boyz #the boyz au #the boyz scenarios #sangyeon x you #sangyeon x y/n #the boyz x reader #sangyeon tbz #the boyz kevin #the boyz juyeon #moon kevin #lee juyeon

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ditttiii · 4 years

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Brothers Conflict || 03.

Thrust into an already established family, you struggle to find your footing while dodging the advances of seven, incredibly good looking stepbrothers.

Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (reverse harem)

◈ CHAPTER THREE

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: Language (sfw)

Masterlist

"How about this?"

"Nah, it's too sideways," you reply from where you are standing near the doorway of your bedroom.

"Right or left?" Sunmi asks, as she grips the frame and distances her torso from the wall, trying to see for herself where she should shift the frame. From the looks of it, she's failing spectacularly at it.

Suppressing a snort, you answer ‘left’ and hum when she tilts the frame and you are finally satisfied with its position on the wall. Walking back in, you marvel at the sheer grandness of your room for the umpteenth time as you take in all the space around you. Roughly four times the size of your old bedroom, it was huge.

Floor to ceiling windows on the side opposite the bedroom door, before which was your queen-sized bed. A decent size, intricately designed bedside table beside it, with the floor underneath covered with a soft, plush rosy white carpet. A walk-in closet the size of your old bedroom, a bathroom with a jacuzzi, curtains heavy enough to suffocate and kill you if they were to ever fall upon your body; your new bedroom screams rich.

It would be a lie to say that you don't feel intimidated. Raised in a middle-class, humble neighbourhood, you hadn't in your wildest dreams ever imagined living in a room like this. But here you are, soaking in the reality of the moment; and realising that it feels like something between a dream and a nightmare.

Nearly four hours since you first started unpacking, and five since you had first met your new family, most of your room was organised. All boxes untaped and emptied as you and Sunmi worked hard to make the unnecessarily large, empty room less of a hotel room and more like the bedroom of a 19-year-old girl.

Sighing, you push the last book of your novel collection into the bookshelf. Made from some sort of whitewood, much like everything else, it was designed intricately and looming large over your small shadow.

"This is it."

Slouching, you fall onto your back, eyes straying to the ceiling above and the textures carved onto it, refusing to reply to Sunmi’s statement. Agreeing would mean that you'd have to let her go and you don't think you can, the isolation and abnormality of the situation already sinking in and scaring you.

"Mmn," you reply noncommittally instead.

A long sigh, and then your best friend is curling on the floor beside you, her hand snaking around yours, fingers intertwining, as she silently lets you know that she is here for you. Repressing the tears you can already feel trying to escape your eyes, you squeeze her hand back.

The clammy, ice-cold touch of your skin against hers goes unmentioned as you both lay there in silence.

"I'll call you every day," you whisper, your voice choked as your death grip around Sunmi's waist tightens, and she lets out a strangled moan before pushing you away.

"Woman, stop being so dramatic! You'll see me back in college every freaking day once summer ends and you know I'll come to see you whenever you want me to, the hour-long ride be damned," Sunmi chides. There’s no bite in her words, and her voice wobbles despite her trying to act tough, but you don't call her out on it and only nod.

"You better, you airhead, lord knows you'll probably sob your body dry without seeing me every day."

A giggle comes out of your best friend's tall, lean body, one you are entirely too envious of, and her eyes soften, your smile softening with it.

"Take care, will ya?"

"Always," you whisper back, and with one last kiss thrown over her shoulder, she leaves. Her figure grows smaller and farther with every step she takes, and you bite your lip to prevent a call from tumbling out. Not moving an inch until you hear the distant roar of her car driving away, you finally shut the door when you no longer hear or see her car.

Suddenly you feel scarily small. Like a tiny, irrelevant existence born in a world too large and glamorous; a world where you evidently do not belong.

Meandering through the floor, you gaze at the picture frames on the wall as though you are the actress of some old seventies cinema, bemoaning the absence of a long lost lover.

Dramatic, yes, but you have always been more on the theatrical spectrum of humankind, and it isn't like there is much you can do right now anyway. Not unless you want to hole up in your room and stew in your sadness alone. And even though that might sound appealing to most (considering what your room now looks like), it wasn't something you felt like doing at the moment.

So you mindlessly gaze at the pictures, the setting sun casting a warm orange glow in the darkening hallway as you try to find some semblance of familiarity, a speck of comfort or intimacy.

"Y/n?" a soft voice calls out to you, and you twist on your heels, your eyes meeting with those of Yoongi.

"Yoongi-oppa." Voice coming out soft, your words fade at the end as your eyes track the way Yoongi's face glows when the rays of the setting sun hit his skin. Long messy dark blonde hair makes space for his glittering curvy eyes to shine through, and your breath gets caught somewhere in your chest when you look at the vision that was Min Yoongi.

"Exploring?" he asks casually, but even without knowing him for all that long, you can detect the underlying layer of concern in his voice. You don't know if he is being open with you right now, or if you can just read him well, but the concern makes your heart feel a little warmer.

"Something like that." Your answer is ambiguous, but Yoongi doesn't ask you to elaborate, so you don't add anything more, turning back and looking at the pictures again instead.

"This something you enjoy?" Yoongi asks as he moves beside you, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his pants, and leans; making himself comfortable against the wall.

Your eyes stray to him. "Sounds like you don't."

"Not really my forte, I can appreciate it from a distance, sure, but not an enthusiast," he replies, the back of his head hitting the wall behind as he looks up at you.

Humming, you shrug. "Same, I guess, it's just fascinating to me. I wish I was smart enough to understand what half of these actually mean, but I am not, so I just appreciate the beauty and move on."

"Fair enough."

You nod and let the silence reign again, but it's a comfortable silence, the kind of quiet where you are both lost in your own thoughts but at the same time appreciate the company of the other.

Slowly the sun sets behind you, and the glassed walls shimmer one last time before the ceiling lights are switched on, bathing the entire floor in warm but bright light.

Yoongi had been silent the entire time as you explored the floor like a child in a zoo, poking and prodding the potted plants, oo-ing and aah-ing over the art around you, fascinated and occupied with the attractions around.

But when the lights switch on, he clears his throat and gets up from the couch he had taken a seat on some time ago, head tilting as he wordlessly asks you a question. You nod back and smile, making your way to him as you finally get ready to spend some time with the rest of your newly acquired family.

As you both make your way to the main hall, you don't miss how your heart is feeling much lighter now. The silent company that Yoongi had provided you with seems to have put you at ease and calmed your racing thoughts.

Walking into the kitchen alone, you try your best to make as little noise as possible. Yoongi, much to your displeasure, had promised that he'd meet you out in a few minutes only to disappear inside of his bedroom and leave you to your own devices.

The sudden bout of bravado from earlier had left your body too, in its place leaving raring, gut-twisting anxiety.

Tiptoeing to the refrigerator, you take out a bottle and pour yourself a glass. The chilled water slides down your throat, quenching your thirst, and you let out a satisfied sigh, smacking your lips in contentment after.

"That thirsty, huh?"

You jump, startled, heart racing and in your throat, as your gaze snaps to the doorway and finds Seokjin standing there. Suit coat hung over his left arm, and a button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, he was clearly returning back home after a workday.

"Holy fuck, you scared the shit outta me!"

Your brain to mouth filter is seemingly not working after being startled. Feeling anxious was a problem enough, but being scared after was evidently enough to send your last two brain cells out the window. Your common sense and the knowledge that Kim Seokjin was now your stepbrother, eldest stepbrother, flying out the window along with them.

You hear crickets chirping in the distance as an awkward silence blankets the room, and in that moment you want to die. Spontaneously combust and float away into thin air, disappear, dissolve, vanish—die.

"I am so sorry, can we pretend I didn't say that, “you voice out meekly, your eyes avoiding Seokjin’s and instead finding purchase on the wall behind him, seemingly fascinated by the utter whiteness of it.

Hearing a chuckle ring and break the awkwardness in the air, you shift your gaze to the source of said chuckle and catch your eldest brother's gaze. "It's alright Y/n, I get that this is a big adjustment. Please don't feel like you need to rush on anybody's accord, take your time."

And then Kim Seokjin smiles—his pouty, full lips stretched into a small but ridiculously warm smile, and something in your chest clenches at the sight of it. Warning bells ring in the back of your mind, and you squash the thoughts threatening to come forward, their not-so-appropriate nature resulting in an immediate rejection from your end.

Mumbling a thank you, you let him know you'll be down soon and then dash to your bedroom, slamming the door closed once you're inside and sinking down onto the floor.

What the hell was that!?

Raking a hand through your hair, you groan in annoyance, wincing when said hand gets stuck in a tangle and pulls a few strands loose.

Looking back at your impression so far in front of Seokjin, one of your seven step brothers, it had been nothing but absolutely marvellous. So you can't imagine what could possibly go wrong when you sit down at the dinner table and are surrounded by all seven of them.

Nothing, nothing at all, nope-nada-zilch!

Frustrated, you slide a hand down your face, hoping to calm down, but the move only ends up irritating your skin under. The day has been long, and all that you pray for now is that it ends soon. Your bed, which from the looks of it was fit for royalty, was beckoning you over too.

With one last huff, you are pushing yourself up onto your feet and to the bathroom to splash some water, before you go and join the rest of your new family.

Pulling the chair in, you wring your hands nervously under the table, away from any prying eyes. One by one, the rest of your family filters in and takes a seat; Seokjin and Yoongi both pick their seats at the two heads of the table. Hoseok and Namjoon sit on either side of you, with Jimin plopping himself down opposite you, and getting flanked by Jungkook and Taehyugn on either side.

Not much conversation had taken place as they picked their seats, everyone sufficiently tired enough after a long day, but they had smiled or nodded at you when they first entered the dining room.

'Well most of them at least,' you think, eyeing the two youngest, who had both refused to give you even a cursory glance, resulting in your smile going unseen and unreciprocated. Their attitude, however, doesn't bother you too much at this point; as it was, they were virtually nothing more than strangers to you.

Conversations pick up around you, and you feel slightly out of place, as though you are a guest over for dinner rather than their new stepsister, but the feeling doesn't last long, because both Namjoon and Hoseok soon pull you into a conversation. Inquiries come forth about your day, and how your unpacking had gone.

The conversation is mostly superficial, nothing too emotionally challenging; neither of them ask how it feels being a part of their family or something like that, and you are relieved. Grateful, because you don't know if you'd be able to answer those questions anyway. The whole situation is still very odd no matter how many minutes of the day pass.

Someone clears their throat, and your eyes snap to Seokjin, who was pushing his chair back and picking up his glass, the red wine inside sloshing with the movement.

"I've done this before, and yet it never gets any less nerve-wracking," Seokjin starts, and your eyes furrow in confusion, but he continues before you can think about it any more. "Y/n," he says and tips his head in your direction, "I know this must feel a little scary—actually, scratch that, you're probably terrified right now, and that's okay.” he pauses, and takes a breath before continuing, “I'm sure it feels crazy suddenly being thrust into an already established family and being told that now you're one of them, and I just want you to know that I get it. We get it, and we are here for you. If you don’t want to accept us as family, that’s okay too; all of us would understand and support whatever decision you make. I just...” Sighing, he locks eyes with you.

“...I just hope you can let us in eventually, family or not."

Seokjin's eyes bore into yours as he says this, stressing the 'us', and you gulp, feeling the back of your throat tighten at his words. Sensing the fine thread of control that you had over your emotions loosening, you swivel your gaze to the table instead, nodding, your vision growing blurry as you try to blink back the burn in your eyes.

The room goes quiet, as the boys give you time to collect yourself—or sob, you don't know, but you appreciate the consideration nonetheless.

It was going good, it really was. You were holding on, no matter how precarious the hold was, you were holding on. Grasping onto that last string of control and restraint you had with all of your might.

But then Hoseok is wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, letting you nestle your face in the crook of his neck, and the string snaps, his neck growing wet as tears streamed down your face and slid down his skin.

For a few minutes, you forget that you were now surrounded by strangers who you had to accept and call your family. For a few false, delusional minutes you forget that they don't know you, that the care they were showing was genuine and not something they were obligated to. That the one whose hands were drawing circles across your back, the one whose voice was whispering reassurances in your ear—stupid sweet-nothings that you would tell a small child to make them feel better, actually gave a shit about you.

You forget the reality and slip into a safe headspace, letting the warmth of another human encircle you, hold you, wrap you in its cocoon as you weep.

A/N: dedicating this chapter to @mel-gonzalez07, one of my oldest, most loyal readers, and more than anything else an amazing friend. ily angel 💖

Y/n is going through some shitt here. Imagine being thrust into a dynamic that has been established for years, and then having to act like you are meant to be a part of it.

The taglist for the story can be found:- here. A kind reminder that tumblr sometimes doesn’t give an alert for a tag notification, but you’ll find the notification in your notification dash. So, check it once a week as I usually update weekly.

Feedback means the world to me, so tell me what you thought. What would you do if you were in oc’s shoes?

Until next time! Take care you sweet soul and Oo! Go stream folklore 💖

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crescentsteel · 4 years

Text

Just Friends - Part 7

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: sexual tension, slow burn word count: 7.2k

A.N:

- Finally!! I'm so glad to finally release this. October was so hectic and I'm a very slow writer. - I'm so sorry for the mistakes on the previous chapters. No one beta reads for me. So I went back and edited Chapters 3-6. - So sorry for the word vomit on this chapter. I was out of control. - Thank you for all the nice comments!! I swear. They keep me fired up and inspired. - As always, lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my works,

Part 6 | Part 8 | m.list

“No! It’s not what you think!”

Kuroo almost laughs at how cliche you sounded, a typical response of someone who’s been caught red-handed. You’re about to chase Kenma, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Maybe you should wear your shirt before you go after ‘im.” He tries to hide the mirth in his expression and tone. Your face is so red, you look like you’re about to burst. He also doesn’t want to add up more to the awkwardness you might feel later, so he’s gonna let this one slide. He’ll just pretend that the massage thing was as harmless as it should be.

You put your shirt in a jumble and walk briskly to Kenma. He follows at his normal pace, settling behind you when he catches up to you and Kenma.

“Sorry about that,” you laugh nervously. “He was just giving me a back massage.”

It was kinda the truth, but Kenma looks dubious.

“It sounded more than a massage.”

He covers his lips with his back hand so he wouldn’t laugh. Although his rascal self wants to tease you more, he can’t let you feel any more embarrassed than this. He looks at Kenma and shakes his head minutely with a knowing look, hinting not to push the subject any further.

“Naah. Y/n here is just really stressed so she moans like she’s being fucked.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t completely let it slide after all.

You irritatedly look at him and punch his arm with more force than usual. “Piss off,” you hiss.

He dramatically rubs the arm you just hit. “Ow! So violent.”

Kenma ignores the antics and just passes by you two. He’s about to plop himself on the couch, but pauses. He instead gets a chair and seats himself there.

You couldn’t overlook that. Obviously, in Kenma’s mind, you and Kuroo were doing something indecent there so he doesn’t want to be in it. You want to clear it up to Kenma that you really weren’t doing anything of that sort. Well, you were about to pounce on Kuroo, but still, it didn’t actually happen.

In a way, you’re relieved that Kenma interrupted at the right time. You might have done something you will harrowingly regret afterwards.

“Don’t sweat it, y.n. He just misinterpreted it.” Kuroo’s unusually magnanimous today. It’s strange. He wouldn’t have lived this down on a regular day. Maybe it's because of your no sex relationship? Still, this is aberrant of him. He shouldn’t fail to notice how that last moan of yours was not of comfort.

“Right?” He adds, his eyes gauging your own.

So that’s how it is. He is aware. But he’s giving you the option to disregard what just almost happened. You’re relieved, but also confused at the tiny shards of disappointment prickling in your chest. This is what you wanted, for you to avoid sex and Kuroo in the same room. It shouldn’t be confusing.

You look down and break away from the eye contact. You put a hand on your hip and the other on your temple, which then moves to brush your hair back.

With a long, audible puff, you speak.

“Of course, it was nothing,” you return to his gaze with a dry expression to camouflage the lie behind your words. But at the same time, you also wait for him to say something or for his eyes to show something other than indifference. You don’t know what it is you want or expect, but you wait for it. You’ll know it when you see it.

It doesn’t come though as he shrugs it off like it was nothing.

Disappointed, that’s what you are. You don’t like the feeling, but you are.

—

You ring your driver again, hoping that this time he’ll finally answer. If he doesn’t get to you any soon, you’ll be late for your shoot. You can’t be late for this shoot in particular. Mitsuki’s the creative director. She’s a very pleasant one, but she absolutely hates tardiness. No exceptions. She gets all sour and crank when someone’s late.

The other end of the line picks up. “Ms l/n. I’m so sorry. One of the tires got flat. I need to change it, but I’m still stuck in traffic.”

Of all the days to get a flat tire on a heavy traffic, it had to be this day. You exhale heavily to clear the irritation getting under your skin.

“How long before you’re here?”

“I think about an hour, Ms.”

You aren’t the type to get mad at hired help, but you’re really in a pinch. In an hour, you should be in hair and make up already, not arriving only then. Mitsuki gets enraged when someone’s 15 minutes late. To be late an hour, you can’t imagine how she’d be. There’s no way you’re going to wait here for an hour.

“Don’t come anymore. Just get it fixed.” You say coldly before you end the call. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. You wouldn’t bother getting a driver if your car hadn’t been acting up recently. Being dumb this morning, you forgot about your busted car and was late in this morning’s meeting with a client. You found yourself brisk walking in heels at the hotel’s lobby earlier just to save yourself from any more delayed minutes. And now, even your driver’s car is jacked up.

“Y.n?”

You turn around at the recognizable calm voice you heard. It’s Kenma, except he wasn’t alone. Kuroo is right there beside him. It was kind of weird to see them together at this place and both in business wear.

“What’re you two doing here?”

“I’m working with Kenma here to sponsor our next promotional video.”

You just stared at the two of them. You’re used to the three of you just fooling around when you’re together. Meeting like this when you’re all in the middle of doing your jobs is something new to you.

“And who might you be giving a hard time on the phone, hmm y.n.?”

They heard that? They must both be near while you were getting bummed out from being late this morning and potentially late this afternoon.

“Ah! I need to go. My driver can’t make it. I’m going to be late,” you spiral back to your hectic schedule. “Bye.” You give them a quick wave, and despite your heels, you walk as fast as you could towards the entrance of the hotel.

You try to hail cabs that were passing by, but almost every cab was occupied. And for some reason, someone always managed to get the empty cabs before you can even spot them. To worsen your luck, it began to rain. You frantically tap your left foot on the concrete as the panic sets in you.

Mitsuki’s gonna kill me.

You bite your lip and contemplate how you’re going to arrive in the venue on time. The answer you found made you turn back on your heels to go back inside the hotel, only to find them already there behind you.

“You’re here,” you exhale, relieved that they haven’t gone anywhere out of your sight. “I’m in a bind. Can anyone give me a ride?”

The two men exchanged pithy looks, but you don’t bother figuring out what that could’ve meant. You just need the help you typically won’t ask for since you’re always doing things on your own.

“I can’t. I have a stream coming up. Sorry, y.n.” Kenma first spoke. You shift to Kuroo, hoping that he can give you the time of day. “Yea, sure. Am free for the rest of the day actually.” He says with a brief smile.

“Oh, thank God!” The panic and nerves were clearing out of your system. Despite the awkwardness of your previous massage fiasco, right now, you’re glad that he can help.

“Bye, then.” Kenma quickly took his leave as the hotel valet stepped out from his car and handed him his keys.

“Should we go now?” Kuroo asked. “Aren’t we waiting for your car?” “No. I don’t want strangers handling my car.” “Then why did you go here?”

Amusement shows on his face at your question. “I saw your cute attempt to hail a cab. Is that how rich kids do it? Let someone else steal their ride for them?” You smile sweetly, disgustingly sweet, then roll your eyes before saying, “Let’s just go.”

You told him the location of the shoot. The drive was comfortable as you both share work conversations with your usual banters on the side. Being friends with Kuroo is confusing and reassuring at the same time. With the history you two shared, you need to tread the waters of your friendship carefully every once in a while. If it wasn’t the sexual tension, it was the affection you felt towards him that would sometimes seem like resurfacing. Even with all that, you can’t bear to walk away from what you presently have. You feel like you really found genuine company with him and Kenma.

“We’re here. Let me just get an umbrella.” He looks back to the back seat and stretches his right arm to reach for it. The current angle of his face emphasized his sharp jaw and the length of his neck. You were just thinking how you need to tread carefully, but easier said than done when you know exactly how your fingers have grazed that jaw, how your tongue has tasted that neck, and much more.

“What’s taking you so long? I might as well get drenched from the rain,” you snap because you can’t stand your own indecent thoughts.

“Found it.” He says and returns to his normal sitting position. “Why the hell are you suddenly cranky? Geez.” You feel bad for being suddenly grouchy. He was just being nice and you were being nasty for reasons you can’t tell him. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late,” you apologized.

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “Hey. Where’s my umbrella?” You ask when you see him reaching for the door with only one umbrella in his hand.

“We’re sharing this. I only have one.”

You purse your lips to the side and sharply avert your eyes elsewhere, your irritation resurfacing again. You feel uncomfortable with the idea of being that physically close to him. You’ve pushed the massage incident behind, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about it.

“What is up with you? What are you so pissed about?”

“Nothing. Can we go now?”

He stares at you for a good 3 seconds before getting out and opening his umbrella. He moves to your side of the vehicle and opens the door. You get out and try to avoid any raindrops. He closes the door and presses his car keys to lock the vehicle.

You both start to walk towards the entrance of the place. You’ve never felt more awkward in your life. You’re avoiding getting past the edge of the umbrella while also avoiding Kuroo’s body.

“Why is your umbrella so small?”

“The heck are you talkin about? This is the standard size.”

You don’t answer him. The umbrella isn’t small. He’s just huge and his whole body occupied almost all the space under the shade. You flinch when he suddenly grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you close, so close that you can feel the firmness of his body pressed onto yours.

You raise your gaze to him with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re gonna get wet if we don’t huddle closer.” You could accept his reason, if only you didn’t catch the miniscule curl of his lips and the skittish glint in his eyes. It was so typical of him really. Maybe you should stop being so worked up all the time.

“Fine.” Even though he was messing you, you can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable. You’re safe from the rain and his body provided heat from the coldness of the downpour.

He doesn’t do or say anything more as you both get to the doorway of the bar where the shoot will be held. He puts down the umbrella when you reach the shade of the building. Before you’re able to get away from Kuroo’s hold, the door opens. Mitsuki was holding her phone to her ear when she met your eyes.

“I was calling you and you weren’t — oh.” Her eyes flew to the hand on your shoulder and traveled to its owner. “Well, well, y/n. You leave for a good while, then come back loaded.” You can always count on Mitsku to not hold her tongue. You gently release yourself from Kuroo’s hold to avoid looking defensive. “It’s not like that,” was your thrift reply.

“Kuroo, this is Mitsuki, my creative director for today, sometimes my friend too. Mitsuki, this is Kuroo.”

Both of them exchange casual greetings for meeting the first time.

“How come you mention our relationship, but not yours?” referring to you and Kuroo. You sigh. “He’s also a friend.” You turn to Kuroo and thank him for the ride and his time.

“Is your driver picking you up?” he asked.

You seal your eyes shut at your own stupidity. Because you were panicking and irritated, you sent your driver home. You open them again and purse your lips in a straight line. “No. I’ll just take a cab.”

“With your cab-hailing skills in this rain? Good luck with that.” he snorts. “Haha. Real funny.” From the corner of your eyes, you see Mitsuki with an entertained grin on her face, obviously enjoying the exchange between you and Kuroo.

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up then.” You want to protest but it will just drag on. You don’t want Mitsuki seeing more of the dynamics of your relationship, so you thriftly say “Okay.”

“Kuroo-san, right?” Both of you shift your attention to Mitsuki. “Actually, we need a male model because the scheduled one today is a total wimp and cancelled last minute.” She shamelessly eyed Kuroo from head to toe. So that’s why she was about to call you. The shoot was cancelled.

When she looks at you, you mouth the word “no” to let her know that she shouldn’t do what you think she’s about to do. The reaction you got was her smiling widening before speaking to Kuroo. “Do you have an agent? Can we talk over the phone right now to discuss?”

That’s when you step forward. “Uhhh. He’s not a model. He used to be a volleyball player, hence the height and build.” You say defensively. You nudge Kuroo with your elbow so that he’ll back you up, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s just there waiting for Mitsuki’s next words.

“An athlete, I see.” She nods approvingly. “That’s perfect! I don’t have to talk to anyone. It’s completely up to you then.”

“Errr. I don’t really know anything about modeling. Sorry.”

Your relief was short-lived when she tugs you to her direction and grips both of your shoulders. “Then your friend here can guide you. She’ll be your co-model anyways.”

He probably figured out by now why you were so apprehensive during the conversation just now. You don’t want him as your co-model.

His grin just confirmed your thoughts. “I’ll go for it then.” His eyes sparkling with mischief made you surrender. You already admit defeat in your head even though the shoot is just about to start.

You both get in hair and makeup. Being a woman, you take longer to finish. The clothes the stylists are arranging on you are taking while as well. They let you wear a very long, elegant gold dress that fits your upper body like your second skin, but the material is flowy from your waist down. When you arrive at the set, he’s already there talking with Mitsuki while waiting for you. Mitsuki notices you first. “Alright! We’re good to go.”

When Kuroo faces you, you almost don’t recognize him. His usual emo bangs were gone. They brushed his hair up cleanly. The suit he was wearing earlier was replaced by gray slacks and white long sleeve polo that has two top buttons open. You have conflicted feelings towards the hair and make up staff that did the work. They did a remarkable job with his overall style. He does look like a model like this. But also, why the hell did they make him look this damn good? The regular Kuroo was bad enough for you.

“This feels weird. I feel like I have too many things on me.” You scowl at his remark. “Too many? Wanna try being a girl?” He’s about to retort but Mitsuki claps twice which calls both of your attention.

“So our client is a liquor brand and the theme is something like wild love at the bar. What I want is you two giving the impression of having a passionate first encounter while you’re out drinking. Give me something and we’ll work it out as we go on, mkay?”

You knew you’d be working with a male model for this brand, but you didn’t expect that they’d go with something like this. You thought it was just going to be glamour shots to showcase the drink.

But what Mitsuki said, ‘Wild love at the bar’?? That is not something you’d want to be doing with him. It reminded you of the first night you met.

“I’m all ears on what to do, y/n” His haughty smile doesn’t help the situation one bit. You take a deep breath. This is not the time to muck around. You’re the experienced one, so you’ll be taking the lead. “Swear to me that you’ll take this seriously.” You glare at him, no trails of humor apparent. The change in his demeanor surprised you. You forgot how intimidating he can get when he’s serious. You’re so used to him being an idiot all the time that it catches you off guard. But for today, you’re glad to have it.

You explain to him how the whole shoot will go. For the first shot, you ask a staff member for a chair and tell Kuroo to sit on it. “Get the glass with the liquor and look at the camera while holding it.” He did as you told, except he has this perplexed look on his face with a noticeable discomfort from the way his lips curled in a corner.

“On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea,” he said after trying the first time. You want to agree with him, but the shoot is already happening. You just want to get over it already since you’re already there. “Nooo. Uh-uh.” Mitsuki’s tone took a sharp turn. She wasn’t happy with what Kuroo said. “Just imagine you’re in a bar, chilling with your favorite drink and you just snagged the hottest girl in the place.”

“Hottest girl aka me,” you comment on her instruction. That seemed to work because he changed back to his normal self and looked at you with amusement. “Just like the night we met, huh?” He said it low enough for only you to hear, but you still glanced nervously to Mitsuki if she caught any of it.

“That’s a nice expression, Kuroo! Keep looking at her like that.” You ease up since it looks like she didn’t hear it. You put your elbow on his shoulder and tilt your hips to give your waist an S curve while angling your body towards him at the same time. You lift your chin up a bit and look at the camera with parted lips.

“Yep. Looking good dear.” Mitsuki signals the photographer to start taking the shots. You both slightly alter your angles so the pose will have variations. Sometimes you look at Kuroo, smile flirtatiously at him, or look at the camera in a sultry way. Every time you two would look at each other, you’d ‘cheat’ and look at the bridge of his nose to give the illusion that you’re actually looking at his eye.

While looking at the shots from a separate screen, she suddenly asks the photographer to stop. You both straighten your bodies while awaiting instructions. “It looks nice,” she said before looking at your direction. “But it’s boring. There’s nothing wild about it.” You space out for a bit because for the first time, you don’t know how to proceed. You’re used to fashion shoots and runway. You’ve never had an ad with this theme. “Y.n, dear, can you be a bit aggressive towards him?”

You raise your eyebrow from disbelief. “A-aggressive?”

Mitsuki nods. “Throw yourself at him, dominate him, take control. mkay?” You feel a bit pressured when she’s just looking at you two and waiting for you to start posing for the camera. You don’t have a solid idea in your head, but you just go for it. You try to prop yourself up on the bar counter, but your dress won’t allow you.

Kuroo notices your dilemma and gets up from his seat. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.” He positions himself in front of you and grabs your waist. His hands were strong yet gentle. With your palms still on the surface of the counter, he lifts you up while you put weight on your arms so you can usher yourself properly. You’ve been deliberately avoiding his gaze, but right now, your eyes are glued to his face.

“Yes. Like that.” You both flick your gaze towards Mitsuki. “Do that.” She instructs the photographer to move the side so the angle of the shot captures you both without him blocking you completely. You realize the position you two have. “I agreed to this to make you uncomfortable, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m the one extremely uncomfortable right now.” Kuroo whispers with a hint of regret on his face. The camera flashes start going off but something clicked between the two of you that you two end up laughing. It’s probably the awkwardness and the nerves that’s been hanging on the air that something so shallow as Kuroo admitting his uneasiness, cracked you both up.

It was just a brief exchange of laughter but you feel relaxed. Even though Mistuki is pretty cool for a creative director, she’s still as serious as any professional. So when you see her smiling as you apologized for the delay, you’re a bit shocked.

“No worries dear. Let’s continue then.”

You feel more confident now. You’re you. The reason you became successful on an international level is because of your professionalism and ability to produce quality results.

From being seated on the counter, you’re a few centimeters taller than Kuroo. That completed the idea in your head. You took the glass drink and placed it on your right hand. “Put your hands on my hips,” you tell him then lightly lift his chin with your index finger, “and look at me like you worship me.” The command earned a raised eyebrow from him but you pay no heed to it.

You extend an arm over his right shoulder, the glass dangling on your fingertips. With your index finger on his chin, you look to the camera with provocative eyes. If anything looks wrong with Kuroo, you’ll just let Mitsuki handle it. After all, she’s the one who asked him to be a part of this.

“Oh yea! That’s really good.” Compared to before, she looks pleased with the shots now. The pose was captured a few times before she speaks again. “Instead of using your finger, grab his hair to tilt his head back.” You comply immediately and tugs his locks downwards. You might’ve done it a bit rougher than you wanted because you heard a raspy grunt from his throat. You got distracted, so instead of looking at the camera, you look at him.

You regret it. When you said he should look at you with worship, you didn’t think he’d do it this well. Because his hair is pushed completely all the way back, you see every aspect of his face. Nothing was blocking his eyes that were full of yearning and desire. He’s looking at you like you’re not just the hottest girl in the bar, but the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes one.

“Pull him closer and look here y.n.” You do as you’re told, thankful that you needed to look somewhere else. “Damn. You two look so good right now.” She gently claps her hands while looking at the monitor.

“I’m already satisfied, but let’s just do one more for another option. Umm, Kuroo. You be the aggressor this time. Y/n, …. you know what to do.” She winks after.

Well, not really you don’t. She just wants you to do the thinking on what to do. You put the glass down and put both your hands on his shoulders. “Help me down?” You ask with an easygoing smile. You don’t want to ruin the momentum of the shoot, so you decide to be nice to him for now.

“You got it,” then his hand travels up your waist and guides you down back to the floor. You tell him to lean on the counter. He follows with no complaints. You get his arm and ushers him to wrap it on your waist. When he goes along with your silent instruction, you raise your leg to his side.

“Tug my skirt up to my thighs.”

He doesn’t react and just squints at you.. “Huh?” Since he did not grasp what you meant, you take it to yourself to do it and slowly gather the material at the ends. Then, you yank it up to your thigh. “Get it?” He whistles as he gets the cloth from your hands. “Hey. Don’t do that. If you’re a real model, you’d be in trouble if I report that behavior.”

“But I’m not a real model, am I?” You glare at his provocation. You won’t be having any of his crap at your workplace. “Kuroo,” you say with a menacing glare and he immediately gets the threat behind it. “My bad, my bad. I’ll behave again, kay? Stop scowling now.” You relax your face and take a deep breath. “Moving on then.” You enclose your left arm on his neck while you plant your right on his chest. You don’t want to direct him any further than this. If this is unsatisfactory, Mitsuki will say something.

Aaaand she does. “Kuroo-san. Aggressive please. Own her. You don’t want her to get away from you.” Upon hearing Mitsuki’s additional instructions, everything about him intensifies three folds. He pulls you even closer, causing your breath to hitch when his face is dangerously near yours all of a sudden. His sleeves don’t do anything to mask the firmness of his arms. And even with the velvet fabric, you can still the strength of his thighs as they’re pinned on yours. The heat of his hand ignited the skin of your thigh as he clutched the fabric and your flesh forcefully. And his eyes, they no longer worship you. They spoke of something similar, but not quite.

He wants to devour you whole.

It was too overwhelming for you, so you look away and close your eyes dramatically to make it seem like you’re being swept away in the moment. After one camera flash, “Okay dear, but I need you to look at him this time.”

The few seconds of breaking away from his fiery stare did you some good. You were able to collect yourself again, but not enough to truly look at him. You just focus your gaze right between his eyes as you did earlier.

“Nooo. When I said look at him, I meant really look at him. Respond with your own passion. You’re looking a bit of a scared vegetable right now, honey.” You’ve never had feedback like that in forever. Maybe when you tried modeling the first few months, you received something similar to that. But never when you started doing it full time.

You don’t want to, but you have to. You finally meet his gaze and tap into something inside yourself that you’ve been holding back. You let your desire for him deluge you, let it surge through your veins until you’re aching for him. You push yourself even closer to him, not allowing even air to pass between your bodies.

“Yes! YES! You want him so much, but you shouldn’t.”

It was just as she said. You want him so much, so much that it almost hurts. You part your lips slightly as you get lost in the moment.

“Oh my God.” Her words sounded distant. It was there. You can hear it, but what clouded your senses was your heart pounding hard against your chest, his hot breath mingling with yours, and the way his eyes are now devoted to your lips. Not long after, he angles his face so that your lips are almost touching. Just a tiptoe and a kiss will already take place. You clench your fingers on his shirt, holding yourself back from that one tiny push that will allow you to feel his lips on yours again.

“Holy Shit! HOLY SHIT! That was it. That was the money shot.” Mitsuki’s shrill voice which was followed by her squeal broke the trance you were in. You know what she meant. The shoot is done. Yet, you still feel hot. The heated atmosphere around you two still hasn’t caved in. He let go of your thigh as you put some space away from him. You settle your hands on his shoulders while you rest your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t move either. His hand remains on your waist, but without the force this time. With his other hand, he caringly skims the curve of your shoulder.

“You okay, kitten?”

His voice is so gentle, you nearly convince yourself that it sounded loving. You nod weakly before heading back to the dressing room without saying anything.

Kuroo’s gaze followed your back as you disappeared. He was amazed but also bothered at what just happened. You looked really into it, like you really wanted him. If the shoot didn’t finish any sooner, he might have closed that tiny gap that separated your lips from his. He’s been aching for you for so long that his control is slipping inch by inch every time there’s an opportunity to cross that line of friendship you set. When he saw you let go and completely relent within his hold, it was maddening at how he couldn’t have you at the moment. What’s worse is that even without the glamorous set, he knows you’re still not his to have.

He walks towards the room where his clothes were hung and changes back to his usual suit. He asked the make up staff to remove everything on his face. He doesn’t like the feeling of having a layer of cosmetics on his skin. The hair they couldn’t do anything about because they used a lot of product to fix it up.

When he gets out of the room, Mitsuki approaches him with a satisfied look on her face

“You did so well for someone with no experience at all. Do you have a card? I can hook you up for other gigs. You’ll do great.”

He smiles graciously at her generous offer, but he doesn’t want it. “Sorry, but I’m not really interested. I only did it cause it was her.” He said truthfully. Mitsuki’s mouth curled in amusement. “You know, y.n’s really good to work with. She always had this cool facade that never went down, and it works for her. We love her for it. But today,” she pauses as she gives him a meaningful look. “I’ve never seen her show such vulnerability and rawness. It was,” she sighs with admiration for you.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?” He knows exactly what she’s saying. After all, he has seen several times how captivating your authenticity can be.

“Soo, are you two dating or what?” Her eyebrows twitch up and down from anticipation at what he’s about to answer. He badly wants to say yes, but he doesn’t have that luxury. “Naaah. Like she said, I’m just a friend.”

She’s obviously dissatisfied with his response. He is too, but that’s the lousy truth. Out of the blue, she takes her phone out. “Too bad though. You two looked really good here.” She showed him the photo and it was you and him earlier. You were seated in the counter with your arms on his shoulders and his hands on your waist. It was when you were both laughing at his stupid statement.

“Can you send me that photo?”

“Why should I?”

He’s well aware of what she’s trying to do. It’s a business transaction, except for the lack of formality. She wants to get something in return, and he knows exactly what it is.

“You’re good.” He admits with an impressed glint in his eyes.

“I am. So what’ll it be?” He knows that she knows she has the upperhand of the negotiation. She could probably tell that there’s something going on with the two of you. It’s just a matter of deciding which information to give her. But he didn’t have the fortune of having too many options. He didn’t want to reveal the nature of your relationship before. He wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He can only speak for himself.

“Fine. I sorta like her.”

Her eyes brighten up. “Aha! I knew it. You should totally ask her out, kay? You’re gonna have tall and beautiful babies.” She put one hand on her cheek and closed her eyes while screeching at her own daydream of you and him getting together. When she calms down, she sends you the image file. “For real though. I’ve never seen her like that,” she points to your dazzling face in laughter in the photo.

“Hey. What’re you two talking about?” You’re back to your normal clothes, but your hair and makeup was still there.

“Nothing. Let’s go now?” He spoke immediately before your nosy director could say something. He walks to your direction before heading out together. “Bye! Update me, Kuroo-san!” Mitsuki said as she waved goodbye. You couldn’t help but be curious on what he should update her about.

The rain stopped so no more umbrella horseplay. When you both get inside his car, you immediately ask him, “What was that about?”

“Uhh. She asked if I wanted to do other modeling projects.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering, “No. That sort of stuff is not for me. I only did it to piss you off.” He starts the engine, then pivots his body to face you. “I must say though. I enjoyed seeing you eyefuck me.” Just when you are getting used to the peaceful, non-smug Kuroo, his true personality kicks right back in. Good thing you took your time getting changed and basically just calmed yourself down.

“Glad you did. That’s the most you can get from me after all.”

His smile turned upside down at your remark. “Tch.” Your lips tug upwards at the side from his lack of retaliation.

“I haven’t told you yet, but it wasn’t my first modeling experience.”

You’re a bit surprised. Even though he has the appearance of a model, you didn’t think he’d do it. You agree with what he said just a while ago. It wasn’t for him. He’s best at his job right now.

He gets his phone and scrolls up. He must be looking for a photo to show you as proof. When you see his screen, your heart swells. It was you and him a year ago. The neckline of your shirt was pulled to your shoulder for a makeshift off-shoulder while he knotted his t-shirt to form a crop top. You two wore large smiles while posing silly in front of the cam. It was right after when you told him that you’re a model.

“I- you... umm. You kept these?” You swipe the screen and see every single photo you took that day. Not one was deleted. You remember the laughter and absurd joy behind each frame.

“Yea. Why wouldn’t I?”

One more swipe and there’s no other photo after yours. That’s when you notice that the photos are in the Favorites album. You felt like you were about to tear up. You’ve never felt so cherished in your whole life. Even though you left without saying a proper goodbye and no indication of going back, he still kept them. You tried so hard to forget about him, yet there he was, keeping these small tokens of what you had - proof that you really had been a part of his life.You felt something inside you crumble piece by piece. You should be scared, but at the moment, you don’t feel any fear. Instead, you were enraptured.

You can feel your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin is. You don’t bother hiding it from him.

“Can you send these to me?” You turn to him with the smile still plastered on your face, but he frowns at your question.

“Those photos came from you.”

You look back at his phone, your big smile reduced into a faint one that’s traced with melancholy. “I deleted them when I went to the US.” If he asks why, you wouldn’t know how to answer. Fortunately, he doesn’t. He gets his phone back from your hand and fiddles with it a bit. A few seconds later, you hear a notification from your own phone. When you open it, all the photos are sent to you.

He looks at you warmly, his face devoid of anything but heartfelt fondness. “There. Like you never got rid of them.”

---

You lie on your bed with bottomless thoughts that night. Kuroo’s words weighed more than they should in your head as you stare at the photos.

You deleted them to completely erase any trace of his existence in your life. Now they’re back in your phone with not a single photo missing from the stack. Ironically, it’s also you who asked for them back. Yet, you don’t mind. You came to accept that those memories existed. They happened. There’s no use trying to forget they did when he’s already back in your life anyways.

Looking at you and Kuroo in the images, you can’t avoid thinking how simple those times were. You were just two cool people who had sex for fun. You had no clue things would happen as they did - falling for him, leaving, and for some reason - destiny or whatever, meeting him again. The past you tried to leave behind crept up to you and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

You thought you’ve moved on. You’ve thoroughly convinced yourself that you’ve disposed of all unnecessary emotions that involved Kuroo. You thought that whatever it is that you felt when you met him again was just remnants of yesterday. You were so wrong. That‘s just what you tried to tell yourself, repeating the idea over and over in your head until you believed it.

But it never really happened. You haven’t forgotten about him. When you went on dates in the U.S., you’d remember him. So you stopped trying to see anyone and attributed that to being scared of getting hurt again. Hence, you shut yourself out to anyone until you no longer found dating to be interesting. You told yourself getting in a relationship would just get in the way of your career.

That wasn’t true.

The truth is just as he said. Your feelings for him are still there, you never did get rid of them. The question now is how to proceed from here.

You jerk when your phone rings right at your hand.

‘Kuroo’

You don’t want to answer it. You basically just admitted to yourself that you’re still in love with him. Hearing his voice right now would be dangerous for your fragile heart.

But it might be something important. He doesn’t usually call.

You press the answer button. You were about to say hello, but your heart was beating so fast that you were unable to get any word out.

“Hello?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat so you could speak. “Yeah?”

“Is something wrong? You sound a bit off?” How he could tell even through a phone call is unbelievable. “Everything’s fine. Why’d you call anyways?” You do your best to sound normal. “Block your Thursday next week. I’m throwing a party.”

“What for?”

“Mmm. Just felt like having one.”

You minimize the call to check your calendar if you had any plans that day. “Alright. I have an event in the morning, but that night’s free.”

“Nice!!” He sounded a bit too glad.

“Is that why you called?” It’s a bit suspicious that he rang you just for that. It’s just a party. He could’ve texted you instead.

“Why? Am I not allowed to call when I want to?” Your heart skips a beat from the playful tone in his voice. You picture him smirking on his phone while he’s lying in bed. You bite your lip at the image in your head.

Screw you and your stupid imagination.

“Good night, Kuroo.” You said dismissively. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else important anyways. He chuckles from the other line before speaking so ever softly with tenderness that gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“Good night, kitten.”

It was just a simple good night but you were reeling. You fight the smile that was forcing itself to form on your lips. You look at your photos one more time and sigh.

You are so in love with him.

On the other end, Kuroo is all smiles to himself. Nothing beats hearing your voice after a long day. Once again, he stares at the photo Mitsuki gave him that afternoon. He wishes it was real. He wishes you were smiling for him, laughing with him, and happy with him. If only you gave any indication that you like him more than a friend, he would’ve made his move.

Even though he knows you still desire him, he wouldn’t settle for just sex. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past. He wants something further than that and more importantly, you deserve better than that. But so far, he could tell you were enjoying the friendship and companionship only. Even if he wanted to take things forward, he’s not sure that that’s what you want. You haven’t given anything away for him to make his move. He doesn’t want to risk it and have you running for the hills.

Will he ever make you fall for him? Should he just leave things as is or do something bolder for you to realize that to him, you’re not just a friend?

He sighs.

He’s so in love with you.

Part 6 | Part 8 | m.list

taglist: @lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @babythotshq @arendizzle

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fanfiction #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu imagines

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morkleemelon · 4 years

Text

Jet Lag✈️

1) you and Mark are both idols and you're on video call from different countries and you miss each other. You surprise Mark secretly visiting Korea and you then surprise him in his room and you guys cuddle and stuff ^~^

@smolninja thank you for your request! I hope it’s everything you wanted! I’m sorry for the delay, I had so many issues with Tumblr and accidentally deleted it when I was like 70% done it was so sad. Nonetheless, I really liked writing it! Enjoy :)

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Fem Idol!reader x Mark Lee

The set up: you’re in a 7 member kpop group called Girl Trouble and you’ve just finished the first concert of your Japanese tour. We’re pretending corona doesn’t exist :) The general public does not know that you are dating Mark Lee

-----

You feel the van come to a stop as flashing lights bloom from outside the tinted windows, waking you from your much needed sleep.

“We’re at the hotel y/n,” your bandmate, Yeeun, informs, fixing her hair in her phone camera to make sure she was ready to be photographed.

The excited cheers coming from the street bring you out of your sleepy stupor and you stretch your arms above you in a big yawn.

“How do I look?” you ask Nayoo, your best friend in the group who’s sitting next to you, touching up her concealer.

“Perfect as always y/n, duh,” she replied, playfully winking as she put her stuff away.

“Ok I’m opening the door!” you warn as you grab the handle and take a deep breath, putting on your best smile.

Swinging the door open, you’re met with an uproar of fans calling out your name and a storm of camera flashes eager to capture your latest look. It was your group’s first time in Japan so the fans were especially excited to finally have the chance to see you.

*Click click click click*

You stepped out of the car as gracefully as you could, smile never faltering as you showed off your pearly white teeth and prize-winning dimples. Brushing your hair back slightly as you walk, you tease your new gold earrings as a subtle endorsement to the brand. Your members following suit, you wave to the crowd and make your way to the entrance, nodding at a few fansites you recognized.

- - -

Throwing yourself onto the bed, your freshly showered hair promptly soaks through the comforter but you couldn’t care less.

“Ugh...,” you sighed, melting into the plush goodness of the hotel mattress, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

If only he were here with you...

“Oh!” you gasp, head shooting up from your now wet pillow, “I promised I’d call!”. You rolled off the bed and scrambled to find your phone in your bag, suddenly wide awake.

“You’re calling loverrr boyyyy?” Nayoo teased, dragging out the letters because she knew how much you hated it.

“Stopppp!” you whined, throwing your soggy pillow at her and trying to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

Frantically unlocking your phone, you scroll through your contacts to find your boyfriend, heart racing with anticipation. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Mark and you know it’ll be a few more until you have the chance. You promised each other to call whenever you could, but with NCT dream having a new comeback and Girl Trouble was starting to be really popular, there was only so much you could do. On top of that, it was stressful trying to keep your relationship a secret with all of the prying eyes around you and Mark’s intense fan base. Nevertheless, you’ve been going strong for about 8 months now you know that everything, every struggle, is worth it because of how much you truly love him.

Calling: Baby💕💋🦁...

You don’t bother to fix your makeup-less face and frizzy hair because you know that he’ll say you’re beautiful.

You smile at the thought of him as the FaceTime chimes ring.

*whoom*

“Marky!” you whisper cry, heart racing with excitement as you see his face for the first time in days.

“Baby!” Mark squeals back in the same tone, losing himself to giggles as you both giddily recover from the excitement of getting to see each other. You can hear the sound of voices mocking him in the background and Chenle’s piercing scream cuts through the audio.

“How have you been, baby?” you ask adoringly, ignoring the dreamies and look longingly at the boy in round glasses and his favorite grey hoodie.

“Shut up guys! I’m trying to talk to y/n!” he yells back at them, met with only more mocking and screaming. Sighing and giving up, he turns back to the camera, “Ah you know, I’ve been alright. We’ve been pretty busy with practice. I’m actually at practice right now if you can’t tell”. He pans the camera to the other members of dream who are clearly only taking a break because Mark made them stop for this phone call.

Guilt grips at you as you realize how you were probably inconveniencing them. After all, it was getting late and they all have to stay even later now because of you.

“Oh... if now’s not a good time we can always try tomorrow,” you offer, smiling slightly but not enough to hide your disappointment and guilt.

“Aw baby I’m sorry,” Mark soothes, “don’t worry about us I didn’t mean it like that. I missed you so much and these guys can spare a few minutes it’s fine”.

“I wish you were here, Mark. Or I was there,” you whisper, lying down on your bed once again. Placing your phone in front of you, it’s almost, almost, as if he were there lying with you.

Mark wears a pensive expression as he looks down, using his free hand to fiddle with his hoodie strings.

“Yeah. Me too”.

His voice is strained as he thinks about the nights you’ve snuck out together and the secret dates you shared. He misses the way you feel in his arms and the way your soft hair felt when it tickled him awake in the morning. He misses your terrible dad jokes and your night cooking. It was really frustrating how you were both so young and so in love, but everything else in life had to get in the way. Mark really missed you.

You reach out instinctively to stroke his hair but instead of comforting the boy you loved, your hands are met with only the cold surface of your screen.

The two of you talked for a few more minutes, trying to make the most of the time before he had to go. You could tell by the way his voice strained that he was really exhausted.

When he finally hung up, you couldn’t shake the empty feeling off; not being next to him, being able to touch him, to comfort him, to be with him was the worst feeling in the world.

And before you could stop yourself, warm tears began to fall as your shoulders shook with your heartbroken sobs. Video calls were supposed to make you miss each other less, not more. You loved him so much that you’d miss him even if he was right there with you. Being apart was devastating.

“Oh, honey…,” Nayoo coos, crawling into your bed to give you a much needed hug, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Let it out”.

Wrapping your arms around your best friend, you let the tears fall onto your already soaked pillow and spilling out the feelings you’ve kept buried inside for so long.

“I just miss him so much,” you gasp, squeezing your fists around the fabric of Nayoo’s sweatshirt.

“Oh I know y/n, I know,” she comforted, “remember back when we were trainees and you just started dating Mark? And I was always there to distract Manager Kim when you snuck out to meet him?”.

You let out a small laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood. Nayoo was truly a good friend and she always had your back. You were really lucky to have her in your life.

“I do, Nayoo. I never thanked you enough for that”

“You know I love you. I’d do it again now if you wanted to sneak out and meet him. Actually I bet you could pull it off since our next show isn’t for another 4 days”

“Wait…”

Both of you sat up at the same time, looking at each other with wide eyes.

------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Shush! We already bought the tickets there’s no backing out now”

“What if someone notices me?”

“They won’t. Look at you”

You looked in the mirror of the lobby bathroom you were hiding in. You were dressed in plain, unbranded clothes, your hair tucked in a low, messy bun. The majority of your face was covered by a mask and a baseball hat, making you look nearly unidentifiable to anyone looking.

“I guess,” you sighed, still nervous, “let’s just go over the plan again”.

“Alright sheesh,” Nayoo groaned, “as if I am not a wizard of distracting our manager. You’ll get into the Uber we just called and go to Japan Airport. Your flight is at 2:30am and you’ll arrive in Korea at about 4:00am. Then you’ll go to Mark’s dorm and make out with him yadda yadda-”.

You punched her in the arm.

“Okay! Did I lie though? Anyways, you’ll be on your return flight the next day at the same time so you better savor your time. MY job is to tell Manager Kim that you are having lady problems and you can’t make it to practice today. He hates when we talk about periods so this is fool proof seriously. Plus we know that you will do fine on stage without one day of practice”.

“Okay…,” you chewed your lip nervously, half dreading the thought of being caught and half thrilled at the thought of being in Mark’s arms in a few hours. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you looked at the notification.

*your Uber driver Ayako is here! Look for license plate A29&Q on a black Honda Pilot*

Hugging Nayoo goodbye, you rush out of the hotel and into the cab, adjusting your cap and mask to make sure it covers your face.

Each second that passed, you became more excited about seeing your boyfriend and less nervous about the consequences.

Mark, I’m here for you. I’m coming, just wait a little bit longer.

Your hands itched to call him and tell him what you were doing but you knew that he was catching up on some much needed sleep by now.

When you arrived at the Japan Airport, you thanked the driver and walked briskly through the airport. You had nothing except a small backpack and your plane ticket so getting through security was quick. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there at 2 in the morning so you began to relax.

Successfully making it through security, you finally board the plane and claim your seat at the very back.

Looking out the window to the dark, starry skies, the lights of the airplane wings illuminate the drops of rain that began to fall.

-----

You jolt awake as the plane lands at the South Korea Airport with a rumbling thud. Your hands dart to your face to make sure your mask and hat are still there, sighing in relief when they remain unmoved.

Grabbing your bag, you walk down the aisle of the half-empty plane, each step bringing you closer to Mark.

Rushing out of the airport, your steps gain traction as you feel your heart racing in excitement at the thought of seeing your boyfriend so soon. The cold night air greets you familiarly as you call the nearest cab over. Telling the driver the address of Mark’s dorm building, you watch as the streetlights pass by and you near the boy you’ve been dying to see for weeks.

At last, you arrive at the steps of the apartment complex. Thanking the driver, you rush into the building and attack the elevator button going up. Your breathing is shallow with excitement knowing that he’s there right now. He’s there and you’re going to be with him.

Every second in the elevator feels like hours and you kick yourself for not taking the stairs. The floors seem like they’re all a mile away from the last and you tap your foot impatiently on the carpeted floor.

8...9...10

*Ding*

You speed out of the elevator and find your way expertly to the infamous 10th floor dorm room. Feeling around the crevices of the carpet floor for the spare key, you feel a slight twinge of nerves because you’re technically breaking into their home. But, as soon as you enter the familiar room, any guilt you have washes away and the only thing you can feel is the rapid beating of your heart filled with love and anticipation.

Making your way silently through the dark common room, you stop at the oh-so-familiar door. When your hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob, you swear that the beating of your heart was loud enough to wake the entire building.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door and you see him. Your breath hitches at your throat and you fight back the urge to cry right then and there. Mark was lying on his bed, snuggled under the covers with his arms and legs wrapped around a pillow like he always does when he sleeps. His soft breathing was rhythmic and calming, the warm scent of his room inviting you in.

Without wasting another second away from him, you drop your bag on the messy floor and walk up to his bed. Carefully, you pull at the pillow in his embrace and replace it with your own body. Mark shifts slightly and you freeze, not wanting to wake him up from his rare sleep. His eyes remain closed and his arms instinctively tighten around you. You can see through the darkness that his eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips part, and you wonder if he knew you were there.

“Finally,” you thought to yourself, reaching up slowly to caress his hair, “we’re finally together”. It didn’t feel real. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here in his arms. His body was so warm and felt like home to you.

You can feel Mark’s fingers autonomously rub circles into your back. As if his body realized what was happening, Mark’s eyes opened slowly and he peered into your face, blinking slowly to process this new information.

“I’m here, Mark,” you whisper as softly as you can.

Without any hesitation, Mark leans forward and presses a deep kiss onto your lips, conveying ten thousand words with his actions that could only be interpreted as “I missed you so much”.

You kiss him back, fingers gripping onto his shirt with raw emotion in an “I missed you too”. You breathe in deeply, not wanting to forsake any aspect of him, taking in all of his scent and drinking it all like a flower with no water.

He pulls away with a sigh and presses his forehead against yours. Mumbling incoherent words, you notice that he seems to have fallen back asleep.

Your own eyelids feel heavy and they flutter closed as you succumb to the warm welcome of sleep, your heart whole with love.

-----

Dull beams of sun fell slanted through the curtains as you drifted awake the next morning. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you opened your eyes slowly, temporarily forgetting what you had done the night before. Memories flooded back and your attention narrowed in at the smiling boy in front of you.

“You’re really here,” Mark whispered, “how are you here?”.

“It’s a long story,” you whispered back, voice still hoarse from sleep.

He pulled you in closer to his chest and you gladly snuggled into his warm body, nuzzling at his favorite hoodie, the one you got him for Christmas.

“I thought it was all a dream when I saw you last night,” he admitted.

“Stay with me today?,” you ask, worried that your time together would be short. If he had to go to practice, you could hardly see him at all and you’d go back to missing him a thousand miles away.

“I’m not going anywhere today,” Mark replies, kissing the top of your head, “my wishes have finally come true and you magically appeared in my bed. I’d be an idiot to leave”.

You giggled at his words, working your fingers to draw shapes into his back.

You start to tell him what happened after you called him the night before and how devastated you were when you weren’t with him. Mark’s arms tightened around you as you told him you cried when you saw how tired he was and you weren’t there to cheer him up. You told him about how you put on a disguise and snuck around Manager Kim who thought you were dying right now. His body shook with laughter at the crazy night you had and you both agreed that this was the wildest thing you had ever done.

“How long are you gonna stay here?”

“My flight back to Japan is at 2:30am tomorrow morning. What time is it now?”

Mark shifts to unlock his phone on the nightstand.

“It’s 10:49am”

You sighed and buried your face deeper into his chest, trying to get impossibly closer to the love of your life and make the most of your hard-earned time together.

“Let’s do everything today,” you heard him say.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your chin up to look at him, pressing a small his to his jaw.

“Let’s just do everything we always wanted to do. Let’s get ramen from the convenience store together and then go on a walk at the park. Let’s get matching sweaters from the mall and then full sugar boba tea. You’ll drink half of mine and I’ll let you because I’m a good boyfriend”. Mark giggles at his imagination and peppers kisses across your face.

You laugh at the ticklish sensation and your heart swells with love for the Canadian boy.

Your whole body tingled, the feel of his body around yours and his lips on yours sending your head spinning. Rubbing your nose adoringly against his in an eskimo kiss, you vow that you would be strong for him from now on. You might be apart for work a lot, but the love you share is inseparable and undeniable. Nothing could ever come between you. You were his and he was yours.

“Let’s do it, Everything”

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janekfan · 4 years

Note

omg you're taking prompts?? best day EVER!!! i was thinking. season 2, where jon is complaining about some kind of illness/pain that's actually worse than he's letting on? maybe elias sends jon, tim, and martin on some kind of gay little errand and jon's either really ill or already hurt, and he keeps trying to communicate that he really wants to go back to the hotel and lie down, but they're so angry with him that they assume the worst? then, comfort :) if you don't like this i can try again!

@taylortut :D I hope you like it!

6 hours and 47 minutes.

The average amount of time it took the train to travel from the London station to Edinburgh.

And that being if they didn’t run into some sort of delay. Or hit a cow. Rupture the fuel line and be trapped on the tracks for the rest of the day.

Jon massaged his temples, shifting uncomfortably on the hard cushion that honestly might as well not exist for how much good it was doing him. Barely back from their mandatory thirty days leave after the Prentiss, Elias, the prat, sent them away to investigate the vaults beneath the city regarding the murders committed by Burke and Hare nigh 200 years ago.

And Jon really, really didn’t want to.

He’d been looking forward to sitting in the dark of his office and going through statements at a snail's pace and possibly, possibly skiving off early because he hurt and hadn’t been sleeping well because of it. The injuries left behind had been deep and damaging and he'd walked out of the hospital with a brand new cane. Leaning against the window and easing the weight off his left side, Jon tried to let the scenery slipping by lull him at least a little bit. Tim and Martin were spending the majority of their time in the dining car sampling the assortment courtesy of Elias’ generous travel budget and that was fine by him. While Martin may be better at hiding it, both of them were quite angry with him and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the next week spent in their company.

Pain exploded in his bones, waking him from his nap and he whacked his head against the window blinking hard, breathing shallow, as he gathered his wits about him and took in Martin sitting across from him.

“Tim,” he admonished, setting a cup of tea down in front of Jon and turning the handle toward him. “Should perk you up a bit; you look tired.”

“Yeah, Boss.” Tim mocked him, prodded a particularly sore spot on his side. “Drink your tea.” Jon chose to ignore him.

“Th’thank you, Martin.” He spoke low, shrinking away, into himself, and holding the warmth close to his chest, checking his watch: two hours and change. Surely it wouldn’t be this awkward between them the whole week?

Jon was often wrong and this experience would prove no different as he pushed himself as fast as possible following Tim and Martin, the tip of his cane clacking unevenly on the cobblestones. It was dark and he had no desire to be caught alone on the streets at night, sure that whatever else had complaints with them wouldn’t hesitate.

“Tim, slow down.”

“Ah, sorry, Marto.” Jon looked away, feeling the heavy weight of Tim’s gaze press down across his shoulders and he almost stumbled beneath it, catching himself and thankful he’d chosen a backpack instead of luggage. “Tired from the train?”

“I happen to be, yes.” Authoritative, eyes cast pointedly forward. “Besides, it’s a nice night. Let me enjoy being away from the Archives for a moment, won’t you?” Tim laughed, pounding Martin on the back, and the two discussed going out for drinks at the various pubs they passed along the way. While grateful for the decreased pace, Jon was isolated and alone, throat closing up so tight it was like choking, face turning hot, but he refused to cry.

He’d dug this grave. He’d have to lie in it.

Unable to stand one moment more after climbing the stairs to their room, Jon collapsed heavily to the couch, digging his knuckles into his thigh in an attempt to stop the awful seizing in his muscles. His whole body was trembling with fatigue and when Tim suggested it was the perfect time to head into the Vaults he could have kissed Martin for insisting he was too tired tonight because he knew he was only saying it for Jon’s benefit and he didn’t understand why. How could he...after all. He hated him and he still--

“Well, I call rooming with Martin and there’s just one bed. That leaves the couch for your skinny arse, Boss.” He batted big dark eyelashes at Martin, making the other man blush furiously and sputter and despite himself Jon smiled, just a little, bidding them a quiet good night neither of them would hear through the door between them.

He could tell already he wouldn’t be getting much sleep, if any at all. The pain wasn’t anything sharp anymore, just a low level throb impossible to ignore, and no amount of adjusting or staying still or squeezing his fists so tight crescent moons were bit into his palms would change that. So he laid there, in the dark of an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar city, filled with unfamiliar sounds and listened to the deep and even synchrony of his employees’ breath. More street lights kicked on, the glow pleasant if only because he could see, transforming eerie shadows into shapes he could identify. Jon nibbled his bottom lip, shifted, pushed his feet into the cushions to exert pressure? Release pressure? He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to accomplish other than keeping himself quiet.

Dragging his bag over he dug blindly through it for the bottle of paracetamol settled at the bottom, fighting with the child safety cap and tipping too many pills into his hand. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t touch it. Not really. But hoping for a placebo effect was better than writhing in agony and Jon swallowed them dry because getting up wasn’t an option. Rigid, shivering, he pulled up the blanket, trying to take comfort in its weight and the sun was coming up by the time heavy lashes fell shut over tired, burning eyes.

“Wakey, wakey, Boss!” Jon jerked violently awake, whole body thrumming in panic and pain before he had the sense to realize what was happening and by then Tim was gone.

“Sorry Jon, I tried to distract him.” Sheepish, Martin offered up a small smile and a cup of tea, setting it on the low table beside the couch. “You alright?” He’d relaxed back into the cushions, trying to gain back any of the soft, drifting nothingness he’d finally succumbed to and failing miserably. Good lord, he wasn’t well.

“Just fine, Martin.” Rubbing away the remnants of sleep, Jon struggled upright and took a sip. “Thank you.” Strong and dark and perfect, the caffeine would help. “When, what time are we investigating the Vaults?”

“Midnight or so? There will be fewer people on the streets then.” Silence broken only by Tim’s puttering in the room settled between them. “We’re hoping to sight see, be proper tourists for the day.”

“Ah.” He hid his disappointment behind the rim of his cup. Of course they would. Of course and they deserved it. “That sounds like a fine idea.” It didn’t. He wouldn’t make it, surely. Almost choking on his tea when his jacket came down over his head, Jon sputtered and coughed, catching a glimpse of Tim slipping on his trainers.

“And you’re not getting out of it.” Martin reacted to Jon's sigh with exasperation and hurt.

"Look, Jon. I know you'd rather be anywhere than with the two of us, but try to enjoy yourself?" And while that wasn't entirely true Jon was unfortunately too much a coward to refute it.

Which is how he found himself here, now. Nauseated, Jon sipped carefully on some juice, sitting stock still in his chair and watching Martin and Tim sample almost everything on the menu. He’d been dragged through the city and while he’d enjoyed some of the history and honestly their company, the pain cast a dark pall over the day. It was only on his third try asking for a break that they passed a pub and Martin suggested supper, and not a moment too soon. Even with the cane and Jon's white knuckle grip on his self control, his leg felt ready to give way.

“Come on,” Tim cajoled, tongue loose and on his third pint. “Don’t you want to waste Elias’ money with us?”

“Not that hungry I’m afraid, but go on. Looks good and you mustn't forget dessert.”

"Martin! You heard the boss-man!" After sitting in the low light, resting for a bit, Jon felt up to a drink, enjoying how it blurred everything at the edges and dulled the worst of it so quickly on an empty stomach.

When they returned to the room for a nap prior to their excursion, Jon barely remembered passing out on the couch.

It was cold, the jacket completely useless against the underground chill and his exposed fingers were numb on the handle of his cane, on the torch. Long after this happened, Jon asked for a reprieve. They’d been down here for hours already and they had all week so with no leads they could come back another night, couldn't they? It had fallen on deaf ears and when he tried to speak up again, this time because he’d fallen more than a few steps behind, it was clear he just needed to tough it out. Obviously, he was supposed to be handling this better and he was only embarrassing himself by being overly dramatic. Gritting his teeth, Jon pushed himself faster, catching back up only to lose ground seconds later.

“I’m. I’m sorry. I.” Why was this so hard? Asking for help, for a break, to go back and just please stop standing up. “Could we. Could we take a moment? Just. I mean--”

“Spit it out!” Tim’s frustration echoed painfully in the enclosed space, bouncing off walls and striking Jon from all angles like a series of blows. “We don’t have time for whatever you’re on about.”

We don’t have time.

“Leave off, Tim.” Something caught Martin’s eye and he veered away from the pair of them.

We don’t have time for you.

Stop it.

Stop being a child.

“Of course. Yes. Push on.”

Sick with exhaustion and shaking from pain, Jon was falling further and further behind, the torch losing its effectiveness as the dark closed in, heavy, tight, suffocating. He couldn’t call out. They wouldn’t. He. They’d made how they felt clear and asking again would only be shameful. But his cane wasn’t enough anymore and it dropped from his ennervated fingers, clattering to the ground while he held onto the wall with both hands. He’d be lost here, buried here, in the oppressive black, his body saved by the End for experimentation and dissected by medical students and he didn't think he cared about being forgotten but the thought of it felt far too real. He sobbed. It echoed. And he clapped his hands over his mouth and let the tears glance off them as he slid to the ground.

He’d just hide here. In the dark behind his eyelids, stifling the pathetic sounds forcing their way up his throat and between his teeth. If he was quiet he wouldn’t be found, nothing could find him if he was quiet. Not the things scuttling around in the black, not the pain doing its level best to gnaw its way through his skin, not the overwhelming weariness clawing open his chest, between his ribs.

“Jon!” He flinched. He hurt. He curled tighter despite it. He didn’t want to be found. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. “J--Christ, Jon.” Martin’s heavy footsteps slowed to a stop on the stone in front of him, shifted nervously. “Hey, what’s. Jon? What’s wrong?”

“M’.” But it was so much more than that and he didn’t know how to explain, so he didn’t and Martin’s voice came from above him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn't you say it was this bad? ” But he had. He had tried. Hadn’t he? After being ignored he thought he was just being needy and dramatic. Annoying. Tim had similar injuries and he was fine. Jon ducked his head into folded arms, shoulders hitching with a shaky breath. He didn’t know what to say or how to justify how bad off he was.

“S’sorry.” He’d have to stand in a moment. To continue the investigation and even the thought made him want to cry. “Just need a. N’need.” But it hurt so much and when the next breath he reached for broke open he heard Martin sigh heavily, shoes scuffing the ground and this time his words were at his level.

“I’m sorry, Jon. You. You did tell us. We just didn’t listen. Thought you were cross at being sent here with us.” A warm palm enveloped his forearm. “What do you need?”

“N’nothing. Just.” Deep breath. Relax. You’re alright. “I’ll be ready in, in a m’moment.” Thick and hoarse, he didn’t want Martin to see his face. He didn’t want to see the disgust in his. “You, you go on. Tim shouldn’t be alone.”

“And you should?”

Yes.

Yes, because he’d be fine. He was always fine.

Before he had the chance to answer he heard Tim coming back, steps angry if there was such a thing, and calling through the tunnels.

“I see, just abandon me to the spooky vaults, serve me up on a platter next time, it’ll be faster!” Jon risked a look and saw Tim staring down at him. “What the hell, Martin? Jon, sure, but you too?” And that hurt, cutting to the quick of him deep enough that he almost checked for blood. Tim didn’t really think he’d abandon him, did he? “What’s with the secret meeting?”

“We need to go back to the room.”

“What?! We’ve barely started anything!”

“Jon needs a break.”

“Of course.” Scoffed, Jon could practically see him rolling his eyes

“Tim--! No, Jon’s been. He’s tried to ask a few times and I know we’ve got work to do but--”

“It’s alright, Martin. I can. Keep going.” The crease between Martin’s eyebrows deepened. “O’or stay here until you get back.”

“No,” Martin spoke sternly, “Tim, help me get him up.” Jon didn’t think he’d ever seen such a scathing look on his face before but it was enough to shift Tim. They lifted him together and as everything stiff stretched back out fire bled into his bones and he couldn’t help but cry out, trying to collapse back to the ground and into himself. “Oh, okay, Jon. Okay.”

“Ah, it’s.”

“If you say “fine” I’ll drop you right here.” Tim adjusted his grip, tried to take more of his weight and Jon was ashamed that he let him but--

"Good lord, Jon. You're so pale." When had Martin gotten so close to him? “I’m, I’m sorry.”

“S’alright.” The shaking started up again when he tried to take a step and Martin had to catch him before he collapsed all over again. This was so stupid. Why was he like this? Why did he hurt so bad?

“You can’t walk like this.”

“No! No, I can! I just…nngh.” His teeth were chattering, he was shivering. Just leave him here. This was mortifying and he all but gave up, following their soft directions until he was draped across Martin’s broad back and suffering through the strain of forcing his leg far enough forward for him to get his hand under it to lift him. Off his feet and pressed against a veritable wall of warmth, Jon lost his grip on the frayed threads holding the last of him together. They unspooled, slipped from his hands, and tears soaked the back of Martin’s collar.

"You're warm." Empty, sitting limp on the edge of the couch, Jon leaned into Martin’s hand on his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“No…” Clumsy fingers clawed open the bottle of paracetamol, irrationally angry when Martin only allowed him double the dose.

“Jon.” Tone firm, Jon looked up at him without lifting his head. Didn’t think he could if he wanted.

“S’mm.” He pulled in half a lungful of air with difficulty. “When it. When it hur’s like this.” The next breath strangled him and he thought he saw Tim and Martin exchange a look, one he couldn’t interpret and didn’t care to if it just meant they were leaving him here to go back to the vaults. He didn’t bother worrying about the new moisture dripping off his chin. He just wanted to disappear.

“Jon?” There was a packet of digestives being thrust under his nose and his stomach turned. "I haven't seen you eat at all today, or yesterday for that matter. I'm not going to let you take all those pills without at least a little something."

“Mm.” He forced one down his throat and pushed insistent hands away, swallowing the medicine with some lukewarm water Tim helped him hold, gasping when they manhandled him down to the cushions, sighing when something cold eased the fire in his hip.

“Ice, should help, okay?” And Jon concurred, new tears slipped between closed lids in relief, in weariness.

“Try and sleep, Boss.”

Quiet voices tugged him up through layers of cotton. Martin. Tim. Talking. Hushed.

“...shouldn’t have pushed so far.”

“So stupid...didn’t think…”

“Shh.” Caught eavesdropping. Jon swallowed. Everything they were saying about him was true, he wouldn't cry over it.

“Hey, Jon. How’re you feeling?” Sore. Foolish. Like he wanted the couch to open up and drag him down to wherever loose change went.

“Better.” When he made to sit up Martin stopped him. “Really, m’fine.” He stayed put.

“I need to apologize, Jon. I, I was so stupid. I didn’t even think about. Well, your injuries. Caught up in myself, I suppose.”

“No! I. Martin, it, it isn’t your fault. This,” he gestured to himself and laughed humorlessly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“We should have listened.” Now Tim was sat on the arm nearest his feet. His elevated feet and his face must have shown his confusion. “Did some googling. But we shouldn’t have let it go so far.”

“It’s--” he stopped abruptly at their combined frowns. “It’s. Um. Thank you, for taking care of me.”

“How is it?” Jon looked at his folded hands, guilty.

“I’d. If I could stay here today?” He closed his eyes, waiting for the frustration, the disappointment. “Not because I don’t want to, to, I want to. I enjoy your company! I’m.” He was botching this, just speak your mind, Sims. “I’m just. I’m very tired. Haven’t been, uh, sleeping much.” Opened them again when Martin cupped his shoulder and saw understanding reflected back.

“Sure. Of course you can.”

“We’ll make a day of it.” Tim flashed the company card. “Back soon, gents.”

The day was spent watching bad daytime television and Jon dozed on and off between being plied with sugary snacks and tea and watching Martin scold Tim for throwing wrappers at the worst of the actors.

“I’d clean it up, Marto, but,” he gestured to Jon’s feet where he’d tugged them over his lap. “I’m trapped, clearly.” It was so much like old times, away from the pressure of the Archives and Elias that Jon couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this could be fixed after all. Maybe it wasn’t all lost.

In the end, they’d discovered nothing new. No evidence to back up the statement givers that inspired this whole excursion in the first place.

6 hours. 47 minutes.

It didn’t seem such a long time on the way back.

#TMA #the magnus archives #prompt #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #strained friendships #pain #chronic pain #bad coping mechanisms

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alonelysimp · 3 years

Text

@hqrbinger bc I'm not sending this to ur inbox <3

1.6k || i got lazy hehe

The paper in his hand crinkles in his grip and his nails nearly puncture it. His teardrops blot the ink letters, making them bleed into each other slightly.

How long has it been since he last saw you? Since he last saw the way your eyes sparkled in the early morning sun? Since he last heard your voice calling out to him?

You broke him, leaving only shards of what was once the man you loved.

He has gone through many things, many of which a normal human would never dream of enduring. But alas, it’s the only thing he’s ever known. From being abandoned by his own family, his creator, to undergoing the torturous path of becoming a harbinger. After hundreds of years without so much as a single person that cared for him, truly showing him any warmth at all, it’s no surprise he became the man he is. Ruthless, cold, a man who could topple entire countries to the ground. Hated by all, or disliked at the very least. It’s just how things are though, right?

So why were you any different?

Why did you love someone like him so earnestly? Accepting every part of him, even though he felt like he didn’t deserve it? He loved that about you, Curse. The ice-cold walls he put up would melt around you. Why did you show a man like him your warmth?

He sat by the window as he read the numerous reports he received while awaiting your return. You were just going out to the market, as you do every week, to see if there was anything you liked that was recently imported from Inazuma, right? Maybe you could bake something with him later. Everything you made always reminded him of his home, in a sense. But, the hours slowly passed. Ticking from eleven to noon, to three, to seven, and soon the sun had completely set over the freezing snowscape.

He glanced outside, noticing the time, and watched as the streetlights flickered on. The foot traffic of people returning home from work increased. He huffed, standing out of his chair. You had probably gotten distracted and lost track of time again. But this late? He headed outside after throwing on a coat, carrying one for you as well.

The name “Curse” was well known throughout the city. You were Balladeer’s beloved, after all. He made sure everyone in Snezhnaya knew it.

The square was full of people buying groceries on their way home. The merchants’ shops often sold quick, convenient food for them. Were you buying food for dinner?

He grew tired as the night went on, and the temperature quickly decreased. He called some agents to help look, anxiety began to gnaw at the back of his mind. It’s only been half a day, you couldn’t’ve gotten very far, right?

Right?

How long has it been since he last saw you? Since he last saw the way you asked him to go make a pot of coffee so you could sleep in a little longer? Since he last felt your hand in his as you strolled along the shore?

It’s been days since you left. Gone, without a trace. No one has seen you. His voice was still sore from calling your name for hours on end, and the lingering effects of frostbite still nipped at the tips of his fingers.

His subordinates in neighbouring nations haven’t caught wind of you wither. It’s like you’ve disappeared into thin air. Nothing but a faint fragment in his memory.

His condition hadn’t kept him from performing his duties though. After all, he was a harbinger. Some say he’s gotten more… aggressive lately, but then again, he’s Balladeer. The cold, ruthless man you once knew.

When he opens a report from one of his higher-ranking subordinates in Mond, he honestly thinks it’s a joke. You? Curse? His girlfriend? Moments of silence pass.

“Curse is in Mondstadt... and she...?” He tosses the paper onto his desk, now littered with reports both addressed to him and to the other harbingers. You were perfectly fine, seeming to enjoy yourself in the new country. He shakes his head, leaning back in his chair.

His office seems quiet, now that your voice no longer fills the room. The couch that sits beside him is cold now. Were you really in Mondstadt? He stands up abruptly, making the chair screech against the wood floor, and takes his coat off the coat rack. If you weren’t there, he could just fry the agent.

His hand hovers over the doorknob. Why had you left in the first place? If you were in Monstadt already, then you hadn’t stopped travelling since you left. Did you even stop at the square?

He pauses, glancing back at the report. Would you even want to come back to him? You were happy in Mondstadt. But you were happy with him too, right? He sighs, snatching the paper and shoving it in his pocket.

How long has it been since he last saw you? Since he last saw the way your smile seemed to brighten the room? Since he last felt your hand run through his hair?

He arrived in Mondstadt sometime during the next night or the early morning after. Either way, it was late, already pitch black outside.

“Curse wouldn’t be out at this hour,” he reasoned, leaving his horse with his subordinates and making his way to the Goth Grand Hotel. “Her sleep schedule can’t be that bad.”

A part of him hoped you would be staying there, using your privileges as his lover to find a place to stay.

The bed underneath him isn’t the most comfortable. If you really are staying here, he would demand a more suitable bed be imported. He huffed, not taking his eyes off the ceiling. That’s ridiculous, you’d be coming back with him that afternoon.

The next morning he was looking… worse for wear, to say the least. Dark circles line the porcelain skin under his eyes. His voice is strained and hoarse from the nights he spent sobbing into his pillow until he couldn't breathe.

He felt so weak.

He hated it.

He hated the way you could make him smile. The way you could make his heart beat so wildly in his chest. The way you could make him weep into his pillow, worrying for you.

He was finally going to see you again, though. After many painstaking days of wondering where you were, or even if you were still alive. He has a list of areas with often a high crowd, but he first decides to stroll the streets. There was a locally famous restaurant not too far from the hotel. Perhaps you’d be there.

He brushes off the stares from the people that pass, ordering only a drink and waiting for you to show up.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table. You were here, right? A heavy sigh escapes his lips as a heavy pit settles in his stomach. He would travel to the ends of Teyvat to find you.

The chairs behind him crash, dragging across the cobblestone ground. The agent is leaning on the back of the chair, panting heavily before standing rigidly the moment Scaramouche turns around.

"Sir, she's at Windrise."

... She's what.

His heart jumps at the words; at the thought of seeing you again. You. The person he loves with everything in him, the person who changed his life, the person who showed him love for the first time in the hundreds of years he's been roaming Teyvat. He roughly pushes past the agent, running out the gates of Mond.

He can feel his hands shake, even with him running like this.

You, it's you, it's always you. The one he could love.

The one he could trust.

The one where he didn’t have to worry you would leave him.

At last, he would be able to feel you in his arms again. He would give up everything for you. He could be home again, with you.

“Curse…” He can’t bring himself to say another word.

There was no way you would.

You sat beside a tall man, dressed in black. What looked to be his cape draped over your shoulders.

It’s just one of your dumb jokes, right?

There’s no way you’d actually.

He approaches you slowly, a frown spreading across his face. Why were you here? And with someone else?

“C’mon, let’s go home.” He stands in front of you, glaring down the man to your side. Please, Curse. I’ve missed you.

“I’m sorry, who are you? I think you have the wrong person.”

...You were joking, right?

“Curse, I’ve been looking for you for the past five days, let’s go home.”

“Please don’t interrupt me on my date, if you don’t need anything then go.”

This can’t be happening. He stands there in silence for no more than a few moments before turning away abruptly.

He hated how you made him feel emotions so vividly.

Please, don’t do this to me.

He felt his heart shatter each time your words replayed in his head. Did you really not love him? Was all of that just a lie? Everything?

No, this was just a joke. A dream. He would wake up the next morning next to you again, as if nothing ever happened.

Did you really hate him enough to pretend not to know him? All those dumb smiles you gave him? The quick pecks on his cheek before he left for work. Did they all mean nothing to you?

Did he mean nothing to you?

#❧— malediction #dango's singular braincell #no its not getting a fic tag #dango struggling through an ebg

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thelargefrye · 4 years

Text

INTRODUCTION

SUMMARY : how your relationship came to be

PAIRING : poly!ateez x reader

WORD COUNT : 2.1k

WARNINGS. falling down the stairs + injuries + mentions of a hospital

being an idol was hard. all the years of endless hard work and then the amount of stress that is put on you. it’s even harder when your company decided to “spice things up” and try something different for their new group.

which is how you came to be in a male dominated group as the ninth and only female member. granted at the time the group was being formed, you were the only female trainee and it wasn’t like the company totally didn’t know what to do with you. that’s a lie, they had no idea what to do with you. so that’s more or less a quick and possible bad explanation on how you ended up in the ateez lineup.

training with the guys was fine. you got closer to some members more than others. it was a lot of figuring out how to make you feel welcomed after they had already had a year+ to get to know each other and figure the other out.

it was fine.

san was the first member to really welcome you into the group and made to sure to include you in on everything. at the time, you used to see him being nice as a friendly gesture, but now... you realize he only did it because he had a crush on you.

“you did?” you remember asking him one night as you laid in your bed together. the two of you were remembering your trainee days when san confessed about his crush.

“you were practicing your dance for the monthly evaluation and i was just so... fascinated by how you moved,” he explained causing a blush to form on both your cheeks.

you wonder what would have happened to your relationship if you had noticed his feelings sooner. when you were trainees and even after debut, your feelings were ultimately occupied by the leader of your group. of course hongjoong was so blinded by his love for music and the eldest member, that he didn’t even think twice about you most times on his own accord.

it was pathetic how you all acted around each other really. one member in love with two others and then one of those two might have returned the feelings while also liking a different member. it was just one big emotional mess.

sometimes you wonder what set off the chain of events that finally caused you all to become lovers.

“i think after you confessed to hongjoong-hyung that’s when everything started,” san said that same night.

that was honestly a whole train wreck and a story for maybe another time, but just know that hongjoong thought you were messing with him. so you ended up playing it off as a joke until you got to the dorm were you cried for an hour in the shower and then proceeded to lock yourself in your room for the rest of the night.

“i felt terrible that night. hearing you crying on the other side of you door and not being able to help you,” he spoke and by this time you were holding hands. you gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “i’m not going to lie, i was shocked when it was wooyoung would volunteered to go talk to you.”

you let out a laugh, “yeah i was too. woo was really helpful that night, i think it really helped our personal relationship.”

and it was true, when you joined the team, everyone seemed rather welcoming of you. all but wooyoung seemed to enjoy having you around. the male would often ignore you or would bump into you and then blame you for being clumsy. it hurt, you’re not gonna lie, but you pushed on and did your best to ignore his rudeness.

when you two ended up talking, you found out he was only jealous of how close you and san had gotten and that he felt like you were slowly also taking yeosang away from him. “wooyoung, i would never try to take san or yeosang away from you. i love all three of you dearly and would never want to come between you and the others. i’m sorry i made you feel that way, it was never my intention.”

“i realize now that maybe it me just being insecure of myself. i shouldn’t have been so mean to you.” you remember holding your hand out to him suddenly. he looked so confused and just stared at your hand before looking at your glassy, red eyes. he then took it after a few moments.

“i’m y/n, its nice to meet you,” you said softly as you shook wooyoung’s hand. “i hope we can be friends!”

“i’m wooyoung. i hope so too.”

after that you two started to become close and it was like all the rude and mean things he did to you were put behind you both. you also began putting your feelings for hongjoong behind you and instead you began to grow feelings for san and wooyoung.

“when did these feelings happened?”

“i think... around our first comeback and when we were doing our first world tour. i began spending more time with you both and you both made me feel safe and loved. at the time i thought something was wrong with me for liking two people. i think mingi might have found me crying about it one day and talked to me about my feelings.”

mingi was probably the only person you could have deep life talks with, without the thought of him judging you for them. he never once looked at you like you were a possible weirdo or even a whore as might consider for what you told him.

“there’s nothing wrong with loving more than one person.” that night he ended up confessing about his own feelings towards not only yunho but you. “see you’re not a weirdo because i love two people too. you and yunho mean a lot to me, and i would do anything to keep you both happy.

you honestly don’t know how it happened, but all you remember is him leaning over to kiss you. the kiss didn’t last long because of wooyoung suddenly coming into your shared hotel room. at first you weren’t sure if wooyoung had seen you two kiss, but you could tell by the slight flash of hurt that he did.

before you could say anything, wooyoung quickly left the room, door slamming behind him. you were thought about going after him before deciding against it. “i’m sorry.” you turn to mingi and smile at him letting him know he didn’t do anything.

this went on for a few months, you and the other member dealing with your feelings that seemed to be growing for each other. but then none of you knowing how the other felt. it was during the wave/illusion comeback when things started really happening. you began making friends with female idols and hanging out with them.

“hey, y/n do you think you can give my number to seonghwa?” you remember soojin asking you, and yes we are talking about i-dle’s soojin. you hesitated at first knowing that your leader was still in love with seonghwa, but you took the piece of paper with her number on it to not be rude.

“oppa, what do you think about soojin from i-dle?” it was the next day during practice when you asked. you weren’t looking at seonghwa directly, keeping your eyes trained on the reflections in front of you. you of course spotted hongjoong carefully listening in.

“she’s cute,” is all he said.

“she wanted me to give you her number,” you explain and seonghwa looks at you with a tilt of his head. “do you,” you quickly glance at hongjoong, “want it?”

“sure. it’d be nice to get to know her,” he says with a simple smile. you can’t help but catch the look of panic and hurt flash through hongjoong’s features before he turns away to do something else.

after that, seonghwa would text soojin almost every chance he got. after a few weeks, seonghwa told you guys he would going on a date with soojin.

“i felt hongjoong’s heart break and i knew it was my fault,” you admit to san.

“you were just being a good friend to soojin.”

“but i knew it would have hurt hongjoong-oppa if soojin-unnie and seonghwa-oppa had hit it off like they did. deep down i think i did it because i wanted hongjoong to know how it felt to have his heart ripped apart and then i realized how selfish i was.”

“is that why you threw yourself down the stairs? to stop seonghwa from going on his date?” your silence confirmed what he said was true and san couldn’t help but laugh. “that was probably the most stupidest thing i had ever seen you do. you scared all of us half to death,” he confessed.

throwing yourself do the stairs at the dorm, probably was and still is the most stupidest and dangerous thing you had ever done. honestly, it was a last minute decision to try and maybe secretly make up for hurting hongjoong. you made it seem like an accident, that you were running down the stairs in your slippers. something seonghwa may have told you not to do in fear of you slipping and falling. it worked though, seonghwa cancelled his date in order to take you to the hospital.

“i’m sorry,” you told seonghwa on the way back from the hospital.

“for what baby? it was an accident, you got hurt and i have to take care of my members,” he says, an arm wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer.

“but i ruined your date with unnie.”

“i wasn’t that interested in her anyway,” he confesses and you look at him with confusion. “there’s... someone or someones else that i’m more interested in.”

“who?” seonghwa didn’t bother answering with words. instead he used his free hand to cup the side of your face before kissing you.

“w-wait,” you gasp pulling away, eyes wide in shock as you look at seonghwa. your left speechless, what the actual hell? seonghwa was the last person on earth you thought could possible like you. “i-i-i don’t... i don’t understand.”

“i think all nine of us are rather confused about our feelings for one another.” you can’t help but agree to his words and how true they were. looking into your eyes you quietly ask, “will you kiss me again?” you don’t know what came over you in the car ride home. the two of you kissed the whole rest of the ride, lips swollen and red by the time you reach the dorms. you felt slightly embarrassed that you and seonghwa made out in the backseat while your manager drove you home.

he bided the two of you goodbye before leaving, the three of you never spoke of it again, which was honestly fine by you. once back in the dorm, san was the first one two greet you and ask how you were.

“i think we all need to have a talk about what’s been happening with us these last few months,” seonghwa says, the remaining eight of you knew what he was talking about and soon enough you were all sitting in the living room confessing how you felt.

“so what now?” jongho asked from his spot on the floor.

“well,” yeosang began and everyone looked towards him, “i did some research a few weeks ago and found out there are relationships with more than two people. polyamory is what the internet called it, and i think we should all give it a shot. its obvious that we all really care for one another, and i think we can make it work.” he finishes and yunho is the first one to agree.

“i think we should give it a shot like yeosang said!” you swear just his smile alone could reassure you of anything.

“honestly, i couldn’t imagine my life now without being with you all. you bring me so much happiness and love,” you confess, turning to look at san.

“me too,” he says before leaning over to kiss you. both of you occupied with kissing don’t realize yunho had entered the room. a pout forms on his face before he walks over and jumps on the bed, landing on top of you both. you and san groan as yunho begins smothering you both with kisses.

“hey are you three having fun without us?” wooyoung whines as him and jongho walk by and eventually joined on the way too small bed. eventually the remaining four members joined you guys, and now you and san are being dog piled on top of.

but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#ninth.#poly ateez #poly ateez x reader #ateez ninth member #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #dream episode.

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captaindodson · 3 years

Text

7AM confessions (t.h oneshot)

Synopsis: You just finished working a graveyard shift at your summer job. Just as you’re about to get into your car to leave to sleep the weekend away, a familiar face appears to confront you on what happened.

Paring: Tom Holland x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Angsty (?), Swearings??

Once your apple watch displayed 7 AM you knew the long week you had was finally over. The assembly line filled with car parts ready for inspection remain still and untouched as everyone switches off with the next group of shift workers who are already coming onto the floor. Luckly, its Friday, so you get to sleep the weekend away and reset your sleep schedule for your last week of shifts before the fall semester starts. You tidy up your small station and when you think you’ve done enough you turn around to leave and then you see your co-worker/work friend Raj approaching. You both wear matching white hard hats, blue gloves, white jackets, dark blue work pants, and brown steal toed boots.

“Hey, how was this morning,” Raj stops a few feet away and raises his hand to fist bump and you happily reciprocate before sliding your hands into your jacket pockets.

“It wasn’t a bad night, Lauren didn’t come in tonight cause she was sick with a stomach bug. Oh I did finally registered for my university courses during my break, and I got so lucky with my extra circulars.The moment I went to register there was only one spot left for the ones I wanted.”

Raj just nods and glances around the work station, inspecting to see you cleaned it to his standard. You notice his wandering eyes but you aren’t bothered by it. You’ve been in that position where you have to work a long eight hours on your feet and the person before you at your assigned station leaves it a mess and you’re stuck cleaning it for the first hour of your shift. So after he finishes inspecting he meets your eyes and nods in approval.

“Oh shit really? I should probably do that sooner rather than later. I’ve been going to university for three years and I almost always forget every time to register on time,” He replies.

“Don’t you have your final research seminar and reading seminar this year? I thought certain classes had a small capacity?”

“Oh. Well guess what I’m doing during my lunch break,”

You lightly laugh at him as the sound of a warning buzzer echoing through the factory floor goes off. You look around and see that most, if not all of your night shift people are already off the floor and you take this as your cue to leave.

“Anyway, talk to you later Raj,” he gives you small smile in response and steps around you to get started. You make your way off the floor and to your designated locker, providing some of the people from dayshift a warm smile as you walk past them.

You walk through a pair of white double doors which leads into a a bright baby blue hallway which eventually guides you to where the designated bathrooms are with the lockers. When you get to the end of the hall you turn left and head into the female washroom where the you’re met with an empty room. Usually, when everyone’s shift ends they’re rushing to get out (and you’re no exception). You would normally find yourself squeezing by people and dodging elbows trying to get to your locker but today is different. Staying behind for an extra few minutes to talk actually lets you take your time for once. By taking your time it also means the parking lot won’t be backed up as usual and you can drive home without any major delay to sleep your weekend away. That’s the only thing you have to look foreward to, your bed because there is no one at home, no roomates, no pets, no boyfriends, no nothing. The place you were at two months ago was totally different from where you are now. You lived abroad in London with your then boyfriend for six months until you broke it off because you were lost.

You had to get out because your identity slowly became tightly intertwined with the person you were with. Everything revolved around them and their job and you were going no where in life. Your dreams were pushed to the back of your mind as you stayed in fancy hotel suites, alone waiting for your ex-boyfriend to come back from an exhausted day on set to only desperately try to keep his eyes open when you two watched a movie or went out for a night on the town.

He really did try his best to make your time with him exciting even if he was burn out from working all day. He made small dates in your hotel room feel magical. He had your hotel room decorated in fairy lights and planned a romantic dinner looking over the city you two stayed in. He made love to you in the early hours of the morning to the organy rays of the morning sun. Or another time, when he wasn’t allowed to leave the hotel at all, he took you to the hotel roof to slow dance under the stars to music playing from that headphones you two shared. You’d pay a million dollars to experience these small moments over and over again.

Over a weekend back in London by yourself while Tom had to catch a flight last minute to do film re-shoots in LA, you decided to have a self-care night. After lighting some candles, ordering take-out, dimming the lights, and scrolling through Netflix to finally find a good-feel show, you finally sit comfortably on the couch and relax. You found a generic rom-com from the 2000’s that looked mildly interesting and even if the plot wasn’t any good you could still get a good laugh about it.

As the movie progresses and the main character struggles to choose between a boy and her dream job you find your mind slowly loosing focus with what is happening on the screen and reflecting it back into your own life. After a few seconds pondering you realize something, had no idea what you wanted to do. You were in your early twenties, you were doing school part-time online with a program you liked but you spent most of your time with Tom. Traveling to country to country to join him while he filmed, staying in hotel rooms waiting for him, sometime visiting set when you were allowed too, it was truly an exciting and calming lifestyle.

Even though you believed you finally found the guy that you could spend the rest of your life with, a second family you got along with, a place you could see yourself settling down in, you didn’t have anything for yourself. When you thought you of trying to return to in-class schooling with a larger course load and renting a place for the semester and trying to sustain a long-distant relationship with someone in the limelight, it just stressed you out. You knew it wouldn’t be easy and just seeing how deflated Tom looked when he returned to you after working, you knew the relationship would push him to his limits.

Even after initiate moments you realized how tired and over worked he was. The look in his eyes when he had to leave for work the next morning couldn’t go unnoticed. You felt your heart squeezing itself and your breathing became heavier. You would never want to cause Tom any pain on your behalf, and you can’t continue to drag your feet with your education because you felt like you . So, you did what you did best, shut someone out and leave. You made up lie about how this relationship wasn’t working on your end, broke it off and flew back to the town where you had been attending school online. Scrambling enough money together to buy a used car and a small studio apartment and apply to as many jobs as you could. You got lucky, that when you were applying that a car factory needed more summer students and they were paying their workers a decent living wage and you just jumped on it. The job helped you get settled but it also helped ignore the small amount of regret you felt. It is too late to turn around now and now you must live with your choices.

You shake yourself out of a daze you didn’t realize clouded your mind, and it seems your feet have carried you to the front of your small grey locker. It looks like what all typical high school lockers look except half the size. You raise your hand to the lock to do one full twist to the right, one full twist to the left, and half a twist to the right again and my the lock pops off with a light pull.

You reach in to collect your phone, black spring jacket, dark blue water bottle, then you reach into your jacket pocket to fish out your car keys. You hum in satisfaction when you feel the cool metal of your keys in your pocket. You drape your jacket over your arm as you shut the locker quietly and slide the lock over the hook and push it shut. You proceed to continue to follow the baby blue hallways until you’ve reached the double glass doors of the exit. You push open the glass door and is met with a cool morning breeze also paired with a peach colored sky.

You make your way across the concrete of the parking lot, following the line of different coloured cars parked next to each other, eyes wandering at the different licence plates, soaking up the calmness of the morning sun until you stop dead in your tracks. You look up to see someone leaning on the hood of your car. This person is dressed in some blue jeans, a black hoodie, dark red hat, and it seems they’re just casually looking down and scrolling through their phone unaware of your presence a couple feet away. You think for a minute before speaking, should you just walk back inside and get someone to confront this guy or should you just do it yourself? I mean it is your car in a private parking lot, someone will hear you scream right? After a few seconds go by you just say fuck as the longer you stand here the less time you get to spend sleeping.

“Ah hem, excuse me you’re leaning on my car. Can you please get off,”

You keep your distance and tightly grip your waterbottle. Just so you have a head start if you need run back into the factory or even defend yourself. Their fingers stop scrolling, but their gaze is still facing downwards, hood and hat hiding their features.

“Uh hello, you need to get out of this parking lot its a private. Ill call security if you don’t move, ”

You shallow nervously as the figure stays still, unresponsive. When it seems like this figure is just going to continue to ignore you they stand up abruptly causing you to jump.

“Hi Y/N,’ An english accent comes out from the hood and your expression changes from fear to dread in seconds. Heart still pumping fast in your chest and you feel yourself getting even more nervous.

“What are you doing here, Tom”, You cross your arms the best you can and start staring at your feet to avoid eye contact.

“Can’t I come visit my girlfriend after she finishes work,” Tom questions as his foots steps get louder as they get closer.

“I am not your girlfriend remember. Besides the point, how do you even know where to find me. I haven’t talked to you in two months.”

‘You left without a much of explanation. You said when I came home from LA that this was over because you couldn’t handle this relationship, it stressed you out to much. I thought everything was going good mutually good in all aspects of the relationship, but I guess I was wrong. After months of trying to unravel what I could have possible done wrong, I just had to find you and get the truth of why you left,”

He ignores your question as he bends his knees to try and get a look at your face. Your mind almost speeds up, unable to come up with a good enough half-assed response, you mouth blurts out the truth without much thought.

“I love that you’re able to pursue your dreams, and god Tom I wouldn’t want you to do anything to compromise that. But I want to be able to pursue my dreams too Tom. The only way I can do that is if I leave and doing a long-distant relationship hardly ever works out for anybody! I don’t want you wearing yourself out because of me and being long-distance was going to tear you apart,”

You sniffle away the tears building up in your eyes while focusing on the curves on the concrete.

“Darling, why didn’t you just talk to me? I would and do understand if you want to pursue something on your own. I would never want to settle for anything less. “

He reaches out a finger to find a place under your chin to lift your head gently so your eyes will meet. You glossy eyes meet his soft, gentle brown eyes and that alone makes you want to cry. You never meant to cause pain to reach those eyes, you just thought you were doing yourselves a favour.

“Baby, we could’ve done this together you know that. We would’ve never survived our first year together if we didn’t talk stuff out. Trying to make a relationship work with a person I’ve loved since our first date is worth the endless amount of stress life causes. Y/N, my darling, I would do anything to make you happy but also stay in my arms forever,”

His soft tone makes your knees weak and that is when the dam of tears breaks from your eyes and they flow down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I-I just thought I was doing the right thing for both of us. I was watching a movie and I started stressing my sell-out and just thinking for myself .I’m sorry I put you through this, I know I can’t turn back time, but please forgive me for causing you any pain because my love for you got me all fucked up, “ You say trying wipe away the salty tears dripping down your face.

“I’m not mad nor am I upset with you. I’m just glad I can have you back in my life again.”

Tom smiles even bright as he pulls lightly on the hand he has a hold of to drag your body over to his. He embraces you into his warmth and your body curls into him and all you can think is there is no place you’d rather be.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your place and catch up on some sleep huh? Then you can give me tour around your new place and make up for lost time,”

He hums into your hair as you pull back from his embrace to look up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve to look at Tom more clearly.

“Yeah, I’d like that”.

#tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland drabble #dodson writing #Tom Holland x gender neutral reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

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achaoticeternal · 4 years

Text

A Million Little Lies

STEVE ROGERS X READER / BUCKY BARNES X READER masterlist // taglist

Summary: You had always loved Bucky, but Steve always had that look in his eyes. But neither of you ever tried anything past stolen stares. So when Bucky vanishes after The Snap, Steve takes care of all your needs. What happens when Bucky and everyone has come back? Word Count: 2k A/N: This is based off the beautiful song illicit affairs by taylor swift Warnings: Heavy Angst, Brief mentions of smut, Cheating, Death, Tough Goodbyes, but somewhat happy ending?

You set your favorite perfume back down onto your dresser, deciding against wearing it in case it rubbed of. Neither of you need anyone wondering what happened behind closed doors or after team meetings. It was safer to keep things quiet, maybe it would help you both not get too attached. Or so you hoped for yourself.

“Where you headed off to this morning, (Y/N)?” Rhodey asked as you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Just a run.”

It was hard to pinpoint when this little flame started. Maybe it was when Natasha had first introduced you to both Bucky and Steve when you had switched from working at SHIELD to Stark Industries and ultimately working for The Avengers. Back then you were considered a younger recruit and really only had connections with Natasha, Tony, and Maria Hill.

“Boys, I’d like you to meet, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the latest recruit to our espionage division.”

It would be hard for anyone not to find both the super soldiers attractive, but you were awestruck. Bucky easily made the first move, because he had fallen just as hard for you. Back then, Steve was still hung up on Peggy and trying to move on with Sharon. Yet, you spent much time with both of them.

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, (Y/N),” Bucky charmed you by pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“It’ll be nice to have you on the team, kid,” Steve offered a smile and a nod, already appointing you a nickname- teasing at your younger age.

Loving Bucky came naturally because he gave you all of himself and was honest about absolutely everything. He was ready for a relationship and someone to help him through his baggage, even though he thought he didn’t deserve it. You were happy together, even when trying to live a simple life in Wakanda.

But there was one night... It was Bucky’s birthday and it was one of the first times where he felt comfortable around the whole team and was genuinely happy. Of course, Thor had managed to get him wasted on Asgardian mead which meant you would have to cure the hangover that came with it the next morning. While Bucky chatted away with Thor and Sam, you took a moment to step onto the balcony.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever thanked you, kid” Steve spoke, appearing from the shadows.

“Thank me for what, Captain?”

“You can call me Steve, (Y/N),” he said leaning against the railing next to you, “And I never have thanked for not only being good to Bucky, but being the best thing for us since we’ve come out of the ice. You’ve done a lot for both him and me. You deal with the late nights and the struggles of adapting to this modern world.”

You turn your head see him basically towering over to you, and the pair of you lock eyes, “But that’s nothing to thank me for, I care for both of you...” The world seemed to slow as you took in every detail of Steve’s face. From the glint of green in his eyes to the small scar above his right eye to how his face kept getting closer to yours, “and because I love Bucky.”

His actions stopped and he breathed, apparently coming to his senses, “Yeah, it’s just nice to have someone else to care for Bucky like we’ve looked after each other for well... a century.”

“I guess that I was just another dame on your map of planned destined meetings.”

While Bucky was around, nothing more ever happened between you and Steve past the longing stares. His eyes just always perfectly met yours whether it be across the dinner table, or across seats in the quinjet.

And he also was a comfort when both of you lost Bucky and the others to the Snap. Steve held you and rocked you to sleep night after night while you cried wishing that it were you instead. It was the third night after the battle in Wakanda, you had just finished cleaning his wounds again and applying the bandages. You both were in his room, as you had been for the past few nights because it was hard to lay in the same bed when Bucky was no longer there to hold you.

You went stepped into the bathroom to discard of the old bandages when you halted in front of the mirror. You saw the dark circles beneath your eyes and how hallow you were becoming from ignoring any self care. And you just broke down, falling to the bathroom floor, barely holding your head up when Steve came to your side.

“I know, kid,” he said softly, sweeping you into his arms, “it hurts so much, we lost hi,. we lost everyone. but we have to figure out what’s next.”

“What do I do now Steve? No one has ever cared for me, or loved all of me like Bucky did.”

He caught your cheeks between his hands and swiped away the tears that fell, “I do, and I’ll take care of you, kid.”

Steve pressed his lips to yours and it was the first time you had felt anything besides sadness in days. And this new feelings, this desire and lust for Steve, crashed over you like a wave. Even if it was deadly and would drown you, you let the waters rush over you as you gave yourself to him.

It became addicting. There was a wonderful rush with each meeting that begun in his bedroom or in beautiful hotel rooms. You told yourself that you could go above water and breath whenever you wanted to. Yet, it was hard to say no or stop when you longed for the same rush to come over you again. But then the waters calmed. And the meetings weren’t as wonderful as sneaking into his room late at night because others were getting suspicious.

So Steve moved out of the compound and into his own private apartment. He justified it to the team as making it easier to show the support groups he worked with that people can move on past what things were. But it also would be easier to sneak around to see each other, away from your curious team. Even if the apartment or the parking lots meetings weren’t extravagant, Steve still took care of you.

After the pair of you rode out your orgasms, he flopped next you and pulled you into his chest. You listened to his deep breaths and his heart beat, just appreciating the moment for what it was.

“You know, baby, I wish we could get away from of all this,” he spoke softly while rubbing shapes into your bare arm, “We could’ve had a simple and happy life together. Would you like that?”

You looked up into his eyes, “You know I would have loved that,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“One day, we can just leave together. We’ll go where ever we want and just be happy together. I’ll build you a house and we can spend our days together,” he rested his head against the top of yours.

You smiled at the thought, because it would be nice. But you knew that his words and thoughts of leaving everything behind was riddled with a million little lies. Maybe though he could mean it...

Now, the Avengers had defeated Thanos and mostly everyone had returned home. Bucky was back. You could have your old life with him back. But before anything could happen, you had to talk to Steve.

“So, what do we do now?” You asked him as you both stood in the living room of his apartment.

“What do you mean? The world’s normal again, so we can go back to our lives and finally settle.”

“I don’t think I understand...” You look into his eyes, completely lost by his words. Was he pushing you away?

“Oh baby, I’m sorry, but I just don’t know if we could continue whatever we were. I mean, Bucky is back and I have a plan on my mind now that everything is good again.”

“So every night we were together was actually a lie...”

“Listen, kid, I honestly thought-” He stepped closer to you.

“No”

“What?”

“No.”

“Now I don’t understand, kid, I-”

“Don’t call me kid. Don’t call me baby. I gave all of me to you when I was completely broken. You pulled me out of the mess that I was and then showed me colors that I can’t see with anybody else.”

“(Y/N), we can’t have the life we thought we could anymore. It just not possible and I thought you would just realize that as everything was unfolding.”

“Steve, for five years, you were my everything and you have made me an idiotic fool. We made a secret life together, we have a secret language that I can speak with anyone else. I don’t know how to go back to life before.”

The room was still as neither of you said a word. What was just supposed to be watching each others back, maybe taking care of each other; but it was never supposed to become some sort of affair.

“I let myself drown in you when you were supposed to be my lifeboat. But the worst part is that you knew that. I never realized it, but you knew damn well that I would completely ruin anything and everything for you a million little times.”

“(Y/N), I’m sorry but you have to go back to Bucky... because I’m leaving. And I’ve already discussed it with him.”

It was like a bullet went through you. Maybe this was all just in your head, because while you clinged on for dear life- he had already let go...

“Goodbye, Steve,” You walked out of his apartment for the last and went to your true home, back with Bucky.

Steve left the next day. He said goodbye to Sam and Bucky. You only knew of this because Bucky had told you. Steve was back with Peggy and lived the life he had always wanted with his best girl.

But Bucky handed you a letter, from Steve to you...

Hey Kid,

I know it is hard saying goodbye. That’s why I tried to push you away so hard, because you became a reason to stay. But how could I have stayed. You were the only person left that needed me. The world is in safe hands. It doesn’t need the soldier out of time anymore.

I know you’re conflicted right now. You’re happy Bucky is back, but now everything we had is gone. I promise this was the right decision though. You can continue your life with Bucky. You can now only worry about looking after one super soldier instead of two. It’ll be easier. Maybe not now, but it will be.

But I do need to let you know that I don’t regret our years together. I loved you. You were my only source of light. You were the sunshine that helped me grow, but I can’t take your sunshine away from Bucky.

I hope you’ll find it in your heart one day to forgive me.

You once said that us meeting was a planned destiny. That was needed each other. I agree, but this was always my destiny. And now you can have your’s with Bucky.

Don’t forget me, but don’t dwell on me. Create more colors with Bucky than you did with me. Create a new language that only you two understand. Take care of each other

Truly yours forever,

Steve Rogers

P.S Peggy and I had a daughter and I named her (Y/N) after you. It might seem crazy, but her eyes look just like yours.

“What did he have to say?”

You wiped away a stray tear, “To keep you out of trouble.”

Bucky smiled and picked you up, placing a kiss to your lips, “Let’s get back to our life together.”

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nam-nam-joon · 4 years

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Pairing: lucas/wong yukhei x reader

Genre: meet cute; rich kids AU

Wordcount: 10.6k

Warnings: lots of swearing; yukhei punches someone

Summary: one word is all it takes, and the opaque glass dome surrounding him cracks, and then there's you peeking in through the opening.

notes: i started this in february '19, when i was in san fran, and very much walking through the fashion district and marvelling at the sketches in the boutique windows of dior, and watching the actual rich people around there. and i've loved @stormae 's rich kid AUs for so long, i wanted to try and write my own :)

The first time he sees you, he doesn’t know it’s you yet.

And he also doesn’t see you, not really.

That is, his mind registers a person crouching off to the side as he steps up to the crossing, one hand in his pant’s pocket, the fingers of the others lazily curled around the thin velvet strings of a small bag, carrying a bottle of the expensive scent his mother always leaves a hint of wherever she goes.

That she forgot at home before this trip, and sent him to fetch for her, because of course they didn’t take Doyoung with them for this weekend trip to the fundraiser in the city by the bay.

And in lieu of their usual boy-for-everything, the next best thing is of course their own son.

He doesn’t mind.

It gives him an excuse to saunter around the streets of the high society neighbourhood their hotel is located in, somewhere among the sparkling city lights of downtown.

A breath escapes him.

It is a city like any other. The only difference with this one are the light buildings and summer etched into every corner and crevice, even though the temperatures aren’t quite there at this time of the year.

Running his mother's errand gives him an excuse to breathe in the air that smells of big city, of a million different foods, like gasoline and a bit of freedom, too.

When he walks the streets like this he can be nobody. Just another face in the crowd - a very expensively dressed crowd, but nonetheless. Here he doesn’t have a name, doesn’t have watchful eyes on him scrutinizing his every move, like his father likes to do. Noone there to clutch at his arm and whisper harsh words to him, in a tongue foreign to most of those surrounding them, behind the back of those who take selfies with their new purchases safely tucked into bags that boast the name of brands. His mother’s words are unforgiving about anyone falling outside her perception of no less than perfection, of people like his father and his colleagues, and ultimately, him and his friends.

Because, really, they’re the next generation of perfect people, carefully raised and curated by the last generation of perfect people.

But then there’s movement from the end of his field of vision and you step into it from the right, hand brushing back a few stray hairs that escaped into places they're not meant to be in and the first thing he sees is the way the headlights of passing cars momentarily create a glowing circle around your head, the way the traffic lights tint your face into a multitude of colours, and his eyes, usually so fleeting and only ever interested in the horizon, can’t let go.

They slip down your body with a practiced ease that has been second nature longer than he can think.

He doesn’t know anything about you other than you look absolutely ethereal bathed in the unassuming shine of artificial light.

But then his gaze runs down the length of your body and he comes up empty handed. Not one piece of clothing that you’re wearing bears the label of a designer he’s familiar with.

The washed out pants are rolled up over the worn out converse, there’s the hint of a flannel peeking out beneath your open jacket that seems just light enough to not cause sweat on this early spring's evening. The model of your phone is that from four years ago, but that’s all he can recognize.

Although it tells him enough.

And yet…

Another vespa zips by and in its headlight something at your belly blinks up. A small flutter spreads through his stomach as he takes in the knobs and levers, the metal and beaten black plastic. The long lens with its round cover and your left hand protectively curled around the whole creation, cradling it so close that he can’t think other than to immediately assume it’s just a part of you.

“Hey.” He says, before his brain can stop his mouth. It comes out low and even, a smirk playing around his lips.

The light switches to green, after what feels like an eternity, and you begin to walk before turning your head in his direction.

But instead of the million little things he is so used to hearing in return to one of his “Hey”'s - you don’t say anything. You just look at him and smile, you look into his eyes and smile. And then your gaze leaves him, without a second look, without scanning him. Without seeing him.

It has the smirk threat to slip for a second.

“So, uh, I noticed your camera. You really like photography, huh? Is it a hobby of yours?”

You stop at the next corner and turn into the direction of the setting sun flooding the street that gently slopes down in front of you, lift the camera and keep quiet for a moment. His gaze is fixed on the way your fingers turn a ring close to where the lens meets the rest of the camera, making adjustments, before your body seems to freeze for the fraction of a second that it takes until the camera clicks and you lower it.

Your eyes meet his again and he notes how your right hand automatically turns a little lever, a ticking noise emitting from the case in your hands for the duration of the movement.

“Yeah, you could say that. But I mostly just like to take pics of pretty things, or things I like. It’s not really- Not like I earn money with it or so.”

He nods. “Been here before? In the city, I mean." Then he adds. "I’m Lucas, by the way.”

He waits, one step ahead of you, until you put the cover back over the lens and slowly catch up to him.

“_______. And nah, First time for me. You?”

“Me neither. You like it?”

“It’s alright.” The grin on your face screams that your passive tone is a lie, and his lips curl into a grin until you crack and join in. “Yeah, I love it. Been here for a week now and am still finding new favourite spots every day. What about you? Here for a vacation?”

If only, he thinks, as his eyes catch on the dark clouds opposing the radiant sunset.

“Family trip.” He says instead.

“Oh, awesome! I’d love to have my fam here now- it would be so nice to go sightseeing with them. Where have you been already?”

His eyes trail back to yours, slightly irritated at the energy you just revealed, and the passion behind your words when speaking of the people that created you.

“Just arrived today.” He says, and it’s only half a lie. But he doesn’t know how to explain that his parents aren’t the type to go sightseeing with their offspring; that the idea of his mother in her Manolo’s strutting over the local tourist hot spot bridge is… bizarre.

“Oh, okay.” You say, and he can sense the slight dent his answer gave your enthusiasm. “Well… where do you wanna go? What stuff are you here for to see?”

You add, after he keeps quiet for a moment while trying to come up with a smooth save.

“The… bridge.” He says, as it is the first thing falling into his head. A knowing smile has your eyes glinting, like you are somehow able to see through him.

It has an uncomfortable feeling spread inside him - the pretense he always dresses in to keep his parents - his friends, everyone around him - happy so much more important than some pretty person his mind couldn’t let go of after laying eyes on.

The subdued panic wells up in his chest. He briefly considers walking off, especially now that your head is tilted down and his feet are in your direct line of sight.

The black sock sneakers carry the little printed letters that spell ‘Balenciaga’ along the outer sides, their low rise only allowing a thin slip of skin to show around his ankles before the elastic band of his pants covers the rest of the leg that the sun touched with a tan again, now that he’s away from the snow of winter.

He almost holds his breath.

All of his friends are like him.

Young, good looking.

Wealthy.

You’re no less good-looking and yet as different to him as night is to day.

Your eyeliner is a bit messy towards the outer corners of your eyes, like you had wiped at it, forgetting it was there. There’s frizz making short hairs stand up over the rest of where it is kept together. He can see it’s been a while since you last plucked your eyebrows, but all of it contributes to an image that is so much more human than what he’s used to.

You’re not proper, with skin smooth as if airbrushed like the girls his mother wants him to converse with at events, you have your camera to snap keepsakes of your travels, alone, in a city that is not your own.

You’re walking these streets without fear, and without caring that almost everyone else here is dressed in clothes that, a single item alone, probably costs more than all of yours combined.

There is something fierce inside you that he catches a glint of as a Tesla purrs by and your eyes flash over the car; the way your eyebrows quip upwards for a moment and your lips purse, and suddenly he feels awfully aware of what he’s wearing.

Of how confident you look, how comfortable, without a single brand name lining your side.

Your eyes meet his again, and this time, they stay longer. Flit around and take in all his features before you open your mouth and the spark of mischief beautifully adorns your expression.

“I know the perfect place to see the bridge. Wanna come?”

“Wh- Now?” His eyes fly to the smart watch on his wrist, the time ticking away, and the notification that his mother send him a message, asking about her perfume.

“Yeah. Now. Unless you got somewhere else to be?”

He has. He really has.

“Uh… can I meet you sometime later? Like… eleven, maybe?”

Is that disappointment on your face?

“Ah, I see. Sorry for going in like that, I thought… Nevermind. Hey, look, if you need to go, I won’t keep you.”

This expression he knows, although it’s strange to see on your soft, warm face that holds no trace of the practiced smiles and pleased looks that cover the features of him and his friends. You’re pulling back, distancing yourself.

He swallows down the panic that rises in the pit of his stomach against all the rules and mental restrictions he built over the course of miserable years of splendor and grandeur; the very same walls you crept around and instantly closer to his soul than anyone since his childhood nanny.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I really do want to go with you. It’s just- My parents- I have to bring this to them, and they’ll expect-”

He notices, notices the way your eyes catch on the little bag he holds up, and it’s a pinprick into his chest as he remembers the triple digits he paid for with his travel credit card.

But then your eyes touch his again, and they’re not hard, not unforgiving, not condescending. Just curious.

He gapes at you as you look up at him without a single wrinkle of displeasure on your face.

And in that moment he makes a decision.

“You know what, fuck my parents.” He steps around you and lifts a hand, a cab setting its blinker almost immediately to respond to his call. “I’ll bring this to them and then we can go to see the bridge.”

He pauses with the door held open, wondering why you’re still standing on the sidewalk, camera in hand.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I don’t really have money for taxis.”

He furrows his brows and puts one arm over the door. “It’s alright, I’ll pay. Don’t worry about it.”

When you slip into the seat next to him he tells the driver the address of his parent’s hotel and the car leaves the curb.

“Four Seasons, huh.” You say flatly.

“Yeah. My mother won’t stay at any other.”

It comes out matter of fact, and he has to look over to see the shadow of a grin around your lips before he realizes your sarcasm is such a subtle tease he didn’t pick up on it at first.

“Are you sure they won’t kick me out?”

He brushes past the portier opening the glass door for you, but as he turns around to look back at you he catches you mouthing a thank-you at the young man in the neatly pressed uniform.

“Of course they wouldn’t. Just- just wait here, okay? I’ll be back in a sec.”

You grin and shake your head.

“Hey Lucas!” You call out then, as he waits in front of the elevator. “Wear something plain, okay?”

“Where do you think you’re going.” Comes the voice from his father, stern and with the disapproval so expertly woven into it that he has long since stopped hearing it.

“Out.” He says flatly, picking up his leather jacket he left draped over one of the chairs on his mother’s side of the bed on his way out, back down to you after switching pants and shoes. The flask with perfume is safely clutched in his mother’s hand. It clinks against the marble vanity as she sets it down.

“Lucas! We have an event scheduled, you cannot be-”

“That’s not my name!” He interrupts the higher voice of his mother, his own voice suddenly spiking.

It’s the name _______ knows you by, an evil little voice whispers in his head that he shoves down.

“That’s not my name.” He repeats into the heavy silence after his outburst, more controlled. “Don’t pretend you care about me being there with you, I would just get in your way, as usual. Have fun getting drunk.”

The heavy oak door cuts off his parent’s voices, the nagging one of his mother and the scolding one of his father.

When he rips the clean, neat button down off of him it almost feels like he's shedding a layer that reeks of his parents. He dumps it in one of the artfully concealed trash bins and tugs the white tee shirt he's wearing underneath out of his pants.

He knows he’ll pay for this little act of rebellion, this act of defiance, but when he leans his head against the cool tiles in the elevator, he doesn’t find it in himself to care.

You greet him with crossed legs sitting on one of the decorative, uncomfortable couches in the lobby, the latest Vogue open on your lap.

“Finally. The receptionist was creeping their hand closer to the phone to call the cops on me by the minute.” You grumble, and it’s really not your fault, but he tips his head back and laughs.

He catches you as you eye the plain white shirt, the leather jacket over his arm. Your eyebrows rise as you take note of his shoes - the Balenciaga’s are gone, replaced with a pair of Adidas, so new they practically sparkle.

“What.” He ducks his head to meet your gaze, but you refuse to meet his as you exit the hotel.

“Just look at you. I can’t take you anywhere like this, people will think we’re super good targets to mug and then leave in a ditch. Here, put this on. And give me your jacket.”

He’s too baffled to refuse to take the flannel you just shrugged out of. It’s still warm when he takes it, and it smells more like the scent he only caught a trace of when you sat next to him. He draws a deep breath and hopes you won't notice.

It’s big, at least for you, but on him, it fits. Out of your backpack you conjure up a smaller, slouchier bag, littered with patches that carry unknown town’s names. A water bottle and a polaroid camera find their new home in it, before you stuff your own jacket into the bigger bag and hand it to him. He takes it, again, slinging his arms through the hoops and adjusting them so they fit him.

“C’mon, bend down a little, won’t ya? I’m not a giant like you.”

He complies against his better judgement, cautious eyes under worrying eyebrows keeping track of your facial features, watching out for any trace of malice that might appear as you come close.

It's all he can do to not flinch too heavily when you lift your arm.

Your hand ruffling through his hair, messing up the slicked-back look, catches him off-guard and he’s left to stare at your face in wonder after you lean back, satisfaction radiating from you.

“There, better. Now you’re just a backpacker like me, with fresh splurged-on shoes. Let’s go.”

He offers to take another cab, to wherever you want to go, but you simply shake your head.

“Half the fun is getting there.” You tell him and his burning calves as you climb what is possibly the steepest street he’s ever encountered.

He admires the way you push forward, always half a step in front of him. At the top you look back to where he’s briefly catching his breath, beckoning him forward with a smile.

His jacket looks good on you, he notices. The sleeves are so long that you can make paws out of them, and in the fresh, almost cold evening air, you do, which he thinks is adorable. In a good way.

It takes longer than he thought, from the bustling core of the fashion district across town. You lead him through the criss-crossing streets, point at stuff, and show him things he’d never notice otherwise.

It’s long since pitch black dark before he’s following you through a patch of trees, down a slight slope.

“You sure this is the way? I-”

“Yeah! It’s just one more corner, bridge should be there then, don’t you fret! I’d never lead you astray.”

Doubt sparks sharply in his thoughts, but he fights it down.

He doesn’t know you, not really, he reminds himself; even after a cab ride and a trek across the city spent talking, but it’s this or the fundraiser.

His breath stinging his sides or his mother's manicured fingers pinching him to keep him from slouching.

The refreshing air, heavy with moisture and the smell of trees, or the stuffy warmth that has him light headed without any alcohol - that is saturated with perfumes so thickly he could cut it into pieces.

He steps in a puddle and his adidas aren’t so white anymore, he’s pretty sure he walked himself a blister somewhere and the cold is beginning to seep in, after the hills of the city are behind you

“Lucas! You coming?”

The name is another setback, another pinprick, but he jogs up to where your voice comes from.

The sky behind the trees is oddly red, as if a great light is illuminating the clouds.

He’s only reached you when you already turn, and he wants to call out for you to stop, wait up, and then…

And then he sees the bridge.

The two towers rise high into the night’s sky, six streams of cars flow between them, one side white, one red lights.

It connects the curving street to the dark mountains across the water, where the trail of light vanishes between the sloping tops.

“It’s good, eh?” You smile up at him, suddenly back by his side. He nods and swallows, unable to look away.

The sight shouldn’t be special, he’s seen bridges like these lit up all over the world, so why is this one so breathtaking?

He hears the snap of the shutter, the clicking of the film being turned, once, twice.

He turns his head just in time to hear it click a third time, and he needs a moment before he realizes the last picture definitely has him in it.

“Hey! Did you take a picture of me?”

“So what if I did?” Your grin is shit-eating wide, and he feels himself give in.

“-That’s not allowed.” He says for a lack of anything better when it looks like you’re still waiting for an answer.

You laugh and turn to the front, admiring the sight again.

The countless headlights sparkle in your eyes, the red glow shining on your face.

He gets the urge to snap a picture as well, and in that moment understands you a little bit.

This close, shoulder to shoulder, the details of your face stand out differently.

He should say something, break the silence that’s stretching uncomfortably between you, but there’s nothing coming to his mind.

You turn your head and meet his eyes, and deep down he dreads the comments that will come, about him staring, about him not conversing, about him being rude.

But all you do is smile up at him like he’s the nicest thing you've seen all day, and inch a bit closer.

“It’s cold, no?” He breathes in, breaking eye-contact in favour of the dark water and the park spreading out around you.

“You want your jacket back?” You’re already lowering your backpack’s strings before his hand catches yours, pauses your movement.

“No, no it’s fine.”

“You sure? I can handle it, I’ve got my own jacket. You don’t have to be all tough, don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Trust me, I’m good.” His hand lowers, and he smiles.

“No it’s not!” You speak up, catching his palm in your own. “You’re all clammy! Here, take your jacket back and give me mine, c’mon.”

No matter how much he protests, you don’t take no for an answer, and fifteen minutes later he’s begrudgingly trotting along the beach on the other side of the street, back towards the city, wearing his own jacket.

Your connected hands gently swing between you.

Now and then you sigh, and then take a breath as if wanting to say something, but then you don’t and he’s left to wonder.

The moon breaks through the clouds now and then, bathing the wide walkway in silver-grey light, and then shrouds itself again.

“What’s on your mind?” He brings out, after another sigh of yours.

Your eyes meet his, your face open even though you’re biting on your lip and struggle with words.

But he meant what he said, doesn’t look away, even stops and tugs you to follow his example.

“I’m just,” You begin, looking off into the distance. “Every vacation comes to an end. Guess I’m both relieved and sad about it at once.”

“When do you go back?” He can’t believe he hasn’t asked until now.

“Next week.”

“That’s still some time.”

“I know. It’s what I keep telling myself, but… Time flies. One moment you’re arriving in a new city and the next you find yourself leaving. Life is so fast sometimes and it’d be nice to... Live slow. You know?”

Oh, he knows.

He’s never known anything slow.

The cars he and his friends drive are fast, whenever one of those friends takes an interest in a girl or a boy or anyone, really, they’re fast to proclaim their love and date and then fast to break up. The planes that are bringing him from city to city are fast, the way he only has to tap his plastic on the card reader and it rings up his purchase, fast.

But you’re slow.

You walk, everywhere, you tell him, and he listens. You talk slow, too, there’s a lot of breaks between your sentences, he learns, and occasionally you’ll pick up a topic to talk about that he thought you’d finished already and moved on from, just to add another perspective he hadn’t considered.

The ocean is slow, too, with the waves rolling on the sandy beach and barely grazing the stone steps you sat down on to watch the water.

“Can I lean into your side for a while? I’m not feeling so well.” You say quietly, barely above the wind and the waves.

He turns his head, takes in how your eyes are a bit distant, staring out over the rippling surface.

Instead of answering he puts his arm around your shoulders, shuffles closer until the length of his thigh touches yours and he can tug you into the side of his body.

Both your arms snake around his waist, under his jacket, and because it is right there and not doing it seems weird, he leans his cheek on the top of your head.

This is fast, too, he muses, cuddling the same day you met; but his sore feet and the hours of walking around and talking make it seem like he's known you for longer.

He can’t remember any of his friends ever having talked so much with him.

The bar in the basement of the hostel is loud, filled to the brim with people, there’s music pumping between the walls and he doesn’t know anyone but you.

You vanish to put away your bags and even though this is a place he should feel more comfortable in, he doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because it’s not so dark that he can still see everyone, and everyone can still see him, and everyone is dressed much like you, if not a little more shabby and run-down.

He’s stood by the bar, waiting for two small colas, because they don’t sell the champagne he usually goes for.

“That’ll be nine bucks mate.”

He waits for the clerk to put the card reader out for him, and when the guy doesn’t, he feels the annoyance bubbling up.

“Card?” He says, irritated.

“Sorry buddy, cash only.”

“What?!”

“‘scuse me says so up front.” The guy shrugs, hands inching closer to take the cheap plastic cups away.

“I got it!”

He turns and you’re back, with hair fresh up and shockingly clothed with just a single t-shirt. Gone are the layers and layers from before, and it's like you're a different person.

You put a note with a ten on it down on the counter, politely say thank you upon receiving your change and then turn, handing one cup to him.

He feels strange, still riled up because of the embarrassment and because you were the one to save him, and because you seem to not find fault in that, just smile and take a sip.

“I’m Yukhei.” He blurts out.

Your eyebrows twitch closer together. “I’m ________.” You repeat.

“No, I mean… That’s my name.” He shifts, uncomfortable.

“And Lucas?”

“That’s… That’s my western name. The one my parent’s call me by. But… Yukhei is my real name.” He takes a sip as well, almost cringing at the sugary taste.

“Do you prefer Lucas or Yukhei?” You take another sip, and your eyes are so soft again.

“-Yukhei.” He answers, looking into them.

“Come on guys, make some room for Yukhei and me alright?”

He preens, unseen by anyone but himself, under the way you call his name, and he takes another sip, almost used to the taste by now.

Under a lot of shuffling and grumbling the present people free up a tiny space on the bench and you motion for him to sit down.

As soon as his butt hits the worn out wood, he finds you in his lap, using him as a seat for yourself.

The hand not busy holding his drink comes up to your hip by instinct, he looks up at you out of wide eyes, lips twitching but finding no words for the bold move.

He's had people grinding down on him in clubs everywhere, this shouldn't feel different. It does. This is so much more intimate.

“Everything alright? If I get too heavy I can get off?” You turn and are a lot closer to him than he thought, noses almost touching.

“Huh? Uh, no, I’m good, don’t- Don’t worry. Is this okay for you?”

You nod, half listening to a conversation happening at the table again.

Over the course of the next hour you go and refill your own and his cups, with fanta this time, which he likes a bit better. Every time you come back to him he looks up at you and expects you to demand a seat for your own now, but every time you shuffle back into his lap. The hand on your hip slowly extends each time until you take his fingers and drag them over until his arm is lying around your belly.

His chin is on your shoulder whenever you’re there, but he mostly listens and doesn’t contribute to the chats much.

To his surprise his trips to Tokyo, Monaco or Dubai sound a lot less glamorous, exciting and adventurous compared to what some of the people here, not even much older, can talk about.

One backpacked his whole way down the Rocky Mountains, across a whole continent; another hasn’t been home in two years and is looking to get another visa somewhere else already.

One has just arrived from their plane coming in from the other coast, and another travelled all of the north and is now looking for something a little more southern.

He learns that you’ve been to quite a few places yourself, listen intently as you recall memorable moments and rant about impossible people you’ve come across.

He squeezes once after a loud round of laughter has mostly died down, and even though you’re currently talking to a girl diagonally across from you, your own hand comes up to cover his and squeeze back, and he doesn’t think twice about it but knows you heard him, told him to hang in there.

Once you’ve both said your words you turn to him, curiosity on your face. The way you’re sat, twisted, is a little unstable and so you put a hand on his shoulder, to keep steady.

“Hm?”

“Where’s the bathroom here?”

“Ha? Oh, it’s through that door, on the left side, you just have to follow- Do you want me to show you?”

He feels silly, already mentally beating himself up about not being man’s enough to just go, but already you’ve stood up, linked your hands and are pulling him along.

“You okay? You’ve been so quiet?”

He feels like his ears are half deaf, now, in the silent hallway after the door to the bar shuts.

“Just… tired.” He avoids your question, but not entirely, either.

“Shit, you arrived today, I forgot… Hey if you wanna get out of here just tell me.”

He nods and mirrors your smile before pushing open the door to the washroom.

You’re still there when he comes out again, leaned against the wall, tapping on your phone.

“All done.” He announces, bouncing his hands by his hips, and you smile at the cute voice he puts on.

"Wanna go back inside? Or have enough yet."

He rubs a hand over his neck and looks to the side.

"I think I can stomach another cola. Or fanta. How much do I owe you?"

You shake your head and wave a hand.

"I’ll send you a bill, pretty boy. Come now, don’t think you get a lot of chances at getting out of your ivory tower to mingle among the common folk, eh."

He wants to open his mouth and disagree, and then he doesn't

You squeeze his hand and part with him before you get back to the table, motioning in the direction of the bar and likely referring to the last drink he mentioned, and he nods and goes to sit back down.

You join him soon after, leaning forward a bit to squeeze between the table and his legs, and over your shoulder he catches the leer of one of the guys that’s been eyeing you a little too much all evening.

But you don’t seem to notice and so he clenches his hand into a fist and presses it against the wood.

Soon after, one of the girls from the right side of the table puts her drink down and gestures towards him.

“What about you, where are you from? You staying in the hostel as well?”

He answers, as best as he can, and he’s had a lifetime of dodging and carefully evading clear answers and if the others are aware of him shifting the topic of conversation around and asking for more travel stories of them, they don’t say anything.

You wiggle out if his lap and whisper you’ll use the restroom really quick and that he better not dare to run off, and then your reassuring weight is gone and he’s alone at the table but it feels safer than sitting at one of the round tables of a gala, with crystalline flutes of bubbling liquid and stiff jackets all around.

The door to the hallway closes behind you and the guy from before turns to the person next to him, an ugly grin spread on his face, and says something low on his breath. Following a sudden impulse he gets up to head to the reception of the hostel upstairs and doesn’t really hear the spoken words, and part of him doesn’t want to, and another part strains his ears to pick it up nonetheless.

When he comes back the same girl who’d asked before directs another friendly question at him and his attention momentarily slips.

But not for long.

His eyes find the door when you push it open again, and in the same moment he hears the two guys clearly.

“..._______ such a slut.”

At once the anger is back and his fingers flex.

“What?” He says, and it’s louder than anything else he’s said this evening. The others at the table pause in their chat, and he feels eyes on him. “What did you just say?”

The guy glances around and then leans back, fake confidence mixing with real one.

“I said what I said. Cute ass, too.”

“Apologize!”

The guy pulls a face. “Why should I? She isn’t here and it’s not like she didn't have it coming-”

He’s on his feet before he can blink and then there’s a sharp pain on his knuckles and the guy is curling forward, pressing a hand to his mouth and cursing.

Right afterwards the guy rises to his feet, and to his satisfaction Yukhei notes that he’s a couple inches taller than the asshole, a little broader too, even though the other guy looks like he packs more muscle.

“You wanna fuckin’ go?” The guy hisses, red seeping between his teeth and eyes glinting.

“Apologize and we won’t have to.” He growls, hand still clenched.

"Yukhei!"

He hears you exclaim into the awful silence that suddenly fills the dingy space, but the adrenaline is rushing in his veins, his blood loud in his ears.

"Stop it!"

"Do you know what he called you? How he’s talking about you behind your back?"

The fury about someone reducing you to a glimpse, a fraction of who you really are, just based on your shirt slipping a little too low-

As if he isn’t just as bad.

Giving you a once-over upon first seeing you, running a mental checklist of brands you were sporting, how compatible your styles were.

He knows how shallow him and his friends, but especially his mother and father are. And maybe that's why his anger is boiling over now, roiling in his stomach. Because he knows he's no better, because in just a couple of hours spent with you he's lived so much more than in the months preceding this trip alone.

But there's your hand on his elbow, the warm skin of your palm as your fingers weave between his, and even though the asshole is still dabbing at his busted lip, sneering so ugly, he lets you. Lets you tug him away, out between the people staring from their seats, into the weird hallway and up the flight of stairs.

"You really don't care that guy called you that? For no reason, at all?"

He doesn't mean to sound this accusing, this hurt that you rejected his offer to stand up for you. At the top of the stairs you turn back, fingers twitching in their hold on his hand. He looks down into your face when he comes to a rest next to you, rubs his thumb over the back of your hand once.

"Of course I care." You blink, and he worries his eyebrows because he doesn't understand. "I don't like being labelled like that, by assholes like him. But it happens all the time. And even if I would've spoken up about it, which I would have, by the way, that- speaking up should have been enough. I'm not going to fucking deck a guy just because he can't handle me showing as much skin as I want. Worse things have happened."

"But-"

"I appreciate it, you standing up for me. But you don’t have to, I can handle it alone.”

The words of protest are heavy on his tongue but he swallows them down.

“I think we need some fresh air.”

He hears you mumble.

The clouds that move across the expanse of darkness above are the colour of rust.

He’s quiet again, but for a different reason than before.

Now and then he sneaks glances at you, wondering when it would be a good time to open his mouth again.

You lead him, again, around corners and across streets until he’s lost his way for sure and could only find his way back by taking a cab.

Then again, he was sort of lost as soon as you brought him out of the fashion district already, so this isn’t that much of a change.

“Hey, you hungry?” You ask suddenly, stopping in front of a fast food restaurant. “I’m hungry. Let’s go in.”

He doesn’t object.

The cup of ice cream he got with your enthusiastic approval is nice and cool against his bruised knuckles.

Through half a pack of crispy golden fries already he sees you pause, with your gaze locked on his hand.

“It’s not-”

He starts, after you swallow and he practically hears you complain already.

“It doesn’t hurt, don’t worry. I’m sorry- I- I’m not sorry about hitting the guy. He deserved it. I’m sorry he said that about you.”

You close your mouth and take a sip of the drink. Just one shared cup, without a lid or straw, because you said there is enough plastic in the oceans already.

You look away from him, put the cup down and reach for his hand.

He wants to object and pull it away but you glare at him and he doesn’t want to upset you further and so he lets you examine it.

There’s a soft, barely there touch to his raw knuckles and his eyes are darting back in time to see you put the most careful of kisses first to where the skin is sensitive, and then to the back of his hand.

He feels himself calm down. It’s like his entire being is solely focused in this moment in your touch. For just a moment nothing else matters.

You lean back and sigh, not letting go of his hand.

“What am I gonna do with you, hm.”

He hopes it’s a question you don’t intend him to answer, because there are no words coming to his mind.

He holds the door open for you as you exit the 24 hour restaurant. The air here in the city is a little less crisp than out at the bridge, but it’s still fresher than inside. His legs ache, and the soles of his feet burn, reminding him of the amount of walking he’s done trailing after you today and then there’s the flight from the morning and he’s very suddenly very tired.

So much so he stumbles and bumps your shoulder, even.

“Hey, Yukhei? You okay?”

And you look at him again, with your eyes so soft, and his hand clenches around the bandana you got out from who knows where and wrapped around his knuckles as a makeshift bandage.

“Just tired.” He whispers, head filled with the image of your face lit up by the restaurant’s neon signs beside you two and the glow of the streetlights to the other side.

“Maybe that’s a sign to head to bed then.” You grin at him, but despite your words, there’s no flirtatious meaning behind them, no other intention than innocent honesty.

“Would you like to come back to my hotel?” He blurts out, hand curling around your bandana over his palm, feeling the tightness of it and the small pain as it stretches over his skin.

There’s doubt on your face.

“The four seasons? With your parents? I don’t know…”

“We could get a room at another hotel. Without my parents. Just… us.”

And he doesn’t mean anything else than what he just said either and instead he’s silently hoping, wishing, you won’t leave him. Not yet. Not like this.

You smile.

“Are you paying?”

“Of course.”

The smile widens into a grin.

“You’re cute when you make puppy-eyes. Okay fine, I’ll bite. Where are we going?”

“To catch a cab.” He huffs. “My feet are killing me.”

“New shoes,” You whistle and pat his arm affectionately. “Yeah, I’m praying for your feet man.”

The big black expensive wooden door clicks close behind him almost without sound.

He doesn’t care.

It’s not the Four Seasons, it’s the next best thing, but the room he left his card for at the front desk is bigger than the dingy bar at the hostel alone, and his chest warms at the sight of awe on your face.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He hears, and turns from the panorama window overlooking the city to see you resurfacing from the bathroom.

You’re holding on to the door frame and seem to be caught between anger and wonder.

“There's a bathtub the size of a fucking swimming pool in here. The fuck. And-” You lift a hand and he sees a bottle of lotion or shampoo in your grasp. “This shit costs sixty bucks! What the entire hell.”

He grins, and it’s one he settles into easily, one of the million-dollar-smiles that are his trademark.

“Like what you see?” He lifts an eyebrow.

You shake your head and put the bottle down, gingerly, as if it isn’t made of plastic and would probably survive a good toss across the room.

The mahogany floating cupboards you pull open reveal a set of bath robes and pyjamas so soft you push your face into the first shirt you pull out, turn to him and shake your head again.

“Wanna take a swim in the bath-pool?” He asks, because he feels the exhaustion with every move, settling deeper into his bones.

You nod and follow him as he crosses the room.

The tub is big, he thinks, but not the biggest he’s seen or even been in. He turns the faucet on and even in here the windows reach from ceiling to floor, allowing glimpses of the streets far below.

You shoo him out to get in first.

The foam is so thick he has to search for your face upon coming back in.

He hears you giggling and then a portion of it moves and there’s your smiling face.

“Come in, it’s amazing.”

He’s reaching for the belt around his robe and you cover your eyes like a child. It feels weird, being allowed such privacy, when all the other girls he’s usually around would eat up any and all chances at seeing him.

He sinks into the foam, on the other end of the tub, because you only agreed to this if he kept his distance and there was no ‘accidental’ touching involved.

He can’t seem to bring himself to mind.

Every other girl he would have met somewhere, in a club or else, and they’d have at least rolled in the sheets once by now. But not you. It feels more thrilling than he could have expected.

“What are you thinking about?” Comes your voice and then a tiny mountain of bubbles gets parted and he’s able to see your face again after sinking into the water.

He shrugs, because that is his go-to answer.

“No thoughts, head empty?” There’s a quirk around your smile like he’s supposed to know what it means but he just nods.

“Tired.” He says, and only after it leaves him does he realize how often he’s said it.

“Are you, really?” You ask, and your voice is softer than before. “Putting what you feel into words is difficult.”

“Yeah, it is.” He agrees, and cups a handful of foam between his palms. “I don’t know. I don’t really need to say what I feel, if I shrug or say that I don’t know, it’s enough for people.”

His eyes glaze over.

“And right now? I mean, you’re tired, but what else is in you?”

“Huh?”

You gesticulate but you're a bit out of focus.

“I, for example, I’m tired too, but also happy because I got to show you the bridge, and I’m in awe at being here, in a hotel room bigger than a house, in a tub with a cute boy I met this afternoon. There’s more, but just, you know?”

He puts an effort into blinking and clearing his eyes, and turns your words over in his head.

“I feel… Tired from travelling, and from my parents wanting me to be like them and going to the fundraiser with them and be seen as their perfect son. I’m… Seeing the bridge was nice. No, not nice, it was… Amazing. It shouldn’t be but it was one of the nicest- most amazing things I’ve ever seen. I liked watching the ocean with you, I felt… Like I could pause and take a breath. This is nice, too. Sharing the tub but not… doing anything.”

He shuts his mouth and it’s strange how light his chest feels suddenly.

“Wow.” It slips out.

Across the foam, you smile at him.

You make him get out of the bath first, cover your eyes again and tell him to leave the room so you can come out, too, but then after you come out looking scrubbed clean and fluffy wrapped in your bathrobe, he goes back in to wash the gel out if his hair and the metaphorical dust of travelling off his skin.

You’re watching the skyline when he re-emerges, smelling like the expensive shampoo and lotion the hotel supplies.

The spaghetti top fits you nicely, he thinks as he approaches, and hugs you from behind.

You stiffen in his hold, just for a moment, and then you relax again, cover his hands with yours.

“It’s so pretty.” A yawn breaks the last word and he chuckles, even though he’s just as tired.

“I know.” He says, but his head is leaned against yours and his eyes are closed.

He wakes to white sheets and the soft golden hues of dawn.

For a moment he doesn't recognize who's in bed with him, hair sprawled over the pillow and half buried under the blanket.

Did he get drunk last night?

But when he reaches back in his memory there's no haze, no blurry images, everything is clear and he remembers everything.

It's you, there with him.

He lifts his head.

It's quiet in the spacious room.

Only the sunlight comes in, and it touches everything into a magical glow.

And among that you sleep soundly, curled around your hands fisted in the sheets, and he leans over to the bedside table, fishes his phone up from there and snaps a picture before he can lose the precious sight.

Then he puts the device away, lays back down and continues watching you, even though his eyes droop once more.

It seems like a dream, everything that went down yesterday, but he is once more reminded that it isn't when he reaches out to brush hair away from your face and sees the bruise on his knuckles, standing out against his skin.

His heartbeat is loud in his ears.

His chest is a bit tight, like his heart is too big for it, and he softly exhales in hopes it might soothe the ache.

He dozes off again, wondering if this is what love feels like.

A hand combing his hair rouses him from slumber, the pad of a finger rubbing his cheek.

He blinks his eyes open and squints at your radiant smile, almost as blinding as the sunlight from before.

"Hey," He rasps, and swallows and clears his throat.

"Hey." You answer, smile impossibly brightening. "Slept well?"

"Mhm, yeah? You?"

You laugh and lean your forehead against his shoulder.

"Yeah. This bed is like a tiny cloud. I feel so refreshed."

"That's good." He smiles and yawns and stretches.

Your fingers touch the smooth expanse of his stomach, revealed as the blanket slips away, and he cracks mid stretch and giggles.

"N-No- Mercy, mercy please! Please!"

The giggles turn into a laugh as you push up into a sitting position and he twists and turns and bats half-heartedly at your hands.

"No." He breathes, trapping your wrists in his palms and pushing himself up as well. "Don't. Bad… Bad human."

Your eyes sparkle again and it's the cutest thing he's seen.

"Okay, okay. I yield."

Satisfied, he lowers your hands.

"Wanna order breakfast?"

"What?" Your eyes widen. "Like, up to this room?"

"Yeah?"

"Isn't there like, a buffet downstairs or so?"

"Maybe? I don't know."

He shrugs, and it's the truth. He doesn't feel like he has to pretend he knows everything.

"Let's get washed up and go downstairs. I wanna have a look at all the rich people in their morning attire."

He purses his lips and is about to tell you there's nothing special about that, really, but his thought process gets cut short by your palm on his cheek and your lips pressing a soft smooch to the other.

He's left gaping while you hop off the bed and vanish in the bathroom, and only after the lock clicks into place does he feel his entire face burn, cheeks tingling with the ghost of your touch.

He brings his own hand to the spot your lips were in just moments prior and is absolutely powerless against the big, flustered grin spreading on his face.

He gets up and out of bed, stretching once more and feeling as good in his skin as he hasn't for a while now, and just unlocked his phone to check for messages when the lock clicks across the room and the door opens.

"We didn't order-"

The words die in his throat at the two figures waltzing in, not even bothering to close the door behind them.

"What did you think you were doing, young man?!"

His mother's words drip venom that could have left black burned holes in the plush carpet under her steps.

At once his shell is back, the hardened surface that had peeled back in your presence.

"Taking money out of your account, eating at a… At a fast food restaurant? Are you out of your mind?"

"You know I usually think you should be allowed your freedom but I'm agreeing with your mother here." His father helpfully supplies, hands behind his back from where he wandered over to the window.

"So what if I do with my money what I want? It's not like it matters to you?"

"That's enough. Get dressed, we're going back to our hotel. Gods help us none of the-"

"No." He says, and feels something welling up inside him.

His mother pauses, glaring at him.

"-Nobody saw you out, that would be such an unnecessary-"

"I said no."

His volume increases alongside his anger at being ignored and talked over.

"Lucas, pull yourself together. Why you would book another hotel room when you have one next to ours is useless spending, not to mention-"

A door opens behind him and he turns. His stomach hits the floor between his feet.

He forgot about you, hidden in the bathroom.

You're carefully closing the door behind you but pause when you realize all eyes are on you and the conversation stopped.

"Good morning." You dip your head slightly, eyes flicking from them to him.

"Lucas, what is that."

His mother asks, not turning her eyes away from you, and you're obviously left speechless at such blatant rudeness thrust in your face this early in the day so you keep quiet.

"This is my friend, mother."

His tone is freezing as he crosses the space separating you and takes a hold of your hand. "Not that it concerns you."

"Lucas," His father speaks up, hands outstretched in front of him. "You know we don't mind you socializing, but someone like that…?"

He obviously means the messy bun you put your hair in, the simple - cheap - outfit with the worn flannel around your hips.

Nobody of their standing would be caught dead like this.

He bristles under the comments, his chest filling with a prickling rage, but then you squeeze his hand and he looks down into your wide eyes and the half hidden panic in them.

"I'll go now. Thank you for everything, Yukhei."

You slip away from him and give his parents the widest berth you can manage before picking up your shoes and taking your jacket off its place by the door.

"No, wait-"

He hasn't asked you for your number yet, or Snapchat, or Instagram or anything; it feels like you're slipping through his fingers and he knows if he doesn't get you to stay, somehow, you'll be gone in a heartbeat and he'll never get you back.

Cinderella running as soon as the clock strikes midnight, but unlike her prince, he doesn't even have a shoe that would allow him to find you again.

"Lucas-" His mother warns him, but with a hate-filled look he's out the door, heart hammering away in his chest at the prospect of losing you.

Losing soft, warm, you, with your slow words and your camera and your view of the world that's so different from his.

He manages to wrench a hand between the doors of the elevator just before it closes and he's panting and high strum when the metal slides back and allows him in.

"Yukhei? What-"

He turns and sees his parents come out the door, and hurries to press the 'close doors' button even though neither of them would do as he did and sprint to catch them.

As soon as the cabin moves, he turns to you, hands feeling jittery and out of breath.

"Can I have your number? Or social media, or address or… anything? Anything I can reach you with?"

"Yukhei…" Your eyes are still wide as you look away from his face.

"Please." He swallows and tries to calm his erratic breathing. "Please, you're- You're the fucking best thing that's happened to me in months, months, okay, I don't- I don't want to lose you, I want to, I want for us to have breakfast together and do stupid tourist shit together and I just want more time with you, please…"

The doors open and reveal the first floor, and the presence of an elderly couple shuts him up momentarily.

They get on and upon seeing the button for the ground level lit up already settle against the opposite wall.

He catches your eyes again.

"Please."

He whispers.

"Boys like you aren't good for girls like me, Yukhei." You tell him, cupping one of your hands over his cheek, and with a sadness on your face that installs more fear in him than his parents showing up unannounced.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and wraps his own fingers around your wrist.

The doors open again and reveal the lobby, and everyone gets off.

"I mean…" You sigh and look around, at the brown suitcases with golden letter print, at the names flashing from every purse, shades or shoes. "I mean, boys like you... Don't spend much time or thought on girls like me. We don't mix and match. We're too different. Boys like you… Lose interest in girls like me once they get what they want."

He knows you're right and he hates it.

He wants to say something, anything, but his tongue weighs too heavy and you look like you know your words are true to the bone.

"And, your parents…" You lift your eyebrows and tilt your head, having said enough.

He feels powerless and he hates it, but unlike with his parents he can't act up, he can't step out of line, he can't risk a slap or punch in exchange for a brief moment of exhilarating freedom. Because you are freedom in the shape of a person already, and he is at a loss at what to do.

"Let me prove you wrong."

A plead. He knows your time together is running out and he knows he's grasping at straws but he's desperate.

"I appreciate that."

A beat of hope in his chest.

"But you don't have to, really. You have nothing to prove to me, Yukhei."

"Lucas!"

He freezes at the shout, the voice of his mother reaching out of the elevator.

"It was so nice getting to know you."

"No- No-!"

And you're slipping from his hands, are gone faster than he can gather his thoughts and defreeze his tongue and all that's left of you is one more kiss, quick and fleeting, pressed to his other cheek and then you're skipping to the exit, look back once you reach the door, with a smile on your face.

His mother's hand takes a hold of his elbow like a claw wrapping around prey, the rings on her fingers pressing into his skin, and her voice is talking but he doesn't hear.

He still feels your soft lips on his cheeks, the ghost of your fingers between his, and it's so little contact to what he's used to from the girl's he's usually around, and yet it feels like it meant so, so much more.

He closes his eyes and hangs his head and mentally shuts off to let the words spoken at him roll off his skin without allowing them in.

It's late and the sky is dark and he's locked in his room while his parents are out on the second evening of the event.

The screen of his phone lights up and he turns his head to check, not really interested in whatever is happening. His attention spikes when he reads the Snapchat notification that he's just been added as a friend.

Turning on his side he pulls up the new chat, and there are the little dots that indicate the other person is writing.

-Yukhei what the ruck!!!

-*f

A smile finds the corners of his lips, the first one since the more than harsh awakening this morning.

>found my gift? ;)

-what the fuck! i can't accept this??

>no take backs. get something nice and pretend like it's a souvenir from me

At least that way you could have something to remind you of him. If you want that.

-that's so much koney tho??? are u sure?

-*money ruck

-*FUCK

>don't worry about it. i owed you, you know. consider it paid back, with interest

Your bitmoji drops down and it seems like you're considering what to do next. It feels good, to know you received the envelope he left at the front desk in the spur of the moment, his Snapchat handle scrawled on it alongside a short “Please add me when you get this :)”

Then…

-did u get in trouble? bc of me?

>nah

>my parents caught me doing worse

He pauses and bites on his lip, weighting pro against con of telling you.

-do i want to know??

>hosted a party and couple of my friends had an orgy in my parent's bedroom. they came back early and…

-holy fucking shit what the fuck

He opens the camera and snaps a selfie, pouting and adding a text about being grounded for the remainder of this trip.

He holds his breath in anticipation until the little pink square next to your name fills out and he can click on it.

It's a close-up of your face, from an incredibly unflattering angle, and you're clearly not shredding an ounce of sympathy for him.

No text is added.

He sends another pouting selfie, zoomed in as well and lays on the puppy eyes thick.

The next image is half your face hidden under your blanket, with the word "no" taking up much of the screen.

He swipes into the main menu and then further to the friend page, clicking on your story.

What unfurls before his eyes is a miniature movie, single pictures taken all over the city and pieced together with selfies and you talking to yourself.

At once his heart beats a little faster.

His screen lights up, months later, and still his heart won't beat normal.

That morning a letter arrived for him - a letter, for him, in a battered envelope with an entirely foreign stamp and his name proudly on it.

It's from you.

In it he found copies of the pictures you took of him in front of the bridge, the light and dark touching his face.

And then the tiny polaroid he had asked you to take two times, one for you and one for him, and then hadn't gotten the chance to take it with him.

He'd snapped a selfie of the letter and him and sent it to you before opening it, and now he's blinking to keep the tears from spilling over.

Wong Yukhei does not cry, especially not at something like this. And yet…

But instead of an answer snap to your “omg u got mail!!” he opens the screen to a video call, and hurries to brush his eyes dry and fails when the connection stabilizes and he can see you.

It's a different time of day for you, and your hair has grown and changed, too, but the smile that's on his screen is still the same, radiant one as before.

"You got my letter!"

You exclaim, and even though it's a bit warbled and the rendering is a bit blocky, he feels your excitement.

"I did."

"Was beginning to think it got lost in the mail. Do you like the pictures? I put the polaroid in as well, did you-"

"Yeah," He smiles, and the word comes out rasped. "Yeah I- I got everything. Thank you."

You smile again.

It's so nice to see you again.

The words spill out before he can hold them back.

"So, hey," He brings up, an hour later just before you have to end the call. "I'll be flying out next month, to- Maybe we can-"

The grin on your face impossibly widens.

"You serious? My town? When?"

"Uh-" He has to minimize snapchat to pull up his calendar to tell you the exact date.

"You wanna meet up? Get to know my city?"

Warmth explodes in his chest, showing in a barely contained smile of his own.

"Yeah! Yeah that… I'd love that. More walking for me."

You laugh and then both of you fall quiet, content watching the other for a moment.

"I'm happy." You tell him. "I'm really happy I'll get to hug you properly. This-" You gesticulate towards the phone screen. "-isn't really holding up well."

“I’m looking forward to it, too.”

He drops his head on his pillow and smiles.

notes: i hope you liked it :) comments/reblogs make my day, so if you send an ask or just say a few nice words, i’d love that ^-^

you can also find all my other writing on Ao3 - runningfaucet is my @ there

119 notes · View notes

peaceoutofthepieces · 4 years

Text

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

The following clip contains mentions of mental illness and suicide attempt (near the end — when Lucas starts talking about his mother). Feel free to skip that section and message me for a brief description.

~^~

Friday, 19:41

Songs: Haux - Something To Remember; SG Lewis - Warm

Jens’s hands shake as he unlocks the door, nudging it open quietly with Lucas close at his back. He steps into the dark hallway and flicks on the light, dropping his keys on the small table as Lucas shuts the door behind them. Jens wills himself to relax, reminds himself that they’re alone as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook and allows Lucas to do the same.

“What did you say your parents are doing?”

“They’re having a date night for their anniversary, booked a hotel room. Lotte’s staying at her friend’s house.”

Lucas hums, tugs Jens around to face him and slides his arms around his waist. “So we’re alone, and you can chill.”

Jens drops his head onto his shoulder and nods, pressing a kiss to the crook of Lucas’s neck. He reaches behind himself to take Lucas’s hands and then leads him into the house. Jens plans to take him on a short tour, but they get interrupted at the first stop. Ace slinks out through the doorway to the sitting room and immediately winds himself through Jens’s legs, gazing up at Lucas warily.

“You have a cat?” Lucas asks, grinning down at the furball.

“Yeah, and he can be kinda bitchy, so I’d hold off on becoming a fan.”

As Jens says it, Ace butts his head against Lucas’s leg. Lucas raises his brows, grinning widely as Ace wraps around his feet. He leans down to scratch behind the cat’s ears and earns himself a purr as Ace rubs his head against his palm.

Jens watches the interaction with a glowing heart. It had been a spur of the moment decision, when Jens had asked him to come over. He hadn’t allowed himself to overthink, but had just jumped at the opportunity. He can’t remember the last time he has had the house to himself, but it certainly wasn’t within the space of time in which he’s known Lucas. Jens had only managed to spend the two nights so far with Lucas due to pure luck. Lucas had snuck him in the first time, and then his father had been working an evening and morning shift the second. They have never got to spend a full night truly alone, just to themselves, and that’s what Jens wants. His body thrums with the need for it even now, having ratcheted up a few notches since last Friday.

It’s almost unbearable, how much he just wants Lucas’s hands on him. It’s definitely embarrassing.

He may also be hoping to coax Lucas into opening up a little. Lucas has been a little quiet the past few days, thoughtful. He keeps turning to Jens as if he wants to say something and then stopping with a smile, offering him a kiss instead. Jens doesn’t mind the added affection in the slightest, even while being teased by his friends, even while wondering why it doesn’t freak him out. Lucas touches him and everything else seems to go still. That doesn’t worry him.

But there are other questions that still cause him concern, and he’s waiting and waiting for Lucas to provide the answers. He’s desperately reminding himself to be patient, to be trusting, but it’s difficult. It’s harder when he fears the faith isn’t being returned.

It’s familiar.

“You were so cute,” Lucas marvels, snapping Jens out of his daze. He’d wandered into the sitting room on his own and now stands admiring the photo frames on the mantle. His mouth stretches into a grin, taking in various images of Jens at different ages, none of them all that flattering.

“Come on, I didn’t bring you here so you could tease me,” Jens protests.

Lucas turns to him and raises a brow, smirking. “I thought that’s exactly why you brought me here.”

Jens flushes, but doesn’t deny it.

Lucas walks back to him, laughing quietly. “I’m not teasing, though. I mean it. You’re adorable.” He presses up onto his toes and kisses Jens’s nose.

Jens resists the urge to roll his eyes at him or drag him into a proper kiss and leads him to the kitchen instead. Lucas traipses after him leisurely, taking everything in, trailing his fingers along the wall. Jens opens the fridge. “Do you want anything else to eat? Or drink?”

“Uhm, just water, maybe?”

Jens pours him a glass of water and hands it over, filling one for himself and leaning back against the counter before taking a sip. He considers Lucas for a moment and then holds up a finger before slipping out to the back door. He cracks it open and immediately catches sight of Nugget on the step, waiting patiently.

Jens huffs and steps back, opening the door wider and allowing him to scuttle in and run straight to the kitchen. Jens returns just in time to see Lucas drop into a crouch, face lighting up with excitement as Nugget barges right into his hands, tongue hanging and tail wagging as Lucas sets his hands in his fur.

“Hi,” Lucas coos, voice taking on the tone Jens has only ever heard people use with babies. “You’re so cute. What’s your name? Huh?”

Jens bites his lip as he makes his way over to him, shaking his head at the display. By now Nugget is scrabbling at Lucas’s hoodie, having raised onto his back paws to get closer. “This is Nugget,” Jens introduces. “Nugget, this is Lucas. I was gonna warn you not to be jealous that I might like him more, but obviously he’s not gonna let that be a problem.”

Lucas grins up at him, entirely amused by his sigh and his pout. “You’re still my favourite,” he soothes. “Even more so now that I’ve met your dog.”

Jens laughs, but he is soothed. He relaxes even further as Lucas raises back to full height and draws him into a kiss. They enjoy the few seconds before Nugget barks, and then Jens is huffing and pulling away, looking down at him with a scowl. “Why did I let you in?”

Lucas smacks the back of his head for the comment, but kisses him again immediately after his whine of pain. Jens goes about getting Nugget his food and water as Lucas sits down on the floor and plays with him, looking entirely at home in Jens’s kitchen. It has an effect Jens can’t quite describe beyond the race of his heart and the flutter in his stomach. They spend a little while in this space, talking quietly about nothing. They discuss their studying, exams, assignments, for a few minutes before shutting it down in the agreement to take the night off. Nugget comes to settle himself in Lucas’s lap after filling his stomach, having already taken ownership of the boy. Jens might actually be a little annoyed if he didn’t feel so fond.

After a while, he lets Nugget back out into the garden and takes Lucas upstairs.

He has a brief moment of panic in which he wonders over the state of his room, not entirely comforted by the reminder that he has seen Lucas’s space in utter disarray multiple times. He’s glad when he opens the door and can’t inmediately see a mess or any laundry lying around. He turns to look at Lucas hesitantly, biting his lip as he watches the boy look around, taking in the space with delicate attention.

He moves around, examining the books on Jens’s shelves, his small collection of old CDs. He roves his eyes over the walls, where football posters are still tacked up alongside some of his drawings. Lucas zones in on these, lips twitching up at the corners as he gets closer.

“I didn’t know you drew.”

Jens shrugs. “I don’t, really. At least not like you. Not seriously. Just those kind of doodles.”

Lucas smiles fully, nodding. “They’re cool. Maybe you have a knack for art after all and aren’t just a secret makeup nerd.”

“Oh, Robbe already sent me some of the edited version of that. Do you want to see?”

“Really, already? That was quick.”

“It’s Robbe,” Jens laughs. “He’s always working.”

Lucas nods and Jens nods back, crawling onto his bed and patting the space beside him as he takes out his phone. Lucas settles down against his side, making himself comfortable on Jens’s shoulder the second he’s given permission. Jens pulls up the video and hits play. He relaxes into his pillows, focused more on Lucas pressed against him than the video. Lucas’s quiet laughter is enough of an indicator, and Jens only looks at the phone when he groans, covering his face with a hand.

“I can’t believe I let you rope me into this. Kes and Jayden are gonna see this and they’ll never let me forget about it.”

Jens huffs, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he watches the footage. It’s one of the close-ups of Lucas, showing off the smoky eye Jens had managed to give him as he looks up at the camera, shaking his head before Jens stills him, laughing. “You look really pretty, though. I mean it,” Jens adds, before Lucas can roll his eyes or laugh it off.

The boy blushes instead, glancing up at him under his lashes, smiling widely. “You think so?”

Jens hums, tilting his head down to kiss him, relaxing further. “You always do, though. My handiwork just helped a little.”

“Oh, is that it?” Lucas laughs, leading Jens to hum again. “Okay, I see.”

Jens goes in for another kiss, but something has distracted Lucas. He leans up and away from Jens as he looks at his shelves again. “Is that a keyboard?”

Jens follows his line of sight before nodding.

“Moyo said you were more of a musician. Why have I never heard you play?”

It’s a simple enough question, and yet it makes Jens nervous. “I don’t know, I don’t really do it as much anymore.”

Lucas looks at him, soft and curious. “Would you play something for me anyway?”

Jens only hesitates for a moment before getting to his feet and fetching the instrument. He settles on the bottom of the bed, facing Lucas, who had leaned back to lie against the headboard as he watches him. Jens balances the keyboard on his lap and takes a moment to turn it on and adjust the volume, pressing a few keys to test it out and give him time to think of a song.

Eventually he settles on a score he’d learned recently, devoid of lyrics and focusing entirely on the notes. It starts off slow and allows him to get into a rhythm, fingers shaking, fluttering through the first few sections before gaining a little confidence as the rhythm becomes familiar.

It’s nerve-wracking, being able to feel Lucas’s eyes on him. Having anyone’s eyes on him. But he focuses on the music, and doesn’t falter.

He floats his hands naturally over the keys, having settled entirely by the time the rhythm picks up. It’s still not the hardest speed, and has a few repetitions, and it doesn’t take quite enough of his attention to make him forget about Lucas. He chances a glance at him when it slows down again, fingers lingering on the keys. Lucas is watching him with rapt attention, lips slightly parted, entirely focused. He looks much too enticing to just be lying here, in Jens’s bed, watching him, not doing anything to distract or attract attention and managing it anyway. Jens quickly averts his gaze down again and falls back into the quicker notes.

By the time he reaches the high section, his heart is at ease. It flows out of him in the stillness of the room, his pulse matching the ebb and flow of the music as it tapers out. It fills him with a light only music can, a familiarity now long ingrained in him. It’s in his nature, to pour himself out through his hands into the keys.

He holds the last note for an extra second, then looks up at Lucas. The boy is already watching him with a smile, eyes alight with that familiar wonder and misty with something Jens can’t identify. He crawls down the bed towards Jens and draws him into a kiss, deep and slow, careful of the keyboard in Jens’s lap as he tangles a hand in his hair. Jens kisses back reflexively, heart thudding.

“You’re amazing,” Lucas murmurs, after a few minutes that may just be seconds, expression still achingly soft.

Jens shakes his head, incidentally brushing their noses together. “It’s nothing special.”

“It is,” Lucas argues. “You are.”

Jens shuts his eyes and presses closer to him, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. They remain there for a moment before Lucas quietly says, “I want to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

It’s exactly what Jens had been hoping for, but it surprises him. His chest feels tight as he sets the keyboard aside and devotes his full attention to the other boy, who now avoids his gaze, nervously playing with his hands.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Jens reminds him. “But I’m listening. Nothing’s gonna scare me away.”

Lucas nods slightly, licking his lips. He lets out a shaky breath before straightening his shoulders and looking at Jens, resolute. “I know you don’t really understand why I stayed in Utrecht, or why I felt like it was my fault when my mom…” he trails off. Takes another breath. Starts again. “I didn’t tell you, but I fucked up before. After my dad left, everything was a little shitty. I couldn’t do it on my own, couldn’t even understand how to begin. I just needed to get away from it. I spent as much time as I could out of the house. With Kes and Jayden, at their houses or at parties, drinking and smoking. It wasn’t a big deal then, because it’s what we were all doing. I wasn’t just some rebellious, angry kid or something.”

He seems to falter, so Jens nods. Reminding him that he’s listening and also attempting to encourage him on. Jens presses closer, letting their knees bump before he takes Lucas’s hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the backs soothingly.

“I didn’t even think about how I was barely seeing her. I was always home late and she was always asleep early. Everything was fine, so I could keep ignoring it. I got home one night as usual and didn’t pay attention to the fact that the door was locked, or that it was unusually quiet. I was shitfaced, so I just went straight to bed. Imagine the fucking shock I had when my dad woke me up shouting the next morning.”

Lucas huffs, self-deprecating, and Jens resist the urge to pull him into his arms. Not yet.

“She was in the hospital,” he says quietly. “She’d downed half a bottle of pills and the neighbours found her. They’d had to call an ambulance. My dad was still her emergency contact. And I had no fucking idea about any of it.”

He looks up, eyes watery, and Jens pulls him in and holds onto him tightly. Lucas folds against his chest, tucking his head easily under his chin as he clings to Jens’s red hoodie. Jens strokes a hand down his face and presses a kiss to the top of his head, breaking down what he’d been told and trying to figure out how he’s supposed to respond.

“Fuck,” is what he eventually settles on. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Luc.”

Lucas shakes his head, gripping him tighter. “If I’d just been there, it wouldn’t have happened. I didn’t even know she wasn’t doing well. She was supposed to have someone who could watch out for the signs. She was supposed to be safe with me.”

Jens shakes his head, squeezing him, trying to convey comfort and reprimand all at once. “That’s not fair. None of that is on you. You don’t even know that you could have stopped it.”

“But I could have tried. I could have gotten to her sooner. I could have done something.”

It’s so adamant that Jens doesn’t feel like he can argue. He tries to put logic to it, but it doesn’t feel like something that can be broken down in such a way. He doesn’t think that’s what Lucas wants. He isn’t looking for pity or for Jens to excuse him.

Instead, Jens says, “I understand, Luc.”

Lucas presses closer to his chest, but finally glances up at him. Jens notes that though it had seemed like he would, Lucas hasn’t shed a tear.

Jens strokes his fingers down his cheek and presses a kiss to his forehead, watches him shut his eyes. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Lucas nods, swallowing slightly, tilting his head against Jens’s cheek. “I just—it was too hard to explain right away. It isn’t something I talk about often. I mean, it’s been over a year since it happened and she’s past it, but I’m not. It’s dumb. Getting rid of the guilt...it’s something I’ve worked at and failed on for so long. Going back to her now, and messing up the same way just reminded me of what happened then and I couldn’t let it happen again. I’ve tried so hard, Jens.”

Jens cups his neck and tilts his head back enough to press their foreheads together, sending only comfort now as he gives another nod. “I get it. I’m not mad, Luc. I never was.” He sighs, letting his own eyes close as he attempts to gather his thoughts. “It just scared me. I know that I fuck up easily. I say or do stupid things and I don’t always pay enough attention. I’ve made it hard for people before. I was worried I’d done the same to you.”

Lucas shakes his head against his. “Hey,” he coaxes, touching Jens’s cheek. “I didn’t leave because you made it hard and I didn’t ignore you because I don’t trust you. I went home to tell my friends how much I care about you and I fucked up while I was there. I didn’t want to be the reason anyone got hurt, and I thought the best way to protect you was to let you go. But I fucked up and I’m so, so sorry Jens.”

“Don’t be,” Jens murmurs. “Just promise me you’ll stay.”

He has a feeling that they aren’t done. He’s aware that even if there is truly no more to het out of Lucas, Jens has his own demons lingering between them. But right now, Lucas is in front of him. He can’t bring himself to care about anything else.

“I’m staying,” Lucas swears instantly. “My life is easiest with you in it.”

“I know I’m shit at this, too,” Jens whispers. “At talking about things, and just being honest. I know I can make it hard to trust me. But it—it’s been hard for me to trust anyone, too.”

Lucas strokes his cheek, nodding, expression pinched.

“But I trust you,” Jens admits.

Lucas swallows. “Nothing is hard with you. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been sure of,” he replies.

Jens kisses him, hard and unrelenting, and Lucas gives as good as he gets as he slides his hands under Jens’s hoodie.

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #sink or swim #vds season fic #sos clip

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Fourteen

Read Earlier Chapters Here My Masterlist

Part Fourteen, This Is Family

The following morning was like a balloon slowly deflating.

I woke up dozens of times during the night. Nurses would come and go, a night doctor came to check on Laykn a few times, and every time Harry moved underneath me, it tugged me back to the room. It felt like waiting for a flight, there was this restless stillness in feeling like something was coming, and I needed to be ready for this to be the time I woke up to it.

There was a sense that morning would come, and Laykn's doctors would waltz back in and have answers.

What really happened was that my parents returned from their hotel just after seven a.m. and when Laykn's doctor came back to see us, he wanted to wait until the late afternoon before changing anything. I flicked between watching Dr Davies as he spoke and looking to Harry from where he was standing in the far corner to me, giving up his seat so each of my parents could have one. He frowned through the news but gave nods of understanding where he seemed to agree with what was being presented to him.

But I wanted to know now. I wanted Laykn to wake up now.

I felt we had already waited entirely long enough.

"Has he gotten better overnight?" I asked carefully, but I could taste the impatience in the words, right on my tongue, "I just—Is he, I mean …"

Dr Davies gave me a look that said he really couldn't hypothesise, "Looking at the monitoring from overnight, he's definitely not gotten any worse which is sometimes the best news you can have at this stage. We're not seeing any of the things we worry about—a spike in temperature, further bleeding, swelling—so, so far Laykn's doing well. He's doing okay for now. I know it seems like nothing, but I promise you it's not. We'll review and talk again in another six hours, but we'll know even more in twelve. That's when I'd be thinking we'll start to see a shift and be able to talk about trying to wake him up for you."

"Twelve hours," I repeated aloud, mainly for myself. Harry gave me a small but infinitely reassuring nod, "Okay."

"In the meantime, stay with Laykn by all means, but Nina and Harry," he looked between us both, "You should go back to wherever you are staying and freshen up, have a nap, eat something. Laykn's going to need you all as he comes through this, and you're useless if you're not looking after yourselves. And each other."

"Thank you," my mum said for us all as Dr Davies left the room. She turned to Harry and I, "He's right. You came straight off the plane here, you haven't even checked in—oh, is that going to be a problem with your hotel?"

"It's fine," Harry pacified, "I let them know we wouldn't arrive until today."

"A shower and a nap," my mum reached for my arm as Harry started collecting our belongings, "You'll feel a thousand times better, trust me."

I thought about telling her I didn't know that I could feel any better, much less a thousand times so, but instead, I pulled her in for a long hug. I took the handle of my small, carry-on suitcase from Harry as he gave my parents both a hug as well.

"You'll be a new man too, Harry," The warmth in my dad's voice was evident, "Can't imagine you can feel any of your limbs right now after a night of Nina sleeping on you?"

"She's pretty comfortable, actually," Harry returned with a smile, "We'll call you from the hotel. Was there any problem with yours?" He asked as an afterthought, frown settled back on his forehead, "I can—

—Ours was perfect," my mum confirmed, giving Harry an appreciative smile. Something warm chinked together in my chest at Harry's care for my family, "Go now, both of you need showers and something substantial to eat. And you should call your family, Harry. We spoke to everyone at home last night."

In the hotel bathroom, Harry stayed under the spray of the water much longer than me.

I stood in front of the mirror carelessly towel drying my hair, wearing the pyjama set Harry packed for me. The steam from the shower and the smell of hotel soap had the whole bathroom giving off the perpetuating clean, warm feeling I enjoyed most.

Neither of us was speaking, and there was no song being hummed under Harry's breath as he stood behind the thin glass pane. When he eventually got out and stood behind me to dry off, he was frowning tersely, as if deep in some thought he couldn't get a hold of properly. I gave him a slight smile and tried to ask the question with my eyes: are you alright? While we ate, Harry called his mum and told her what was going on, and listening in on that conversation added another layer of realism to this whole thing. As if he read my mind, Harry's neck turned away from our reflections, and he gave me a concerned look.

"Your mum is right. You hadn't had a meal since we left London," his hand thoughtlessly gestured out from where we are in the direction of the suite where we'd just finished a couple of plates of room service, "We're going to have to take some food back with us if we're going to spend long hours at the hospital."

I was suddenly too tired to have the conversation I knew needed to happen, "I know," I agreed readily, part of the hollow feeling I'd had for the last twenty-four hours now filled with food, "But right now I swear all I want is to lie flat. Can we nap and then make a game plan?"

Harry paused, if only for a moment, "Yeah, we can."

"We both look like zombies."

Ten minutes later, under the perfectly crisp hotel sheets, Harry rolled over on his side to face me, "This doesn't feel like it's really happening, does it? I don't even know what day it is anymore and it's only been one day."

I hooked my knee up onto his thigh and pressed my forehead against his shoulder, "It doesn't feel like Laykn's even there, does it?" I whispered, "Like, without him being awake, it's like … I don't know."

"We should figure out where he was staying, go get his stuff," Harry said, "His passport and all that."

There was silence then for a few moments then, all I could hear was Harry's breathing and the soft hum of the city outside the hotel room. The sheer volume of thoughts and feelings I'd had in the last twenty-four hours was overwhelming, and as I took in a slow breath, the smell of Harry's clean skin was a final straw.

He heard me sniffle and pulled his arm out from between us to wrap it around my body, "I know," was all he said, which was somehow the perfect thing for him to say.

I cried against his shoulder until the release of it had simmered down all the conflicting emotions rising up in me. Eventually, it was just both our steady breathing, and the only way I knew Harry wasn't asleep was from watching his eyelashes blinking on his profile, lit slightly from a crack in the curtains. His fingers had stilled on my skin, and there was no sound from him. Just blinking. Just staring at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered.

"The baby," Harry replied easily. "And Laykn. And how quickly life can change without you realising it's going to. No warning for either, you know?"

I smiled minutely, "Well, we had a little warning with the baby. Just didn't know it was a warning, did we?"

Harry's hand fanned out on the top of my back, "That's true. I'm just—I'm glad that in both those things, in both these things, I've got you. I'm so grateful for …" his voice strained. Harry squeezed my shoulder to his side, "For you, and for us being solid but mainly I'm grateful you told me to pull my finger out a few months ago because boy I don't know if that douchebag could've handled this shock to the system. Not well, anyway."

"I'm grateful for you as well," I pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"I think we should call your doctor in the morning," Harry said quickly, as though it had been right on the tip of his tongue to say, "Tell her what's happened and find out what we should do or even if there's anything we can do."

"You're worried, huh?"

"Yes," he turned his head towards mine, "I'm worried. I'm worried about everything. But I can't do anything about your brother, and I can't make your parents feel any better, and I can't quell your fears either, I can make sure we look after you right now."

"Are you worried about the tour as well?" I said quietly, sure it would be on the list somewhere.

"I'm really not," Harry rolled completely on his side, "I don't give a shit about it, I can do a tour whenever. The only thing I'm—I don't like that postponing dates will …"

"People are going to talk about it," I finished for him.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "Dan sent through the statement earlier, do you want to read it?"

He was already reaching behind for his phone on the bedside table. The room lit up as Harry unlocked his work phone and held the screen between us, flicking through until he found the Mail app and opened it.

From: Dan B.

To: Harry Private

Subject: RE Statement, Clean

Mate, we can make any changes you like x

It is with deep regret we announce the indefinite postponement of the final leg of Harry's tour following a family emergency. At this stage, we do not know when the dates will proceed. We know this news is upsetting and will come as a shock to you all. We ask that you respect Harry's privacy at this time, and the privacy of his loved ones. Full Stop Management, on behalf of Harry Styles.

Will be posted as white text on black background on all channels. Comments disabled where they can be.

Awaiting your approval.

Love to you all, DB

We didn't say anything, and I knew Harry was waiting for me to speak first. It was straightforward and clinical, which was often the way with the communication out from Harry's team. This felt different, though, because it was talking about something deeply personal, without talking about it at all. I knew the layer of distance was protection. Harry was very deliberate in putting there.

"I think that's what you have to say, right? Is there anything else you'd like to include?"

Harry shook his head, "No."

"You didn't want it to come from you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I only wanted eyes on it, I'm turning off my work phone after this. Dan can reach me if he needs to. Otherwise, I'm not working right now. I want this handled professionally, not personally."

"Okay," I wouldn't have minded if he'd felt the opposite, but wasn't surprised to hear him say it. "Well, I think you give them the okay then turn it off."

I watched him type out a quick response and do just that. He didn't hesitate or second guess it, just sent off his approval and that was that. The screen went black a few moments later, plunging the room back into darkness and I wondered if Harry was thinking about the fallout. What the next step he wasn't going to be involved in would mean. I wrapped my fingers around Harry's wrist and brought it to my mouth, kissing the warm skin there and then holding it to my lips.

"I'm not worried about it, Nina," he said eventually, turning his head to the side once more and finding my temple with his mouth, kissing me, "Just want Layk to be alright."

I woke up four hours later to Harry's phone ringing.

"Shit, sorry," he jogged into the bedroom and ripped if from where it was charging, "It's your mum."

I sat up in the sheets straight away, the initial shock of waking to the noise increasing tenfold by who was on the phone. Harry had it answered and on speakerphone almost instantly.

"Hi Mae," he said, lowering himself down to sit on his side of the bed.

"Hello, love, we just tried Nina's phone—"

"—I was asleep, I'm here, is he okay?" I cut over her speaking, staring at Harry's face in front of me.

I could hear movement behind her in the speaker, "Yes, yes, yes," she reassured us, I watched Harry let out half the breath he was holding, "The doctors have just been in, and they've made the adjustments that will wake him up. They think it'll still be another few hours—"

—We'll be there within the hour," Harry told her nodding despite my mum not being able to see it.

"Hopefully before that," I added quickly.

After getting off the phone with my mum, Harry and I sat still for half a beat before I realised I'd been clutching the bedsheets too tightly. My white knuckles released the material slowly and rubbed my palms down my face.

"Have another shower," Harry suggested, still watching me, "Wake up properly. I'll order some room service we can pack and take with us."

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked as he stood up and started walking out of the room, I pushed back the covers and rose to my knees.

"Yeah, I got up about half an hour ago to check in with mum and for a stretch, got some kinks in my back from the flight and—

—And me sleeping on you?"

He scrunched his nose up at me, "Maybe a little bit, now go," Harry nodded towards the bathroom door.

The shower helped with the fuzzy shock still hanging in my skull like a cloud. Eventually, the reality of the call with my mum set in and urgency set in. I shut off the water and got out, feeling something close to optimistic hope bloom. As I dried off and found fresh clothes to put on, I could hear Harry moving around the room. By the time I was coming out of the bedroom looking for the shoes I'd deserted when we had arrived earlier, he had a few brown paper bags and pieces of fruit sitting on the hotel dining table ready to take with us.

"Can you see my sneakers?" I asked him vaguely, hopping over his open suitcase that somehow hadn't made it into the bedroom.

He looked up from his seat, "At the door."

I hopped on one foot when I returned to the living area where Harry was, and, eventually, I dropped down onto the sofa beside him to slip on my shoes. Just as I was about to ask Harry if he was ready to go, his phone rang out loudly again.

"Richard?" He said quickly as soon as he answered, Harry, held his phone vertically out between us. "We're just about to leave the room."

"Oh good!" My dad's voice rang out, happy and lighter than it felt I'd heard in days.

Had it really still only been a day?

"Lakyn's awake!"

"What?" I exhaled, "Mum said it would take hours."

"That's brilliant," Harry said after me, a surprised grin on his face, "How is he?"

"Talking to your mum in the room now," dad continued, "He's groggy and a little disoriented, but he's awake."

The tears burst out of me immediately, loud, ugly tears that didn't arrive quietly, "Dad."

"I imagine he'll be asleep again by the time you get here," he told us, "But we told him you're here. He gave us a dopey smile."

"We're coming right now," Harry promised urgently. "Just as soon as Nina can manage to get her second shoe on."

My thumb kept slipping, and my heel would land outside the shoe again, I swatted Harry's shin at his teasing.

"It's because she doesn't undo the laces. And get her to stop crying," dad laughed, "You know how her brother hates any grand show of emotions."

"Shut up," I sniffled to them both, relief flooding through me in waves I couldn't quite believe. I violently shoved my foot into the sneaker one last time and wriggled it until it slipped in properly, "Ah! It's on. We're on our way, dad."

Harry deposited his phone into the pocket of the short sleeve, button-up shirt he was wearing. When I met his eyes, we were both smiling.

Harry shook his head and laughed, "Your fucking brother."

"He's awake!" I squeaked, crawling over Harry's lap and crossing my arms behind his neck. His hands settled on my waist, warm and steady, I planted a firm kiss on his lips, "I love you."

He smiled against me, "I love you too. Let's go."

Laykn slept for nearly six hours.

It was nearly 2pm by the time we got to the hospital, and when we arrived, my parents were sitting on either side of my brother, each with a book opened on their laps. A stark contrast to having sat watching him for any sign of movement for almost the entire twenty-four hours previous. There was a new calmness to the room, it felt less like an emergency situation somehow.

"Hi," Harry said behind me as we walked in and interrupted them.

My mum was up and hugging us both hardly a moment later. Harry and I got the recap on Laykn, and what his doctors were saying now he had woken up and fallen asleep. While we were talking, Harry slipped out, and it wasn't until he returned with four take away cups of tea I realised where he disappeared to.

And so then we waited.

Harry and my dad found a deck of cards and worked their way through all the games they knew between them. For a while, I sat to moderate and score. My mum sat at Laykn's side with her book, and about three hours in I pulled out Harry's laptop to try to get a few bars of symphony down. I gave up after another hour or so, his software wasn't up to date, and I couldn't remember the section I wanted to work on. Where momentary relief had cured my mind for most things, it still wasn't in work mode. I could hear the game of Snap starting to get nasty, Harry with his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration while my dad completely crushed him each round. I interfered before the name-calling could get particularly nasty, plonking myself down on Harry's lap and declaring my hunger to the room.

"I'd have beaten you that time," Harry insisted, dropping his cards on the table, "Nina broke my focus."

My dad rolled his eyes, "Sure you would've, son."

"Harry's got sandwiches," I announced, "One of them has mustard in, I had a sneaky peek as we left the hotel."

My mum stood up and stretched out her back, "I" m not quite ready for food yet, we did tell people at home we'd call them when it was morning their time. Richard, I could use a walk?"

My dad stood obediently, and pressed a kiss to my head as he walked past, "Look after our loser," he said of Harry with an amused smile on his face.

"Well," I let a puff of breath out once Harry and I had the room to ourselves, "That was rude? Why didn't they want to eat with us?"

Harry started pushing me off his legs, "Because we only had lunch two hours ago. They' v been in this room all night, I understand the need for a walk. It's good you're hungry, though."

I watched as Harry rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag and two bottles of water. He returned to the table but took the seat my dad left, resting his elbows on the table and watching me with mild humour as I tore into the bag.

"I have to tell you something."

I frowned through chewing my first bite, Harry's face was unreadable if not a touch guilty, "What?"

Harry's eyebrows dug down as he looked to his hands on the table, "I told my mum … About being pregnant."

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of me, "Harry! You told her? What?"

"I know!" He cried out, "We're not meant to. I know. But with everything going on, I was so worried and stressed and fucking terrified for you. I didn't know how to deal with it all without talking to someone."

"Harry," I said softly. He was so earnest, and the concern was apparent on his face, "I'm okay."

"Didn't know that this morning," Harry mumbled. "I just needed her advice and help with what to do."

"It's okay," I took another bite of mustard and cheese goodness, "What did she say?"

That's when the smile appeared on Harry's face, "She's really happy about the baby. It was hard to keep her on track, really. She had good advice as well, just needed a clear head in on it with me, you know? I mean, then your dad rang and now things are a little lighter."

I knew how much Harry trusted his mother's judgement, and I truly loved it about him. Anne was a steadying force in his life, and when Harry couldn't trust himself, he could always trust her to have the answer. I had come to trust her voice in our lives as well.

"She's happy?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, and his smile turned into a megawatt grin, "Bloody elated."

"I'm glad you told her," I said honestly, "I'm sorry you've had to be so worried. I—

"—Hey, no," Harry frowned at me again and gestured to Laykn's bed without looking, "This is exactly where your head is supposed to have been. The baby happened so quickly before we left, it's… It's hard to keep everything in my brain at the moment, really."

"Whose baby?" A voice across the other side of the room said.

Harry and I both shot to our feet and turned to Laykn whose eyes were open and looking at the hospital ceiling, unfocused, but once I was at his side, they were clear and unmistakably those of my younger brother.

"Laykn," I breathed out, "Laykn, hi."

"Hey," he croaked out, "You're having a baby?"

I could barely see him from the tears brimming in my eyes, and just as I was about to evade the question, Harry spoke.

"We are."

"Harry," I hissed through an almost-laugh. "Stop telling people!"

"I might forget," Laykn piped up again, "Although I remember mum and dad saying you two were here … Was that today?"

"Yeah, mate," Harry responded, pressing his hand on the bed above Laykn's shoulder and leaning up over into his line of sight, "You spoke to them this morning. It's nearly 5pm now."

An expression fluttered on Laykn's face but couldn't stay there from the bandages. When he spoke, it strained his voice to try and inflect the humour behind it, "So my brains aren't leaking out my ears?"

"Laykn!" I scolded.

"Not yet, Layk," Harry said evenly.

I watched Laykn's eyes close in an exhausted flutter, "Are you really having a baby?"

Something softened in me at the sudden vulnerability in his voice and the way it was clearly difficult for him to be conscious this short amount of time, "We are," I told him, "We only just found out though, so you've got to keep the secret for us. Mum and dad don't know."

"Ah," Laykn sighed, "I can keep my mouth shut, but it'll cost 'ya."

I sniffed back, tears, "You idiot."

Whether it was our news or the moment, or Harry hovering over him and me scolding him, I watched Laykn's eyes pool as well. The skin around his eyes reddened, and a tear budded and then rolled down his cheek.

"I'm really fucking glad you're both here," he said through the emotion.

"Of course," Harry responded, "We love you. It's so good to hear your voice, mate. You scared us all."

"I scared me," my brother added quietly.

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commander-orca · 3 years

Text

COTW FANFICTION

CHAPTER 9: THE BROKEN AT EACH OTHER’S THROATS

“Hello Kannavi! Itia greeted, stepping into the infirmary through the front door.

She wore a tunic from here she’d been given on the first day, after the treatments. Her brown hair, still very soberly tied, was discreetly tousled by the wind and her monocle bore the traces of the sun on the glass. She seemed relaxed and the smile on her face, although shocking at first had gradually become one of the expressions she was wearing the most.

"… Hello Itia," the latter replied hesitantly, looking up from his remedies. "Tell me, weren't you supposed to stay in bed for five more days here so the wounds would heal well?" "

Itia nodded in his direction, keeping her smile, bathed in warm light.

“No worries, I'm counting on it. It’s just that I’ve gone out to listen to Suoh's speech.

-Ah. And how was it? "

The young woman raised her palms to the sky, showing that she had no particular opinion.

" I don’t know. He didn't show up.

-Oh ".

The rays of sunshine which accompanied her arrival faded once the door closed with a heavy slam and the room was plunged back into the shadow. Itia quickly took off her shoes and hung her jacket on the coat rack. Kannavi’s eyes followed her as she strolled across the room to her assigned bunk to sit comfortably, legs under the sheets. She breathed peacefully, her chest heaving in regular gusts of air and was mentally present. This carefree, almost lazy air was also new to her, who always seemed wary in Empire territory. Kannavi kept his inner remark to himself and went back to work, rolling up his sleeves.

He was busy crushing herbs in a mortar, then pounding them with a roller, doing a bit of a botched job. He had fallen behind on the chores he had been given for today since he had failed to wake up on time. Fortunately, the infirmary was half empty, most of the patients were still sleeping and Itia's excursion benefitted him well since she didn't seem to have noticed that he had only emerged from bed half an hour ago. Using the excuse of a new environment disrupting his sleep schedule might work for a while, but people here would eventually find out that he wasn’t actually very punctual. However, keeping up appearances for a while wasn't bad in itself; this would allow him to form a new, more flattering temporary image before inevitably one would decide to fire him. In addition, this job was not stressful and did not have the constraints of a superior on your back screaming at you all day that you sucked, unlike back in the Empire. This job was pretty relaxing. So, Kannavi would push himself to work hard and try to stay affiliated for as long as possible.

There were only a few things that really mattered in his life. Making sure you didn't end up on the streets or in jail was one of the most important things. The rest didn't matter. Since childhood, he had had little free will in the end, lugged from family to family like a trinket. Then the army. All these things had been decided for him, without him having a say or being able to influence the course of it and yet, it did not bother him that much. Making decisions for oneself seemed to affect people with crippling anguish and give them all the tools for an even stronger grudge against themselves. That didn't mean he wasn't attached to anything. The young nurse was careful never to stray too far from Orca. But Kannavi preferred his little quiet position; the rudder of his life was not in his hands, he was content being carried by life, chance, people, and if he found himself in an unpleasant situation, he would only have to wait until it would pass. Knowing that we wasn’t at fault for the misfortunes that befell him, or those of others, was a calming thought.

The water in the pot began to boil and he set the temperature to low. He lifted the lid, added the few mint leaves he had pre-cut and the herbal powder he had crushed. The water immediately took on a reddish tint. He replaced the lid on the container.

Rather than a fear of trying or failing, the reason was outrightly simpler than that: Kannavi really didn't wish for anything. Nothing really arose any desires and that surge of excitement others sometimes had looking at their goal from afar, motivating them to work harder, was relatively unknown to him.

"Excuse me if I'm disturbing ...", asked suddenly Itia's voice hatching through the hissing of the pan, "But can I talk to you about something?"

Kannavi raised an eyebrow, astonished by this wording. People never came to him for serious discussions. Hands caught in the herbs, he continued to extract their juice and stir it vigorously in a bowl. Without looking back, he said:

“It depends on what you want to talk about. I am often told that I am not very delicate, you know ... "

Behind his back, Itia's voice grew more hesitant. The blankets had just moved and she too, making the slats of the bed creak. Outside, a gust of wind shook the windows and the shutters creaked against the walls; the weather was getting colder.

"I know, but ... I have the impression that you are the only one who can really enlighten me on that topic”.

-Mmh. Go ahead... "

At that moment, the door to the infirmary swung open and cracked loudly against the back wall. A clear, confident voice exclaimed, echoing through the room:

“Kannavi! "

Itia jumped up and fell silent, crouching in the back of her bunk, disappointed. Taken by surprise, Kannavi whirled around, his gloves dripping with berry juice beading on the floor. Orca strode towards him. He looked cheerful and more light-hearted than he had been in the past few days, which reassured him. When he had visited his friend at his place a few days ago, Orca had subtly tried to hold him back, stealing part of his night before he had returned to his own hut. The young nurse suspected nightmares, linked to their last adventures perhaps ... However, he was dumbfounded to find him here; usually, he refrained from visiting the most vulnerable and from mingling in the places where the inhabitants gathered.

Orca grabbed his shoulders, half laughing, half teasing. His pale hair twitched at the rhythm of his smile.

"Kannavi, I thought I was going to die of laughter ... I walked out of the council and ... Saw you take a sprint all the way here half-dressed ... I see someone overslept again!

The nurse gritted his teeth and turned a quarter of a turn to glance over his shoulder; he could feel stares on him. Awakened by this sudden animation in the infirmary, a few patients sat in their beds and were now staring at them with a disapproving air. Kannavi grabbed him by the arm, a small displeased pout clearly visible on his face. What an idiot. The duality of his personality was probably a little too strong at times: playing the eloquent strategist at important meetings and immediately switching to a carefree joker when he was no longer doing anything related to his personal affairs and interests. That was probably why he got into so much trouble.

"Oru ... Lower your voice a bit! Come to the back-shop ... And you just ruined my coverage! I'm going to be fired now ... "

Orca took a quick look around and looked as though he had finally realized the presence of the convalescents. He immediately put his hand to his lips, feeling sorry. Nodding, he quietly followed the direction his friend was pointing. But it would have been to be underestimating Itia who sat up on her pillows, looking furious and threw her legs to the side, ready to jump.

“Wait… Kannavi !?, Itia exclaimed, whose mind had just connected the dots to Orca's words,“Did I hear correctly? You just arrived ?

-Uh ... "

Kannavi readjusted his apron, looking for something to make up or justify. But frankly, there wasn't much to say… He sighed, giving up any attempt to lie.

Orca watched him, putting his hand over his mouth once again, but most likely hiding a chuckle this time around.

“Itia, please come too. If you want to reprimand me, reprimand me in the back-shop”.

Itia got up hastily from her bed, her face closed and fists clenched, and walked in a straight line towards the storage room.

"And that I will do," she muttered through her teeth. "You too, Sir Orca".

Orca raised a few fingers awkwardly at her as she walked past him, a sly smile on his lips.

“Hello Itia.

"Hello Sir Orca," Itia retorted, coldly, as if she had just returned a mockery.

Her figure disappeared under the beaded curtain that separated the main room from the storage area. The brown beads tinkled for a few moments, knocking against each other, hinting between their strings the shape of a shelf and medical posters stuck against the yellowed walls, then froze again, giving the curtain the air of a real wall. Silence fell in the infirmary. Orca exchanged a look with Kannavi, Kannavi's wide eyes meant he was expecting to be given some wild dressing down. His friend nodded, pulling his long hair to the side and shrugging, silently exposing him that he didn't know what he had done to get there. The two men followed her, both looking constrained and sheepish. Kannavi entered the storeroom and leaned against one of the shelves containing the syringes, stethoscopes, and other essentials. Orca removed a stack of papers from the old chair and sat down, bringing the papers to his knees. Itia, for her part, closed the door to the storeroom and remained standing in order to appear more authoritative. She crossed her arms, looking at them in turn, saying nothing. Orca turned his head, pretending to be captivated by the medical scale. He whispered faintly to his friend:

"Ah ... I don't like it when she does that." It means she will -

- Tell me, are you not being serious ?! "

Orca stopped talking immediately, blinking several times. Fury shook Itia's voice, the two of them didn't have to look at her to know that.

"Do you think you are on a vacation or staying at a hotel? Think you can afford to skip your assigned duties and lounge around all day ?! "

“Itia…” Kannavi began, taken aback, “I must have told you already, but… I'm not very good at keeping a job. But I’m trying, obviously. I don't want to lose this job, it's the quietest I've had so far ... "

Itia's face took on a more scarlet color. Swooping down on the young nurse, she grabbed one of the flyaway locks sticking out of his head.

"I can’t believe it! Is that all you care about, Kannavi ?!

–Not my hair Itia, please, ”he begged,“ They still have to grow! "

Orca stared at them, alarmed and hastened to cover his own hair with his hands.

Itia released a panicked Kannavi and walked away. In the corner of the room was an old, moth-eaten desk, neglected because of its disparate surface area that made it difficult to disinfect. The young woman grabbed it with both hands and pulled it with her. She brought it to the center of the room, in front of the two men, after much effort and squeaking. Perched on the table, her legs hanging out to the side, she smirked. It was a more than satisfying sight: these two slackers, looking at her from below, somewhat tense, anticipating what her next move would be. A rare sight that neither of them turned a deaf ear to her or only half-listened to her! But, remembering what she had to say, she lost her smile and granted them a serious expression.

“I believe you’re still caught up in your illusions or you just don't realize, but these people are our only chance to have a normal and maybe even happy life. We hurt them tremendously, many of them died under our attacks. And yet, they’re forgiving us! "

She paused, scrutinizing them closely. Strangely, a glimmer of full attention burned in Kannavi's eyes and he had shed his slumped position. On the contrary, Orca was looking away, occasionally smoothing out the folds of his dress over his crossed leg.dominant, but his wiggling pupils in their sockets, proved that he was also drinking her words.

“We need to give them reasons to trust us a and to have forgiven us! If all goes well, maybe they will allow us to live here. It would be convenient, we who have nowhere to go now! But it is not by botching your work - Itia stared firmly at Kannavi - or by doing nothing - she let a glare fall on her superior - that they will come to consider such a thing!

Kannavi held up a quiet hand, hoping to be able to place a word. He made a small thoughtful sound, but avoided completely contradicting the young woman. His hair still had a long life ahead of it.

"Excuse me, Itia, but I think Orca does a lot for the Clay Whale. He participates in all the councils and has recently started on guard tours ... "

Orca turned his head towards him, eyebrows raised. Itia scowled, looking annoyed. Her hands took the shape of a triangle as she looked up at the ceiling light.

"I know that, Kannavi, but you see, I think Sir Orca has to work twice as hard as we need to."

“Not to the point of collapsing anywa—” the other protested, before being interrupted by Orca who had placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, as if making a call for him to stop.

“No need, Kannavi. She's right. I have to try harder ”.

Kannavi stared at him flatly; Orca was already very involved. Was it possible to try harder? Itia, meanwhile, fixed her pair of eyes on the commander, as if she was rediscovering him. He rarely admitted his wrongs. It was a good thing, it put her in a good mood.

“Anyway, we owe them a lot and I think it is essential for us to help. I can clearly see the efforts of Sir Orca ", she resumed, in a more tender voice,"And I see, given the level of fatigue he has shown in recent days, that he’s worked a lot ".

Even though, embarrassed at the thought that he had plausibly caused her chickweed, her superior lowered his head.

"Get more involved ... What I mean by that is that I find you oddly withdrawn, Sir Orca," Itia said, a soft and compassionate smile dawning on her lips. “You should dare more to sympathize with them. Regain self-confidence. The people of the Clay Whale also recognize you as the one who saved them from an undisputable disaster now ... "

With that, her superior looked away again. Itia, who continued to look at him, began to swing her legs off the top of the old desk, having lost track for a moment. Kannavi took hold of the silence to think about something that had just re-appeared in his thoughts. Itia had said she wanted to talk to him on a certain subject. A subject on which only he could enlighten her ...

"Well ... I'm aware that I haven't done much myself either. I have caused concern and as an injured person I require extra work. I hope I can get down to business soon.”

- You must not feel guilty Itia. These injuries are not your fault… I'm sure you'll find a way to be useful here and fit in really well, ”Kannavi assured him.

The young woman smiled at him, thanking him with a nod, then her gaze fell on Orca who had risen from his chair and dusted his dress vigorously. Itia put her hand towards him as if to hold him back, then hid her hand behind his back.

"Leaving already, Sir Orca?" "

Orca's bangs slid to the side as he swiveled his head towards her to fix her in amusement.

"You give us nice talks about the usefulness of being productive but find it useful to just sit there twiddling your thumbs?" "

Itia scowled and crossed her arms again.

“We’re not twiddling our thumbs. I argue with you for the best. You could have waited for me to finish! "

Orca raised his eyebrows, not losing that mocking smile.

" Well ?

"M-Make an effort to get along with people, please," Itia grumbled, irritated by his impatience and rudeness, “And be more polite”.

Her boss gave one last cheeky little smile before nodding and walking out the door. He arched his back to squeeze under the curtain. The young nurse followed him with his eyes, inwardly amused by this vision; Orca was almost too tall for the dimensions of the Whale, and you sometimes thought you saw an intruder in a children's village. In front of him, the young woman came down gracefully from the office and slandered in frustration. Why did he always have to nod with that smirk that seemed to mean he didn't get it?

“Ah! By the way, Itia, you wanted to talk to me about something ...? Kannavi asked.

The young woman seemed to hesitate. After a while, she opened her mouth to start something, but a high-pitched crash suddenly interrupted her. Then, bursts of voices. Dismayed, Kannavi got up immediately and hurried to the main wing of the infirmary. Itia sighed loudly. You could never have calm for a second here ... Following the nurse, she stepped through the beaded curtain and froze, just like him at her side. The two young people found Orca on the other side of the curtain in confrontation with the Prince of Amonlogia. Slightly behind them, the island's chief, Suoh, stared at a small object at his feet, his palms still open suggesting it had once been in his hands. Rochalizo took a step closer to Orca, his concave nose upturned with great contempt.

" What’s your fucking problem!? You’re all quiet now. Think you can get away with this ?! "

The atmosphere that fell on the room had grown heavy. Dozens of pairs of eyes on them, the two leaders stared at each other in silence, exchanging mute threats and disdain. Orca met his gaze, firm, yet not trying to defend himself in the slightest. Rochalizo's heterochromic eyes were very lively, seething with explosive rage. Kannavi focused on the faint marks of saimia appearing on Orca's forearms, jiggling dangerously, then on the Prince's clenched fists which vibrated crescendo on either side of his body; he thought for a moment that they’d come to get into a fight. But the tension dropped somewhat and the latter finally clenched his teeth and exclaimed again in a calmer, hissing voice:

“Go back to the Country, you only cause issues here. Nobody wants you, not even your sister! "

Orca rounded his eyes for a moment, but didn't show more of him being destabilised. Hiding behind his eyelids and long bangs, he walked out of the room quickly.

Running after him, the young nurse held back the clapper and also rushed outside. Silence fell, sharper this time and suffocating. Itia bit her lip, completely shattered. Presumably unaffected by his surrounding’s unease, Rochalizo crouched down to pick up the pieces of the object - the small sculpture of a tree made of wood, half of the branches and trunk of which had split in two from the shock. . Once gathered between his fingers, he came back to Suoh's height and sought his gaze insistently.

“Suoh? Are you okay ? He jostled you, didn't he? "

The young chief's face darkened a little more and his hands fell against his sides like a relaxed rubber band.

"Hey, answer me," the Prince persisted, scratching his friend's apron with the tips of his blue fingernails. The words were harsh but the gesture was gentle.

Itia could only watch them, feeling deep inside her a great despair threatening to drown her entirely. Was it futile to try to obtain forgiveness from civilians? Rochalizo was not part of the Whale but they seemed to have adopted him for good. The inhabitants, maintaining in their customs a sympathy and a great compassion for others, had never reproached her for not being in her place or for being an enemy, nevertheless, this tradition of 'forgiveness obliges' did not say everything and sometimes she could feel a reminiscent indignation in their hearts, which had not been listened to, for lack of any outlet. Rochalizo's lack of tact was certainly hurtful to those who ran and crashed into it, but Itia appreciated it for the sole reason that she was sure it was the key to understanding how people here felt, what 'they dared not say. The Prince must have had grown up in an environment which had encouraged him to be frank… Itia couldn't say that was wrong, but his harsh words risked causing further clashes.

Did Rochalizo's words hurt Orca by the way? No one could be sure. She would probably go check on him later in order to oversee the mental strength of his superior. Superior who had just caused another incident ... What a pity. She was starting to wonder if her words had really had effect, when Suoh's voice pulled her from her personal introspection.

“Excuse me, Itia. I was dumbfounded for a while and - he gave a light laugh - I must’ve dramatized. After all, it's just a statuette. It is possible to do it again! "

Rochalizo, looking unhappy to have been pushed to the conversation’s background, leaned forward, still trying to get the island chief's attention.

“It's not just a statuette. Remind me how many hours you spent there ?! You have the right to be pissed off.

"As long as it's not human loss, I don't care," Suoh assured, looking serene.

With the broom hanging from the workbench, he too knelt down and quickly collected the last splinters of wood littering the ground that Rochalizo had neglected. Itia was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. In normal times, she would have paid little attention to it; the misfortunes of others are usually not her problem. Taking care of other people's problems always brought a lot of trouble. However, in this delicate position, his inability to be able to repair the damage caused or to be able to do something to alleviate the situation caused her great distress. Mortified, the young woman bowed before them, not knowing how else to express the guilt that was rising to her head.

“I'm really sorry for what happened. I'm sure Sir Orca didn't wish for any of that to happen, "she stammered a little before coming to herself and stating clearly," You have to know ... He thinks highly of you! "

Rochalizo mumbled something between his teeth that sounded like a:

"Yeah, well when he gets something from it ..."

Itia bowed again, an attempt to renew her assertion. A benevolent smile broke on Suoh's lips. Clasping his hands together in front of his now soft face, he reassured her as best he could.

“No need to apologize, Itia, please. There are still tensions between our two peoples, but it will only get better, - the Prince pulled a pout which was ignored by all - I am convinced of it, believe me! "

The young woman nodded. Suoh was the lung of the island; his patience and the strength of his ideals would guide them. She had no choice, she left it entirely to him. If the Clay Whale and the United Kingdom of Siderasia had managed to come to a diplomatic understanding despite barbaric beginnings, there must be chances of striving for peace between their nations. Tensions would eventually run out of steam and, perhaps, new bonds would blossom, based on a land of mutual trust and aid.

"I'm in your hands, Suoh," Itia repeated, solemnly, her eyes closed.

A ray of sunlight shone through the infirmary, lighting Suoh's face in a golden glow. His long dress shimmered in the light, its whiteness evoking a divine sign, uttering in the room, a moment of peace. His clasped hands tightened more firmly, a proof of his resolve.

" Of course. Our agreement is only partly postponed. After all, even though we are so much more than that, we are all here victims of the Empire, aren't we? "

As they left the building side by side, Rochalizo pulled Suoh by the sleeve, forcing him to slow down. His worried expression, shaded by the red strands falling over his eyes, he seemed to want to give in to anger, before resigning himself. Hoarse and at the same time cracked, like the sound of a candle crackling in the night, he called out in a low voice:

" Hey. Suoh. Your hands are bleeding again”.

Suoh didn't bother to lower his head to the skin covering his joints, unalarmed. He was used to seeing on his hands, those fingernail marks crossing his flesh with scars or bright red gashes barely coagulated, manifestations of his anguish and inner sadness. It was a habit before, a daily sight since the day Sami died. However, knowing that they were engraved deep in his skin, accompanying him in daily adversity, was a sign of comfort inexplicably. It was the evidence that he had survived until then all the most disastrous days and that he had a way of getting rid of strong emotions. Suoh resumed his walk, imperturbably.

“I'll take care of them when I get home.

“No, you're going to take care of them now,” the Prince stubbornly raised his voice.

With force, he grabbed the shoulders of the young chief, standing in front of him to block the way and anchored his eyes in his menacingly.

"And wear bandages. Now."

The threat in his voice was clear, but his nervous twitching lower lip implied another thing.

"I would like to know ...", Rochalizo reiterated, his voice shaken, as Suoh looked down at the stream of blood flowing from his knuckles to his elbows, "... Why you hurt yourself so much these days".

#cotw fanfiction #suoh #rochalizo #rohalito #suou #children of the Whales #children of the whale #Kujira no Kora wa Sajou ni Utau #Kujira no Kora #les enfants de la baleine #knk #orca #orka #orca cotw #cotw orca #kannavi #kannabi #itia

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