#lmk hand motif

[imminent-danger-came]

Monkeys + Hand over Hand

#yeah #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk parallels #lmk hand motif #shadowpeach #the light is no mystery #so like. When MK and Wukong do this next season- #SWK V MK #to me #lmk MK #lmk Macaque #lmk SWK

[urhoneycombwitch]

witch of ages, cleft for me [part I]

🍯 honey flavour: Christmas-themed fluff and comfort

🐝 the bees: Eddie x greenwitch!reader, ft. The Gang (special appearance by Max Mayfield herself)

wc: 3.8k

Content warnings: weed mention, cussing, reader is given a nickname (Poppy), fem verbiage/motifs used for reader, r is a witch with a troubled home life, fluff, pov Eddie for part I.

foreword: new series alerrrrrt. self-inserty? MAYHAPS. I’ve endeavored to keep reader neutral enough for general x reader purposes while still givin’ her some flavour. please lmk if I need to update the cw to make things more clear. smut in later chapters planned so MDNI. happy readin’!

Christmas has never been Eddie’s favorite holiday.

When he was a kid, and his mom was still around, sure- he’d do the whole peppermint sticks in cocoa, snowman-making schtick, but that was ‘cuz his mom was his favorite person and, well, shit, he didn’t have any Scrooge-like tendencies back then. He was just a kid.

The lack of holiday cheer came later, settled in around teenage-dom, never quite left. Eddie can count on one hand the number of memorable Christmases he’s had, and this one sure won’t be added to the list.

Wayne had made a valiant effort that morning to distribute the cheer- holiday radio buzzing tinny over the stove while he flipped pancakes for the two of them. Didn’t even grouse at Eddie for taking a premature smoke break. Over breakfast, he’d slid a brown paper-wrapped parcel across the table and said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Wayne,” Eddie teased, slamming a hand in the middle of his chest, syrupy palm sticking to the old band t-shirt he was wearing- “I thought we said no gifts. You’re going soft on me, old man.”

“Old man my ass,” Wayne had muttered, but Eddie was already tearing into the paper.

It was a killer gift. Special edition Tolkein, bound in red leather, gold lettering and vines curling around the sides. 

Eddie was stunned into silence as he turned the book over in his hands. Wayned tapped the edge of the chipped mug he held, thoughtfully. 

“You survived this year, boy. That’s something to celebrate.”

Clearing his throat that’d gone stuffy with emotion, Eddie flipped through the pages reverently. “Well, shit. I keep up my living streak and you get me a sword replica next year, that what you’re tellin’ me?”

Wayne had chuckled, then risen from the table to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “Don’t push your luck, kid.”

He’d offered to take Eddie along on his Christmas Day Drive (as he’d called it, which was actually just code for Wayne and his fishing buddies getting sloshed on schnapps in some dingy Hawkins living room), but Eddie had declined (assuring Wayne that no, actually, he wasn’t gonna be moping around the house- in fact, Steve’s throwing a party and he’s gonna go).

Which they both knew was code for Eddie staying home and getting high. Wayne took his time getting out the door, shuffling around the kitchen, instructing Eddie to eat something in his absence, finally taking off in that rickety excuse for a pickup just before noon.

Which suited Eddie fine. Really. He was sprawled out on the couch now, arms lax above his head, dozing catlike, thinking about lighting up one of those joints rolling around under his bed. Trying not to think about you.

And sure, yeah, maybe he stayed home ‘cuz he was hoping you’ll call. The holidays are making him sentimental, not pathetic. 

‘Kay, maybe a little pathetic.

You’d been over at the trailer last night, curled into his side on the couch while Wayne snoozed in the corner chair, It’s A Wonderful Life playing for no one in particular, when you’d told him quietly that you weren’t gonna be around the next day.

“You mean for Christmas?” He’d asked, rubbing a smooth path up and down your arm. “How come?”

Your fingers plucked a steady rhythm at one of his shirt buttons, head resting on his chest, so all he saw was the crown of your head while you explained. “I mean, I’d rather be here. With you and Wayne. It’s just… my dad asked me to hang out. And he never does, yanno? Least I can do is give my old man a few hours to try and make it up to me.”

Eddie was quiet for a bit. Even though you knew about his turbulent familial life (god knows he’d told you more about it than anyone else in his life- your fault for being such a goddamn good listener), he didn’t think a lecture about how disappointing fathers could be was quite appropriate. 

So he’d said “Sure, sweetheart, if that’s what you want,” and he’d kissed the top of your head, breathing in that earthy blend of cardamom and sweet mint that you’d tapped into your skin that morning, and you’d thanked him for understanding and gave him a kiss so soft he could’ve cried. 

You looked like you were going to cry, yourself, saying goodbye later that night in the doorway, backlit dreamily with soft streetlamps, arms wrapped tight around your frame to keep out the cold. 

He’d kissed you goodbye once, twice, got a little goofy with it and pressed quick manic kisses across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your eyelids that were scrunched with amusement, as if he was trying to memorize your face with his lips.

“Just one day apart. We can do that, right?” He’d said, holding you at arm’s length, trying to assure himself just as much as you. 

Your eyes were misty underneath the rim of your knitted hat, but you’d nodded, hiding the tremble in your bottom lip with a brave tilt to your chin. “Just one day apart.” And with a final kiss, you set off down the snow-covered path, waving a red-mittened hand over your shoulder before getting into your car.

So you weren’t gonna call today, Eddie knew that. He’d have you tomorrow, curled in his lap with that strange herbal tea that you were always trying to get him into, and you’d tell him all about your holiday with your dad that you lived with but barely knew. 

Just one day apart. He could deal with that, right?

Eddie groans, scrubbing his hands over his face and turning belly-down into the couch. 

The thing is, he’s not the overbearing type. At least, he tries not to be. But when you meet the girl of your dreams under circumstances such as the end of the world, you tend to be a little more on the anxious side of things. 

Eddie can’t actually remember the last time you’ve spent more than a few hours at a time apart in the last four months; at first it was you playing nurse, tending to Eddie for weeks after the demobats had fucked him up, rotating from couch to makeshift floor-bed that was probably hell on your back. Not that you’d complained. 

Those days were a narcotic-fueled haze in Eddie’s memories; the first week he really only surfaced when he smelled the bergamot wafting from your neck each time you leaned over to change his dressings, or when he heard the gentle tinkling of those delicate flower chain earrings and stacks of thin silver bracelets you wore.

And then your time spent by his side just sort of naturally… evolved, along with your feelings for each other. He’d been crushing since high school on the starry-eyed, quiet little thing that sat behind him in Kaminsky’s class. The fact that you were rumored to be a witch really only encouraged his flirting by the day. 

You weren’t so easily enamored with him- not playing hard to get, necessarily, but you never seemed to have time for romance- what with your whole saving the world thing. Information that Eddie was now privy to, after all that Upside Down shit. 

Eddie would have happily taken his crush to the grave (nearly did, he has Dustin to thank for dragging his bony ass topside) if it meant keeping things between you both smooth. Because it was smooth, easy, as natural as breathing, being around you. The fact that you made the first move as soon as he was healed up (on this very couch, no less) was a dream come true. You’d basically attacked his mouth, a story he loves to drag up at the most torturous times just to see you light up with embarrassment before he kisses it better.

So now you wear one of his guitar picks on a chain around your neck and he spends his spare change on moody 70s cassettes to stock in his van for the midnight drives he loves to take you on; neither of you want to put a boyfriend/girlfriend label on each other ‘cuz it feels weirdly trite, for the amount of intimacy you’ve got going on. 

Belonging, though, that’s a phrase you’ve both used before, to each other. You’re mine. You belong to me. Said sweetly and chastely during backyard BBQ’s at the Harrington house, with possessive fierceness between open-mouthed kisses, whispered cozily under the cover of thin sheets and sprawling nights. 

He was your boy, for sure. You were his girl. And fuck’s sake was this day without you dragging its goddamn heels.

Eddie pounds a closed fist into the couch cushion, petulantly, then shoves himself up and off, the metal chains at his hip clinking with the sudden movement. He roots around in his bedside table drawer, then the top of his bureau where you stash your clothes sometimes- clothes that probably still smell like you. If he’s gonna be pathetic, mind as well be really pathetic, right?

Eddie’s just pulling out one of your lacy tanktops with a victorious fist pump when there’s a knock at the front door. If it’s carolers interrupting this pity-party, he’s gonna lose his shit.

But it’s not carolers. It’s Max Mayfield, red braids poking out of a green knit hat that he knows for a fact you made her last winter. She’s holding a blue tin of Danish butter cookies, customary scowl on her freckled face.

“You gonna let me in or make me freeze to death? Don’t think I won’t call child services on you, Munson.”

She ducks under Eddie’s arm, and he lets the door shut behind her with a bang. “Look, Red, Merry Christmas and all that but I’m really not in the mood to-”

Max holds out the tin, bracketed by her fuzzy mittens. “These are for you. My mom’s making me take some ’round to all the neighbors.”

Eddie pops the lid and is mildly surprised to find not the customary butter cookies but a neat stack of gingerbread people, with gumdrops for buttons and chocolate chip eyes peeking out from the wax paper. 

He lifts an eyebrow at the girl, who’s dripping melted snow into his carpet, and can’t help but tease. “These look like they took some effort, Red. You treat all your neighbors this nice?”

Max glowers again, crossing her arms best she can against the thick puff of her coat sleeves. 

Eddie bites the head off one of the cookies and points the desiccated corpse in her direction. “You want something, huh.”

“No,” Max says, a little too quickly, then sighs, and cranes her neck down the hallway. “Not from you, anyways. Where’s Poppy?”

Eddie flinches a little at the nickname the kids all use for you (an homage to the red lipstick you used to wear, or maybe it was the detention you got for getting caught with a jar of the seeds on school property freshman year, the story changes each time he asks) and drops the partially-eaten cookie back in the box. “She’s not here today.”

“She’s here every day,” Max counters, still looking down the hallway hopefully.

“Trust me, I wish I was lying to you,” Eddie continues, snapping the tin closed and setting it on the kitchen counter. “She’s with her dad for Christmas.”

“Poppy is willingly spending time… with her dad… for Christmas?” Max repeats the information slowly, as if she thinks Eddie is not so bright.

He lets his silence and return scowl do the talking for him. Max stamps in place, knocking more snow onto the carpet, annoyance rolling into uncomfortability. “Uh. Okay. Well… I guess I’ll just… ride my bike to the party across town. In this blizzard,” she tacks on, pointedly.

There’s a beat of silence. Eddie drums his fingers against the countertop. It’s hardly a blizzard, and there’s less than an inch of snow on the ground, but he knows what you’d do, if you were here, which you usually are.

“Goddammit,” Eddie cusses, before snatching his keys off the hook behind Max’s head and stuffing his arms into his thermal flannel, muttering, “If she wasn’t actively making me a better person, you’d be a popsicle, Red.”

___

On the drive to Steve’s, Max pokes around in the dash and complains about the lack of Kate Bush before settling on a Fleetwood Mac tape and shoving it into the deck. 

Stevie Nicks croons Rihannon over the speakers, and Eddie thinks maybe he’ll get a few minutes of peace and quiet but no such luck. He’s making a slow turn onto the main road when Max asks, “What’s this?”

Eddie fights the urge to snatch the crushed velvet jewelry box out of Max’s mittened grasp and stares resolutely at the road. “I’m trying not to spin out and kill us in a fiery wreck, kid, would ya put that back where you found it?”

She bumps the dash compartment closed with her knee. “Someone’s testy today. Is it for Poppy?”

“Yes,” Eddie grits out, white-knuckling the wheel. “Christ, Max, you’re like the annoying little sister I never asked for. Would you put it-”

There’s a quiet snick as Max ignores him and opens the box. “C’mon, don’t you want a lady’s opinion?”

“Lady, my ass,” Eddie mutters. It’s pretty quiet in the passenger seat area all of a sudden, and he forces his gaze to stay safely on the snowy road as he asks, “Well?”

“Cute,” Max muses. She lifts the delicate chain from the box, the charm at the end swinging like a pendulum with the movement of the van. “A little on the nose, though, don’tcha think?”

Eddie was afraid of that. But when he saw the tiny poppy in perfect cast silver at a jewelry store on his big city excursion last month, he couldn’t help it. His girl makes him all sorts of mushy.

“Put it back,” he tells Max again, the fight going out of his voice, and she complies, this time, reaching out to pat his shoulder after reassembling the box.

“Don’t worry. Girls go crazy for that cheesy shit. Especially if they’re in love,” she says, sagely, gloved fingers absently playing with the gold heart locket around her own neck. 

“Uh huh,” Eddie says, with a pointed grin aimed sideways at the girl.

“Shut up.” Max flushes beet red, then reaches for the volume dial and cranks Stevie up to ten.

___

The Harrington house is a flurry of activity, apparently chosen as the main hub for the Gang and their various extensions. Mrs. Byers chirrups a hello as he passes the kitchen, Nancy waving a wooden spoon in greeting. There’s a cheer from the group of boys in various states of sprawl over a board game on the living room floor when Eddie clomps in, Max practically shoulder-checking him on her way to Lucas’s side. 

If anything, this party will be a welcome distraction from the silence that is his trailer without you. Eddie figures he’ll hang around for a bit, help eat up some of Harrington’s fancy holiday food, and dip into his weed reserves (that lacy tanktop of yours on his mind) before the bell tolls six.

After giving a dorky salute to his Hellfire kiddos, Eddie drops into the last available couch cushion: next to Argyle (silk black hair adorned with a pair of reindeer antlers), who turns sleepily and gives him a weed-laced lazy smile. 

“Heyyyy, brochacho. Where’s your girl? I still owe her some cold hard cash money for those morels,” Argyle says.

“She isn’t here.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe this party won’t be a good distraction after all, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wanna keep bringing you up anyways. “What the hell are morels?”

“Mushrooms!” Jonathan pipes up from the end of the couch. Judging by the red eyes, he’s just as gone as Argyle. 

Eddie isn’t judging. Christmas is hell without the help of weed and pretty girls.

“Yeah, dude, mushrooms.” Argyle slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, talking over the raucous noise of the kids engaged in a tense game of Monopoly a few feet away. “She’s a wicked good forager. Better than my mushroom guy back in Cali by a loooong shot.”

“Morels are the ones that look like brains,” Jonathan says, focused on his attempt at a house made of paper money on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Brains,” Argyle confirms. This seems to set Jon off in a fit of giggles, and then Argyle starts up, snickering into his closed fist, and the sight is almost enough to get Eddie to crack a smile when Steve Harrington appears in the archway.

“Uh oh,” Jonathan says, practically spasmodic at this point, “His hands are on his hips. That means he’s pissed about something.”

“Would you chuckleheads knock it off?” Steve snaps, hands still set on his hips in prissy little fists when he rounds on Eddie. “And seriously, man, you couldn’t’ve waited until the afterparty to get them stoned?”

“What, you think I did this?” Eddie gasps in faux shock. “I’m real hurt, Stevie, that you think these fine established gentlemen would need my help in getting their hands on good kush.”

This sets the boys on the couch off into conniptions again, this time Dustin barking at them to “Keep it down, assholes, we’re getting cutthroat over here,” and Nancy calls out “Language!” from the kitchen, which has Mike yelling back at her, and Eddie is just starting to enjoy himself when Steve whips the towel previously over his broad shoulder at Eddie’s face.

“If you’re done wreaking havoc here there’s someone on the landline for you,” Steve says, bending down to wipe crumbs from the coffee table.

That wipes the smirk off Eddie’s face. He sits up ramrod straight. “Who?”

“Who do you think?” Steve shoots back, and then shouts at the board game group, “ALL right, which one of you little shits spilled orange soda on the rug?”

There’s a return yell of “LANGUAGE” from the kitchen as Eddie hustles down the hall, the noise of the party fading as he reaches the mounted wall phone. He nearly pulls the cord from its socket in his haste to get the receiver to his ear- “Shit- hello?”

“Hi, Eddie.” 

Eddie sags against the wall, letting his head tip back, eyes closed all the better to savor your voice- “Sweetheart. Thank god. I was dyin’ out here. Say my name again, would ya?”

“Eddie,” you laugh, and it’s chiding, but he doesn’t care, too flush with relief at hearing from you.

“How’s this nightmare of a holiday treatin’ my girl, hm?” he asks, settling the phone into the crook of his shoulder. If he had it his way, there’d be technology to laserbeam your voice permanently into his eardrums. 

“It’s okay,” you sigh down the line. “I tried calling you at the trailer first, then when it kept ringing I figured you were at Steve’s party.”

“Yeah, honey, I’m at Steve’s. You want me to come pick you up?” Eddie brightens at the idea, warming up to it the more he talks. “I mean, I’d keep you all to myself, but it’s Christmas and I’m feeling generous. All anyone’s asked about so far is where the hell my girl is at.”

“That’s sweet,” you reply, and Eddie thinks you sound a little distant, a little… off, somehow. “No, that’s okay. I’m not in a partying mood. I just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”

“Well you have it, sugar,” Eddie purrs. “You want me to read to you? There’s a real slick copy of the phone book hangin’ right next to me. Could really get you going.”

Eddie’s only partly joking. He’d happily read the yellow pages to you until his voice gave out if it meant keeping you on the line for a little longer.

He can picture you so clearly in his head- sitting pretty in that bay window, sock feet tucked under your thighs, twirling the phone cord around your fingers in anxious little twists as you speak softly- “That’s okay, Eds. You enjoy the party, okay? I’ll come by the trailer tomorrow morning with your gift.”

“Sure,” he replies, a little deflated. 

After saying his goodbyes, he hangs the phone back on the hook and returns to his spot on the couch, leg bouncing a frenzied beat amid the chaos.

He lasts about three minutes like this, which he feels is more than generous.

As he’s sliding his arms back into his green fleeced flannel, there are a few jeers from the peanut gallery about how “Eddie’s going to suck some face with his girlfriend”, which earns the room a halfhearted and generalized middle finger. 

Mrs. Byers stops him in the hallway, but it’s just to hand him two cling-wrapped plates of food with a warm, knowing sort of look about her.

And then Eddie’s off into the night to see his girl. 

___

okay hoped you like it gonna post pt. 2 soon follow if u wanna see when it comes out!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie Munson x greenwitch!reader #eddie Munson x witch!reader #eddie Munson #stranger things #eddie Munson fic #eddie munson x you #max mayfield

[tickledpink31]

What I said: “If I were to make a LMK oc, I was thinking that maybe should make a character with a butterfly motif.”

What I actually mean: Make an Encanto x LMK crossover or at least make a Mirabel inspired oc. But for now have an Encanto x LMK crossover because I think they should hang out.

Bruno goes back inside the walls to do dress rehearsals for his rat telenovelas in private, but he forgets that there are now two nosy mfs in Casita with really good hearing. (Macaque would love Bruno’s rat telenovelas. You can’t change my mind.)

Sandy enjoys being able to understand how much Mo loves him through Antonio’s gift.

Julieta and Pigsy trade recipes. Julieta picks up hand-pulled noodles like a pro because of course she does, but Pigsy is apprehensive on the method flipping arepas with his bare hands… hooves… like he saw Julieta do.

Muscular softies (Sandy’s so hard to draw 🥲)

Camilo and MK have a shapeshifting competition, but Camilo gets humbled real quick by the Monkey King.

I wanted to make another drawing of Mirabel embroidering a dragon on a jacket for Mei, but I’m too tired.

#my art #encanto #lego monkie kid #lmk #encanto x lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #julieta madrigal #antonio madrigal #lmk sandy #lmk pigsy #luisa madrigal #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #bruno madrigal

[sai-lec]

hi i’m salty i like fashion so i want to talk about the ferrari suit painting endeavour courtesy of @ joshuavides ig story

it’s not gonna be detailed or anything just a general overview but alr let’s get started

so i rlly love the idea of letting the guys design their own race suits they took two rather opposing approaches to the design of their suits providing an insight to their perspective on their personal aestheticism, branding and mandated media activity

so let’s start w Carlos . For someone who isn’t actively involved in fashion design or marketing this is impressive . like it sent me down a rabbit hole of trying to figure out carlos’ involvement in his merch design process but dead ends if anyone has anything on that lmk .

carlos’ design is centred on his branding it’s something he would wear during a race to represent not only himself personally through the chilli motif but his career and his achievement as CS55 .

the placement of the logo is phenomenal . ik it’s just a copy of the diagonal placement of all his merch but this could’ve easily been something that stretched simply across the bodice portion. carlos’ design made good use of the space whilst keeping the design simple and recognisable not to mention how challenging it is to maintain freehand lines across separations in the fabric like

i’ve tried my best to apply some guidelines on top of the suit (with a grain of salt- photo perspective and wearability will change line placements) but the precision particularly is super impressive considering i don’t believe he’s painted on fabric before and is doing so without any straight line edge for guidance .

although it’s just a result of no practise the messiness of the painting works with the design it’s refined enough to be recognisable but the imperfection brings through a sense of modern high fashion reminiscent of the haute mess situation in 2022 or mimicking the street art aesthetic not unlike the imperfect perfection of vivienne Westwood . it’s just a good well executed garment i think encapsulating who he is a driver

charles on the other hand is a lot more emotionally driven. the front of the garment seems to be more inclined to imagery that is personal to charles

the spelling of his name separates him from CL16 he’s charles, it’s more personal closer to who he is rather than his brand with his number included to allude to the importance of racing in his life - and also to keep it relevant to the task at hand which was centred around ferrari.

i’ve been seeing a lot of criticism of on this striped section of charles suit but yall just don’t get it . this is his country man . this is his way or representing his country his identity as a monegasque person is dear to him this is his national pride manifested on his uniform . the front is what charles wants people to perceive of him what he fundamentally wants to represent and who he is in his career

as for the back

this is art . it absolutely is . it’s entirely up to the viewers discretion what that art is. the art could be the wearer. it couldn’t be the sport . the race. it could be none of that and just be a funny attempt at trying to justify the decision on the front of the garment . or as the strategic placement would suggest, it could be his ass that’s the art.

i do love this though it’s giving rich its giving runway . it’s giving designer . i’m telling you keep an eye on louis vuitton and vivienne westwood this kind of mildly thought provoking vaguely political commentary handwritten aesthetic dominates modern ready to wear high end fashion. this is the kind of thing you’d see an instgram model take some gorgeous aesthetically pleasing photos in before it ends up in someone’s rebellious girl aesthetic pinterest board . and it’s a serve .

generally i do really love the idea behind this whole task tho it’s fun and expressive and i love the callback to the marlboro day with the red and white suit aesthetic of the 80s and the last vegas grand prix at the caesar’s palace track in 1982 it’s truly iconic and i hope we get to see the boys in their creations

#charles leclerc #carlos sainz #formula 1 #scuderia ferrari

[dravikso]

Clairvoyance in Bygone Wisdoms (OC)

I was going to share my more normal iterator OCs first but I haven’t finished drawing them, meanwhile this has been sitting around for a while, so you’re getting my most canon non-compliant asshole lizard iterator first sorry lmao Their (uses any pronouns) name is Clairvoyance in Bygone Wisdoms, if you want more info it’s below the cut (which is below the image description)

[Image ID: Facing left, an iterator with a lizard-like design that has four arms and two legs, each with three fingers tipped with metallic gold claws. The pads of its feet and hands are vibrant red and yellow. Its body is primarily navy blue with a cyan underbelly which extends to its jaw and down its long tail, where it transitions into vibrant red and yellow before flaring out into a ribbon-like black fin with wavy metallic gold patterns. This motif is also seen on its crest, which is attached to a large red, yellow, and blue forehead horn before extending, decreasing in size, down to the base of its moderate-length neck. It has a long snout tipped in yellow and red, with two nostrils and three round black eyes on each side of its head, and long golden antennae styled as horns. It has long whiskers which extend from its chin and back of its jaw. Starting from its forehead to halfway down its tail, it has wavy glowing yellow stripes. It has a metallic arm and wires connected to its back. End Description]

So let’s start with why they look like That; CiBW is a later generation iterator, the first to be constructed in a previously low-priority area (due to difficult terrain) which was only utilised as space began to run out. Both her name and puppet’s design follow the idea of looking for a novel solution stemming from a lens of tradition, a view which became somewhat more prevalent as a fatigue from no solution being found set in. The puppet is designed around a creature from mythology local to the area where he was built which would purportedly grant ascension to those who had broken their five natural urges, as well as an additional sixth criterion chosen by the creature; failing to meet these requirements would condemn you to the great cycle forever. The puppet’s colouration is a combination of the original mythological beast’s rich colours as well as the known visual properties of void fluid, an artistic representation of CiBW’s name and goal. The puppet is partly biological, but primarily mechanical. The former is limited to a small amount of musculature, skin, adipose, and their eyes (this being an artistic decision taken by the Ancients so that CiBW could ‘see the world as they do’ such that it may metaphorically inform their work rather than any functional purpose). Light entry into these eyes is controlled by external sphincters rather than internal irises. The nostrils are for show only. Everything required by the organic parts of the puppet is provided via a tube attached to their puppet (alongside their arm and umbilical), those required metabolites produced by specialised bacteria.

They are very conservative when it comes to their purpose and goal, something which has caused tensions between her and the youngest iterator in the small group (which has only four iterators). CiBW perceives finding the Great Solution as their ultimate moral duty and will do whatever it takes to ensure that goal is being pursued to the greatest extent possible by himself and fellow iterators, utilising whatever measures may be required to achieve that (including less-than-ethical ones). There’s more I could write but I think I’ll leave it off there because I’ve been procrastinating while typing up this post, lmk via reblogs/asks/etc if you have any further things you want to know

#sorry the allure of dragonlike things is too strong #rain world #iterator rw #iterator oc #clairvoyance in bygone wisdoms #image id #image id in description #my art #art #Fanart #digital art

[ponyocstims]

Blinding Vision stimboard for @m3-mianbo!

✨/✨/✨ 💫/💫/💫 ✨/✨/✨

#stim #stimboard #mlp #mlp oc #mlp fim #mlp:fim #gif #irl hands #fast gif #food #long nails #you didn't specify any specific stims so I went off of blinding's magic motifs & colors! #lmk if you want me to change anything though! :D #I love this oc btw...

[taelme]

don't you dream impossible things?

genre: high school!au, coming-of-age!au, childhood best friends-to-lovers!au, basketball captain!jaehyun (fluff, mild angst, kind of mutual pining?, jaehyun has a girlfriend for a solid portion of the fic) pairing/s: Jaehyun / Reader, Jaehyun / OC(Rina) (ft Sicheng, Johnny & Ten) word count: 27k tw: mild coarse language, mentions of sexual activity, suggestive language?? idk... lmk if I missed out anything... Jaehyun's gf is a bit manipulative a/n: this was inspired by the little discourse on my blog about what Taylor Swift songs you guys (and me) associated with different nct members! with that being said, this was more or less based off of 'you belong with me'~ (as well as starlight and you are in love!) happy reading~~ also! the interchanged(?) use of jaehyun and Yoonoh is intentional! read on ao3

Senior year. Just a three-pointer away from college, as his uncle liked to say (whatever that meant). But unfortunately for Jaehyun, nowhere closer to where he felt like he needed to be. 

“Jay! How was the game yesterday, dear?” 

Your head snapped up from your textbook at the sound of his nickname, angling your body where you sat so you could get a better look at Jaehyun who was sitting next to Sicheng at the back of the room. 

Jaehyun, whose hair was neatly messy as it fell slightly below his eyebrows after he ran a hand through it, whose school blazer was hung (almost like a permanent fixture) on the back of his chair, top button of his school shirt undone and one arm resting on the table so he could fiddle with his tie while the other hand twirled his pen above his textbook. 

And Sicheng, his closest friend (well, other than you). He’d recently chopped his hair short as an impulse decision to want to look as cool as someone he saw in a K-drama, but even so, he managed to pull it off. His shirt was perfectly pressed and so was his tie, but you could laugh at the way the telltale red and blue motif of his training shirt was peeking out from the sleeves of his uniform. 

Sicheng’s face was priceless, annoyance written in the way his eyebrows furrowed. 

Turning his head, he sighed, “Here we go again.”

Jaehyun let out a huff of laughter, “At least she’s not asking you.” 

Ignoring Sicheng’s bitter follow-up of, “It’s our senior year and she still has no idea I’m on the team,” Jaehyun directed his gaze to the front of the class. 

Keeping his gaze fixed on your teacher, Jaehyun shrugged, fixing a polite smile on his face. 

“It was good, Miss. We won.” 

Clasping her hands together in delight, she cheered, looking upon Jaehyun with eyes filled with the kind of unspoken bias kids like Jaehyun were always subjected to. 

“That’s wonderful! I’m sure you played wonderfully as always. Am I right, Sicheng? I’m sure you’d managed to watch the game yesterday, practically the whole school was.” 

You watched in amusement as Jaehyun's ears had grown red, Sicheng rolling his eyes and flipping to a random page of his textbook, muttering bitterly under his breath as Jaehyun fought a chuckle from his teammate’s annoyance. 

“It’s a wonder how you manage to juggle your grades and basketball so effortlessly,” the woman spoke again, making her way over to Jaehyun’s desk as she personally handed him his marked assignment (again, a privilege only Jaehyun got. You were much busier at your desk flipping through the stack that got passed to you trying to find your own name amidst all the red markings). 

“You did wonderfully on this assignment, dear. Good job.” 

Jaehyun could feel it even stronger now, the stares from the other students in the class, even some murmurs of ‘of course’ coming from behind him. 

He worked hard on that assignment (and got a lot more help from you than he was proud to admit), so it was natural that he would’ve expected himself to do well. He shouldn’t have had to feel embarrassed for something like that. 

So he pressed his lips together in a tight smile, trying to suppress his discomfort under the many stares of his classmates. Shoving the paper in between a random page of his textbook, he let his gaze briefly flicker to where you were seated, an embarrassed smile making its way on his face, dimples showing cutely when you clapped silently for him with a knowing look on your face. 

Shaking his head at you, trying to dismiss the way he felt his ears grow even hotter, he turned back to his textbook, eyes glazing over as he entertained his thoughts. 

He had basketball practice after school, and that would probably run till about five. Sure, he was excited to train, but he wasn’t that excited to be training in the same gym where the cheerleaders would be practicing too. 

“Lucky you, you get to see your girlfriend later,” Ten would sigh during lunch when the topic of practice came up. 

Shouldn’t he be excited? It was his girlfriend, after all… but Jaehyun just couldn’t shake the feeling of unsettling discomfort from within him after the dream he had the night before. 

It wasn’t a big deal, really. He had a dream that his girlfriend Rina wasn’t happy about his friendship with you and they fought. But that was it, wasn’t it? 

Jaehyun was momentarily pulled from his thoughts when the juniors walking past his table had smiled at him, shyly murmuring hello when they met his glazed over gaze. 

“You played so well at last weekend’s game, Jay!” they praised, “Yeah! You did so well!” 

Jaehyun mustered a small smile and nod. He was thankful, of course, just… not really in the mood for celebrating (or anything, for that matter). 

You would’ve known what to do or say to cheer him up, but like every other day this season, you weren’t having lunch with Jaehyun. Instead, you were at the library getting some studying done. But he was starting to wish you were, at least then he could be sure that they would be talking about something much more interesting than basketball practice. 

Smiling politely at another girl who had caught his eye and smiled shyly at him, Jaehyun turned back to face his food with a sigh. 

Was he really that lucky? To be under the gaze of so many other people who were hanging onto every little bit of interaction he had with the head cheerleader to determine whether their relationship was going smoothly. To have everyone hanging on his every word just so they could get a longer glimpse into Jaehyun’s private life. 

Jaehyun didn’t think so. 

But as always, he would just force out a smile, shrug and reply with a simple, “I guess I am.” 

Only when he was at the gym did he realise just how long the day was going to be. 

It hadn’t been five minutes since he’d started doing warm-ups when he heard the telltale drawl of his girlfriend from the other side of the sports hall. 

It was as if his mind was such a mess that he had to work extra hard to compartmentalise just so he could focus. As if he were sifting through the files in the inventory of his head. 

Grades, no. Basketball, yes. Practice was going to start. Girlfriend? 

Turning his head to cast her a glance, he saw her flash him her sickly sweet smile, waving happily at him.

“Have a good practice, baby!” she called out. 

Low teasing hums and murmurs had erupted amongst Jaehyun’s teammates, even his coach couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of it all, but Jaehyun turned back around almost immediately, ears flushing red and embarrassed out of his mind. She didn’t usually call him ‘baby’. 

Letting out a small sigh, Jaehyun turned back to Sicheng, who was eyeing him curiously as he helped Jaehyun with his stretching, feet spread out and pressed against Jaehyun’s as they took turns pulling each other by the hands. 

“What? Not gonna wish your ‘baby’ a good practice too?” Sicheng teased. 

Jaehyun had simply rolled his eyes, glancing around to make sure his other teammates weren’t in earshot. 

“I don’t call her that,” he finally said. He should’ve known that wouldn’t be enough to get Sicheng off his back.  

He didn’t know how to explain to Sicheng that he was still feeling unsettled by his dream. Sicheng would’ve said he was reading too deeply into it. But Jaehyun couldn’t help it, it felt real enough that the feelings of frustration and resignation had lingered with him throughout the day. 

“Why not?” Sicheng feigned shock, a gasp leaving him as he giggled. 

They were interrupted by one of Jaehyun’s teammates who’d let out a low whistle, slapping Jaehyun on the back, “Lucky you, dude.” 

Jaehyun, as always, mustered a sweet smile, nodding to his teammate and letting them walk away before he returned to stretching with Sicheng. 

“Not your baby? Is she your angel, then? Sweetie? Love?” Sicheng teased, a knowing look in his eyes. 

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, ignoring the way he was tempted to think of just who his brain had compartmentalised under ‘angel’.

Jaehyun huffed, shaking his head so his hair would get out of his eyes, “I don’t know, I always just call her by her name. She’s not my baby, or any of those other names you said, anyway.” 

“Oh, but she very much is. Or at least, that’s what you guys have the whole school believing,” Sicheng shrugged. 

Letting go of his hands and pushing himself up so he was kneeling, Sicheng shoved Jaehyun’s chest, a silent gesture for him to lie down so they could continue stretching. 

Bringing one of his legs up off the floor, Sicheng helped to push Jaehyun’s leg back in a stretch, a mischievous smile on his face as the boy below him winced from a particularly hard push. 

“You enjoy this too much,” Jaehyun glared at him. 

Sicheng raised his eyebrows, grinning, “Stretching? Yeah. Love it.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

Switching legs, Jaehyun let out a deep sigh, focusing his gaze onto the ceiling, the sound of the cheerleaders talking echoing into his ears like white noise. 

“I wish I didn’t, it’d be a lot more fun that way. Are you guys gonna get dinner after this?” 

Jaehyun shook his head. 

“Nah, she has a tutoring session.” 

Sicheng snorted, his expression turning sheepish just for a moment before his features pulled into a frown, “Sorry, no hate or anything but… she tutors?” 

Jaehyun shook his head, almost letting a laugh slip from him. It was true, his girlfriend wasn’t the most… charitable person. Charitable, not really, but ambitious? Definitely. 

“It’s for her college apps.” 

Sicheng let out an understanding hum, “That makes more sense.” 

Jaehyun barely realised he was done with his set of stretches, only registering it when Sicheng had happily laid down on the floor and closed his eyes as if he were about to get a massage. 

Getting up off the floor with a grunt, Jaehyun lifted Sicheng’s leg and helped him stretch, at this point unsurprised at the ease with which his leg could be pushed towards his chest. 

“It’s our six month anniversary soon,” Jaehyun added casually. 

“Already?” 

“Would you at least try not to act so surprised?” Jaehyun laughed, shaking his head at Sicheng, “And yeah, it’s three weeks from now.” 

“I mean, honestly, you gotta let me be a little impressed. I never expected you guys to get along with each other, much less actually like each other.” 

Jaehyun sighed, he knew that too. It was a shame Sicheng made sense, it made it harder to defend himself. 

“I know, but… you guys were the ones that were saying we’d be a good match, right?” Jaehyun sighed, the lack of response from Sicheng making him feel as though he had to do a better job of defending his girlfriend. 

“Good match,” Sicheng snickered, “What? You think the team said that ‘cause she’s a gemini? Cause her ‘life trajectory’ lines up with yours? You know better than anyone that the basketball team thinks with their dick—”

“Whatever. Anyway, she’s not that bad,” Jaehyun murmured, the uncertainty in his tone making Sicheng shoot him a pointed look, propping himself up on his elbows as Jaehyun let go of his leg. 

“I’d believe you if you sounded more convinced of yourself.”

Jaehyun sighed, letting Sicheng move into the next stretch, the boy’s hair flopping sideways as he angled his head to the left. 

“She just… Rina just has a different way of showing her love,” he shrugged. 

Jaehyun wasn’t sure whether he really believed that. But he figured it was always a benefit of the doubt thing. You know, if his friends (and everyone else in the school it seemed) thought they both were a good fit, there must’ve been some sound reasoning behind that conclusion, right? 

“Different,” Sicheng echoed, earning an eye roll from Jaehyun. 

“Leave her alone, she's trying her best. Seriously, who the hell even knows where their ‘life trajectory’ is headed towards in high school.” he waved Sicheng off, standing up and fixing his Jersey. 

Sicheng bit his tongue, though he really wanted to push for the agenda that they had very different wants and needs (and priorities and goals, for that matter), he figured he should respect his friend’s decision nonetheless, even if it was a stupid decision in his opinion. 

Or, at least, that was what Sicheng was trying to tell himself so he could stand watching his best friend continue to try to save a sinking relationship. 

Sicheng decided on keeping his mouth shut, pressing his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows and sighing. 

Dismissing the thoughts that had started to brew in his head at the thought of his girlfriend, Jaehyun worked on keeping these thoughts at bay. 

Standing up, the coach had called the team into a pre-practice huddle of sorts, keeping his gaze trained on Jaehyun almost the entire time. 

“We’re almost in competition season, boys. We did well for the last game but I don’t want any of you to get too cocky that you start forgetting that it’s the sport you should be caring about and not your own asses.” 

Sicheng’s eyebrows furrowed, “that did not make any sense in my head.” 

“That means you, Win,” their coach added, earning a disgruntled sound from Sicheng. 

“Huh?”

“I meant what I said at the last game. Take this as an example, boys. Number seven over here couldn’t keep his choice words off the court. So, he’s benched for the season. It’ll teach you some sportsmanship.” 

Sicheng scoffed, “I have sportsmanship,” he muttered indignantly. 

Jaehyun couldn’t help the amusement from showing up on his features. 

“Fine, anger management, then,” Coach corrected with a sarcastic smile. 

Sicheng took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. 

“I have a few choice words for him,” Sicheng muttered low enough for only Jaehyun to hear. 

Luckily for him, his little comment went unheard by the coach, who continued his little pep-talk. Dismissing the team shortly after to split up into their usual training groups, the coach made his way over to Jaehyun. 

“Jay, you’re in your best condition right now, so I really need you to keep up the momentum you got going on. This team needs their leader to bring us to the gold.” 

Jaehyun nodded, a soft sigh leaving his lips, nodding at his coach. He didn’t mind as much, he liked basketball. 

“There’s gonna be scouts at these games, I'm telling you. And they’re gonna want you. So show them what you got.” 

“Got it, coach,” Jaehyun nodded firmly. 

His coach let out an abrupt burst of laughter, glancing over at the cheerleaders running their routine. 

“You know, son, you kind of remind me of myself, back in the day… I was just like you. Dating the head cheerleader, basketball scholarship on my mind… you’ve got everything going for you, Jay... I wouldn’t give that up if I were you.” 

Jaehyun nodded, letting his coach walk away as he mulled over his words. This part… maybe he did mind it a little bit.

Grades, basketball, popularity. All these things seemed to be falling into place. Girlfriend? He couldn’t seem to remove the question mark that lingered behind that particular category. 

He glanced over at the cheerleaders, spotting Rina getting tossed upwards in their complicated looking formation. 

Maybe he should ignore Sicheng’s attitude and try to think about things he liked about Rina. Yeah, maybe that would help. 

He guessed he liked how she always spoke her mind, how she wasn’t afraid to tell him how she felt, what she liked and what she didn’t like. How she carried herself so confidently, as if she was here for one thing and she already knew exactly how to get it. 

Their relationship made sense, to some extent. It was almost… expected. Rina was pretty admired in school, he knew that—lots of people wished they would have the privilege of catching her eye. He couldn’t say it was hard to understand, she was everyone’s idea of a conventionally beautiful girl. 

Her attention was almost like a prize to be won. 

But Jaehyun just never thought it was his place to fight for it, you know, if they were in a relationship, he wanted to be able to trust her and be honest with her even if everyone else (mainly his parents and Sicheng) was telling him not to.

There was just one little factor that was preventing him from doing that, something that clouded his senses every time he let his mind go quiet. 

===

Feeling the paper of the book page you were on between your thumb and index finger, your eyes scanned the rest of the words quickly before flipping the page, the ping of your phone distracting you momentarily. 

It was a text from Yoonoh. 

yoonoh  1:33am - coming over, u better not be reading - 

The smile on your face came naturally, rolling your eyes at the text. 

1:33am - im trying to Relax~ over here - 

yoonoh 1:33am - u can relax when im gone -

1:34am - ok so go away -  1:34am - im kidding, just don’t be noisy my parents are sleeping -

It was only a matter of time when you saw the door to your treehouse open, wondering what was the cause of Yoonoh’s pensive look that only disappeared when he met your gaze, replaced with a smile almost immediately. 

There was a certain flush to his cheeks and neck, his hair messy and sticking to his forehead slightly, a sheen of sweat on his neck. He looked as though he’d just finished a training session. 

“Did you run here?” you laughed, not being able to hear yourself with the music playing in your headphones. 

Yoonoh huffed, dropping his things with a loud thud on the small rug in the treehouse, making his way over to you and peering over to see what you were reading with a playful hint to his gaze.

Murmuring the words under his breath as he read them upside down, he let out a disappointed huff. 

“Lame, thought you were reading something exciting,” he teased, flopping down onto the floor next to you, rolling over so he was lying on his belly, his eyes scanning over the page of your book even though he wasn’t really reading, his eyes hurt too much. 

“Even if I was, it’s not like you’d read it. The last time you read a book for fun was like four years ago,” you told him pointedly, almost being able to picture the beat up copy of ‘The Little Prince’ that was an almost permanent fixture in his bedside drawer. 

Yoonoh laughed, “Why bother when I could just hear about it from you?” 

Turning to look at him, you noticed the way the collar of his black shirt had fallen slightly, exposing the rather freshlyforming bruises that were littered on the skin over his collarbones and at the base of his neck. 

Okay, well, that explained his appearance a little better. 

Heat flushed through your chest, up your neck and to your face, averting your gaze quickly and putting your book down. 

Why would he come here if he just did… that?

“Were you at Rina’s before this?” You dared to ask, the huff that let his lips at the mention of his girlfriend’s name speaking volumes.

“Yeah,” his reply was curt, a certain kind of frustration laced in his tone. 

“What are you listening to?” he changed the topic, not bothering to wait for your reply before he rolled over onto his back, reaching up to remove the headphones from your head, yanking the wire out of your computer from his harsh action and interrupting the chorus of hey stephen that was currently playing.

Putting on your headphones, Yoonoh didn’t need long to recognise the song that was playing (and wasn’t even playing through the headphones), his smile widening as his dimples deepened, his eyes forming crescents as a poorly stifled laugh escaped him. 

“Are you… in love?” 

You rolled your eyes, not being able to help your own laugh when he shut his eyes, moving his hands and nodding his head as he danced to the song as he lay on his back, his lips mouthing the lyrics perfectly even though you knew Yoonoh’s music taste didn’t usually consist of Taylor Swift. 

“I can’t help it if you look like an angel,” he sang softly, opening his eyes to look at you as he continued to sing along. 

You couldn’t have been prepared for the feeling the sight of Yoonoh like this gave you, the chorus stirring something within you as you looked at Yoonoh whose gaze was expectant, his grin contrasting how he was really feeling just minutes before he arrived at your house. 

Were you in love? 

“I wish,” you lied, removing the headphones from Yoonoh’s head as he sighed. 

“Indeed,” he spoke with exaggerated seriousness to his tone, “And I was just kidding, I know your playlist literally only has like one artist in it…thinking about it, maybe that’s why you like her songs so much. It’s like listening to an audio book with a better melody.” 

You shot him a look. His rambling had always been a sign that he was trying to distract himself. It’d just always been like that with Yoonoh, and as always, you entertained his rambling. 

“Did you come here just to analyse my music taste?” you scoffed, making him wave you off in dismissal. 

“Or maybe it's because of that thing where love songs don’t feel so shitty when you listen to them when you’re actually in love…” he continued, ignoring the knowing look on your face. He knew he didn’t have a chance of lying if he met your gaze. 

You laughed, “You’re speaking from experience?” 

Yoonoh’s rambling halted almost instantly. 

That was correct, Yoonoh was in a relationship. In a relationship with the prettiest and most popular girl in school. The prettiest and most popular girl whose house he’d just come from. Or more accurately, the house he just got kicked out of. 

Yoonoh should’ve known you would see right through him, especially since he wasn’t really trying to hide it. Maybe it was because he knew you wouldn’t hold it against him. 

“What happened?” you mentally prepared yourself for his answer. 

Yoonoh ignored your question, “Can you pass me a tissue and my glasses?” 

You frowned, your concern for Jaehyun taking precedence over your curiosity. 

“Don’t think you can run away from the question. But what’s wrong with your eyes? Are your contacts bothering you?” 

Yoonoh nodded, blinking harshly and hissing, “I’m fine, I think I just wore them for too long.”��

Rina liked how he looked more when he didn’t wear his glasses. 

Propping himself on his elbows, he reached over your lap to grab his bag from behind you, fishing in the front pocket and pulling out a small bottle of eye-drops. 

Removing his contacts, he blinked a few times as he looked at you, letting his eyes adjust. 

“Can you help me?” The smile he gave you was cheeky, with only a hint of sheepishness, but it wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t like you were going to say no. 

“Give it,” you held your hand out, rolling your eyes when you felt Jaehyun rest his head on your thigh, his hands fiddling with his glasses absently. 

If he saw himself, it probably would’ve reminded him of Sicheng during warm-ups. 

You helped him to apply the solution, seeing him close his eyes. A little drop of the solution escaped his eyes and rolled down his temple, your hand moving instinctively to wipe it away with the pad of your fingertip. 

Just as you were about to ask him what happened again, he opened his eyes, dimples appearing again as he gave you a tired smile, his eyes redder than they were before. 

Putting on his glasses, Yoonoh enjoyed the way your features came into focus, the way the warm light from the lamp beside you was casting a nice glow on you, the colour of your eyes looking more pronounced. 

Grades. Basketball. Girlfriend? Angel. 

As if he’d saved the image of how you looked into the imaginary file in his head, he smiled.

Pretty. 

“Thanks, Angel.” 

You felt as though you stopped breathing. 

You were in love, alright. Horribly. 

Shoving Yoonoh’s head off your lap and hearing the thump and the yelp of pain that left him, you took that opportunity to compose yourself. Shifting your position so you were leaning against the sofa, you glared at each other. 

You did your best to feign menace at him, knowing very well when and why he’d started calling you that. You’d wanted so badly to be the Angel Gabriel in your elementary school’s nativity play production, but you’d gotten cast as an innkeeper instead. With the fake moustache drawn on with eyeliner and all. 

Yoonoh, of course, had nabbed the role of Joseph. You could still picture the chubby faced, dimpled cheeked boy dressed in gowns too big for him and waving around a staff that was a lot taller than him as everyone gushed to take photos with him. Meanwhile, nobody cared to remember your name. You were just innkeeper number 2. You weren’t even the innkeeper that would let Joseph and Mary in. 

You know for a fact that if you rewatch the videos your parents had taken of the play, you’d definitely be able to hear Yoonoh’s snickers through the microphone during your lines (or line, for that matter). Afterwards, when you’d gotten angry at him for laughing, he’d insisted that you would always be the angel to him, pretending to be upset along with you as you spent the rest of the night in your treehouse cursing out your head teacher for her shitty casting until it was time for him to go home.

You guessed that was just how it’d always been for the both of you, which was why Yoonoh’s behaviour now was coming off as very very suspicious.

“Shut up, Yoonoh. There’s literally no normal reason for you to come to my place at this time of the night after you got freaky with your girlfriend unless something happened. Out with it,” you kept your gaze serious, triumphant when he finally sighed, rolling over so he was on his belly again, resting his head on his arm as he shot you a teasing smile. 

You and your family were the only ones that still called him Yoonoh instead of Jaehyun (and his grandma, of course). It was always something you figured was like a habit you couldn’t shake, after having called him that for as long as you could remember. Sometimes, it felt like Jaehyun was his nickname.

“So do you want me to shut up or talk?” 

Glaring at him, he held his free hand up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. I had a dream last night…” he started, wondering if he was going to change the subject again. Yoonoh’s dreams were always vivid (when he remembered them), and you were the only person that would ever entertain his detailed recounts. 

“Rina was in my dream… and we were fighting about—” he stopped himself. Should he filter his words? No, this was you he was talking to. 

“... we were arguing because I said something about having kids and she got mad at me I remember her showing me something on my phone and asking me about it and I was trying to explain it to her but it wouldn’t get through to her because she wasn’t listening… and I just got so frustrated and we were just yelling at each other.” 

You frowned, “Is that what’s been bothering you?” 

He rolled over, another sigh leaving him, nodding eventually. 

“That and… we actually fought just now… ” he murmured, letting out a deep sigh before continuing, “She got mad ‘cause of something I said.” 

“Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy,” you muttered, ignoring the unamused look he gave you. 

“Was it that bad? What did you say?” you winced. 

Yoonoh groaned, “It was really a lot of things we both said… just kind of snowballed and exploded,” he rolled over onto his back with a grunt, running his fingers through his hair in frustration before letting his hand fall limply on his stomach. 

“You know Johnny Seo?” he continued.

You frowned. 

“Johnny Seo...John—” your eyebrows furrowed, unsure why your voice dropped to a whisper (it wasn’t as if your parents could hear you anyway), “wait, the fuckboy? What does he have anything to do with this?” 

Yoonoh nodded, sitting up in his frustration, frowning as he found his words, nudging his glasses up with his knuckle. 

“Yeah, him. She’s been hanging out a lot with him recently, and I just told her I just wanted her to be careful, you know? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t exactly have the best intentions in their… ‘friendship’.” 

You sighed, bringing a hand up to run it through your hair, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. 

“So, you told her not to hang out with him?” 

Yoonoh grunted, shaking his head, “No, not at all. I mean, I respect her decision to hang out with him. After all, I don’t actually know him so I wouldn’t know if he’s actually fun to hang out with or whatever. But I don’t trust him… all I told her was that I think she should be careful.” 

Yoonoh shrugged. 

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just upset ‘cause it seems like she spends more time with him than she does with me these days. And even when we do hang out, all she wants to do is fuck and—” he stopped himself short, sighing. 

You hummed, “I don’t know, maybe…” you paused, racking your brain for a possible way for him to diffuse their fight. 

“It’s not ridiculous for me to be concerned, right? I mean… everyone knows him to be pretty… available… ” he trailed off, frown deepening. 

Your lips parted in shock, shaking your head slowly. 

“You don’t seriously think she’s…” 

“Fucking him?” His harsh tone made your eyes widen, “Well, I’d like to think she isn’t. She’s my girlfriend, after all.” 

You couldn’t help the deep sigh that left you. 

“What’s your plan, then?” you asked. 

It was saddening, the way Yoonoh had simply shrugged, shoulders slumping and his fingers picking at the unraveling thread of the rug he was seated on. 

“Our six month anniversary’s coming soon… maybe I’ll just do something special for her that day to make it up to her.” 

“You’re gonna have to talk to her before that, you know,” you gave him a pointed look, earning a half-hearted huff of laughter from him.

“I know, I will.” 

Yoonoh was like that, never one to give up on a relationship no matter how much it frustrated him. He didn’t believe in dating to break up over small quarrels. That was just how he was, even if Rina wasn’t. 

“Thanks for telling me, anyway,” you gave him a reassuring smile, “if there’s any way I can help, just… let me know.” 

Yoonoh nodded. 

“Honestly, you just listening to me is doing loads for me right now…” the look in his eyes was unreadable, heavy laden with an emotion you couldn’t place. 

There it was, the something, he realised once again as he looked at you. It was something that only heightened whenever he was around you, because you were the very cause of it. 

The problem that began without him even realising, when he was barely entering puberty and he was still the shy, soft spoken, chubby-cheeked boy that bonded with you over dream journals, all the books you read that he loved to hear about from you instead of actually read and all the sports he did that you loved to watch him play but never thought of trying yourself. The thing Yoonoh unfortunately realised only when he’d agreed to being set-up with Rina, in his search for love that would accept him for who he was. 

The problem that lingered even when everything seemed to be falling into place in his life, the reason why he didn’t quite feel like it was. Like he wasn’t exactly at the place where he needed to be. 

The problem, that he felt like he could only truly be himself around you. 

Grades, basketball, popularity, girlfriend…. 

The obvious classification for you in his head would be best friend, the angel folder. But he couldn’t shake the fact that it felt like something was missing. You were more than that, definitely, but he hasn’t found a label for it yet. 

You frowned, feeling as though you were a deer in the headlights with how he was looking at you. 

It wasn’t the first time, the look had adorned his face on multiple occasions, but each left you feeling confused. The way his lips would purse just slightly, how there would be a slight furrow to his eyebrow, as if he were intentionally holding back. 

It was as if he was hoping you would understand how he was feeling without him having to say it. It scared you, because what could Yoonoh- the boy who was always oversharing with you--possibly be feeling that he couldn’t bring himself to speak out loud?

“What kind of friend would I be if you had to hide yourself around me… right?” you murmured, averting your gaze as Yoonoh mustered a laugh, trying to ease the tension in the room that he knew you felt. 

“A shitty one?” he grinned. 

You rolled your eyes. He was clearly feeling better already.

“Did you have basketball practice today?” you asked, even though you knew the answer to that already. 

Yoonoh nodded, “Hell yeah, I did. Oh, by the way, are you gonna be at my games?”

His games. It was like he knew you only went for him. 

“I have a life outside you and your games, you know,” you shot him a look. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the sight of that same mischievous smile that had simply evolved over time. More beautiful, perhaps, more defined even, but all the same mischief of the ten year old boy that insisted he could play the piano and dribble his basketball at the same time. 

“Alright, see you there,” he stuck his tongue out at you for good measure, “things are gonna get a lot busier soon… coach hopes we can qualify for finals but Sicheng’s banking on a bronze at most.” 

“Why?” you frowned, shaking your head on second thought, “Nevermind, Sicheng’s always been like that.” 

Yoonoh had rolled over so he was lying on his side, supporting his head with his hand as a giggle had left him. 

“You would’ve died if you were at practice today, Sicheng was so funny. Coach said he’s benching him for cussing out our last opponents,” he spoke between his giggles (you could see how desperately he was trying to contain his laughter because your parents were right next door - or next house?), “said benching him would teach him anger management.”

You couldn’t help but shake your head, laughter escaping your lips, “Is that why he’s banking on a bronze?” 

Yoonoh nodded, scrunching his eyes shut, “He keeps saying the coach benched an ‘ace’.” 

Calming down from your laughter, you sighed, “I miss Sicheng… kinda wish he didn’t quit the library club.” 

“Didn’t get kicked out, you mean,” he corrected, a knowing smile on his face. You didn’t miss the snicker that Yoonoh let out, accompanied with the low murmur of, “my god… Library club.” 

You waved him off in dismissal, “Whatever, same thing. It was more fun when he was there.” 

Yoonoh’s eyebrows furrowed, amusement written in his gaze. 

“Fun? If you call watching him game the entire time ‘fun’.” 

You rolled your eyes. “As if you do anything better when you come to the library.” 

He fell silent at that, and you swore you saw his ears start to tint red, Yoonoh opening and closing his mouth before shaking his head. 

“Shut up,” he murmured. He knew very well his reasons behind meeting you in the library during your shifts just so he could sneak in undisturbed naps in your (comforting) presence. 

“Anyway, pretty sure he misses hanging out with you too… he’s always asking me about how you’re doing, it’s as if he’s your best friend.” 

You brought a hand to your chest, acting more moved than you actually were just to piss Yoonoh off. 

“Tell him I miss him too.” 

Yoonoh made a fake gagging sound, rolling over so he was on his belly again, “Stop flirting with Sicheng. Seriously, you guys could just text each other instead of using me as your messenger.”

“Why? Jealous?” you teased, and you barely noticed the way Yoonoh’s eyes widened, recovering smoothly as he scoffed. 

“I’m not an owl!” he did his best attempt at mimicking Hermoine Granger, making your laughter bubble out from you uncontrollably. 

“You’re totally jealous.” 

Yoonoh rolled his eyes in spite of the smile that lingered on his face. “I take it back, flirt all you want.” 

You grinned, reaching over to nudge his shoulder, Yoonoh taking your silent cue to make space so you could lie down next to him. 

“You don’t have to be jealous, I’m your best friend,” you sighed, letting your eyes wander as you looked at the few stars you could spot in the sky from the little window in your treehouse, “even if I flirt with Sicheng.” 

You heard him huff, a long silence ensuing. 

“Even if we go to different colleges?” 

You frowned, not expecting Yoonoh to have brought that up. College talk had been unheard of for the both of you, not even your parents had mentioned it during dinners yet. But you figured it was only a matter of time, you knew you and Yoonoh were thinking about it more than you both let on. 

A sour feeling weighed uncomfortably on your chest as you turned to look at him. You couldn’t help yourself, there was a certain sadness in your heart now, wondering what the next stage of your life after high school would be like. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, speaking without hesitation. 

“Even if we’re in different countries,” you muttered softly, as if you were correcting him, “Who knows what overseas study opportunities would open up in a year.” 

The look on Yoonoh’s face was all you needed to rid you of any regret from your words. The way his smile was gentle, blinking slowly as he let out a long sigh. 

“I wonder what kind of people we’ll be in a few years, like… let’s say five years ” he thought out loud, no such thing as a filter to hinder him whenever he was with you. You figured that was what made your friendship so special. Nothing was too much for each other. 

You huffed, amused at the thought. 

“Are you preparing for college interviews already?” you teased, earning a shrug from Yoonoh who seemed actually deep in thought.  

“No, really. Haven’t you thought about it before? I’m always kind of… you know,  curious about how things’ll play out.” 

“I don’t think we’ll be that different,” you shrugged, your shirt bunching up slightly at your neck when you did so, “I mean, yeah, physically we’ll probably be different… but other than that, I don’t know? Maybe we’ll get new hobbies, meet new people and get new interests and habits because of that… maybe we’ll find out some things that change our perception on obscure things we never thought about before or something… but I don’t really see us being very different from how we are now.” 

Yoonoh hummed, “You think so?” 

You shrugged again. 

“Just guessing. I don’t really know what to expect from college other than debt and bad-to-worse sleep habits.” 

Letting out a chesty laugh, he nodded, “Damn… me too. It’s kind of funny now, thinking about it.” 

“About what?” 

He brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair, another sigh leaving him. 

“Like how when we were younger we thought turning eighteen was like… the dream, right? We always thought we’d be able to do so many things at that age—” 

“You kept thinking you were gonna have a kid when you turn twenty,” you giggled at the memory. 

Yoonoh sucked in a sharp breath, a certain resignation in his tone, “Might have to take a rain check on that… Rina’s not really into kids.” 

Your eyes widened, eyebrows raising. 

“Yeah… but it’s like what I said, who even knows, right? Maybe in five years Rina and I won’t even be together anymore,” he shrugged, throwing it out there casually, his words eliciting a frown from you. 

“I mean… ” you suppressed the feeling of conflict in your heart, “I’m sure if you guys love each other, you’ll work something out.” 

Yoonoh nodded, another sigh leaving him, “Suppose so, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say I love her.” 

“I mean… you guys have been together for six months, right? That’s… wouldn’t you sort of know if you wanted to continue being with her by now?” 

Yoonoh turned to you, “and what if I don’t?” 

You were at a loss for words, unsure why he seemed so… resigned about his relationship. And hating the way it unsettled you. 

You nodded, your discomfort getting the better of you, “Fine, then maybe in five years you’ll meet someone new… someone who you really love. You can’t ever be too sure when it comes to these things.” 

Yoonoh had simply looked at you, that same unreadable expression on his face. 

“You think so?” 

You nodded. 

Yoonoh turned back to face the ceiling. 

“She’ll have to really be something, alright. I’m coming to realise it’s not so easy to find love these days.” 

You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling from your lips in a way that made Yoonoh shut his eyes just so he would restrain his urge to look back at you. It wouldn’t be good for him, not with the way his heart was stirring. 

“You’re so dramatic, old man. You talk like you’ve been in the dating scene for forty years,” you scoffed, earning a shrug from Yoonoh. 

He pursed his lips, poorly stifling his giggles before letting them out, “Seriously, it’s hard finding someone who I can be totally honest with and loves me. These days it’s like it's mutually exclusive or something.” 

“Honestly, I’d just marry you if I could,” Yoonoh blurted out, immediately thankful his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see your reaction. 

Your silence, though, was practically yelling at him. He didn’t know what to make of that. 

“Could you ever see that happening? I remember we used to always talk about it when we were in middle school. Like permanent roommates or something.” 

It was true, you did. Maybe you’d both just been too inspired by all the coming-of-age movies you were watching. All those ‘if we’re not married by 40 we’ll marry each other’ pacts getting to the both of you. 

“Marrying each other?” you spoke cautiously, making Yoonoh shrug. 

“Guess it doesn’t have to be that way. Where do you see yourself in 10 years, then? Would that be different from the 5 year image?” 

Immediately, for some reason, you pictured yourself in your dream job, setting up a bookstore in a cozy part of town. You imagined that Yoonoh had been discovered as a basketball genius or something. Maybe he’d even get scouted to represent the country on the national team. But knowing him, he’d probably be studying at the same time, whether it’s something like social work or teaching or architecture and design, maybe even all at different stages of his life. You pictured yourselves in a world where though the two of you lived such different lives, you’d still find a deliciously normal way to reconnect with each other after your long days, like meeting each other at a troublesomely located dumpling shop to talk to each other, about everything boring and exciting about your days, your dreams, your hopes. Not a care in the world, just… the two of you finding your way in the world with each other as that little bit of yourselves that kept each other grounded. 

As impossible as that seemed to you right now. 

“I don't know… where do you see yourself in ten years?” you asked, curious to know what he was thinking (and more so not wanting to get ahead of yourself). 

Yoonoh shrugged. 

“I think in ten years… I’ll be playing for the national basketball team. I’m still deciding between architecture or design or engineering so i’ll probably have a degree or diploma in one of those by then… you’ll set up your own bookstore that’ll be really cozy and beautiful and authentic like Meg Ryan in you’ve got mail…” the more he spoke, the more you felt like it was your mind playing sick tricks on you, “And we’ll rent out cheap apartments because the goal is to save up enough to travel, obviously. And we’ll meet each other to do something stupid that we don’t get to do a lot... like furniture shopping or just meeting up to eat like we always do. Not anywhere fancy, though, I don’t know why but I'm kinda picturing those quaint little shops with bomb ass food because they’re run by those grandmas with secret recipes.” 

You didn’t know how to react, you almost wished he would stop talking. Did the fates think this was funny? Planting this idea into both of your heads even though the circumstances seemed so far from it now. 

“Sounds… impossible,” you finally spoke. 

You didn’t mean to be so negative, you just felt like you needed to remind yourself not to get carried away, especiallyunsettled now at the fact that he hadn’t mentioned Rina in his future. 

Yoonoh’s eyelids fluttered open, turning his head to look at you, a soft smile on his face as his little dimples showed on his soft cheeks. 

“Don’t you dream impossible things?” he sang. 

You couldn’t help the grin that showed on your face, Yoonoh’s smile growing as well as he hummed the chorus in short bits. Reaching over for your phone, he disconnected your headphones, playing ‘starlight’ just for added effect, distracting you from your previous inner frustration.

“Does Rina listen to Taylor Swift?” you laughed, trying to bring her back to the forefront of the conversation as if that would help to put some invisible boundary between you and Yoonoh, “At this rate it’s as if you listen to her more than I do.” 

Yoonoh’s music taste was nothing like yours, but you figured that was what was nice about it. Sometimes you would introduce songs to each other that the other person never would’ve discovered on their own but you knew they would love. But at your question, Yoonoh realised that it was kind of funny how he seemed to have heard the songs so much from you that he knew the lyrics by heart as well. He would never tell you it was simply because he liked how her songs reminded him of you. They were your thing, and he loved that. 

“I like her songs,” he shrugged, “Rina hates Taylor’s music,” he let out a small huff of laughter, and he left it at that. 

You hummed, “To each his own, I guess.” 

Yoonoh grinned, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Not gonna defend your idol?” he teased, nudging you as if he was trying to elicit a reaction from you, sighing exaggeratedly and shaking his head slowly in feigned disappointment, “I expected more from you…” 

“Stop... trying to stir shit between me and Rina, that’s not very loving for a Valentine boy, huh?” You rolled your eyes, though his shit-eating grin stayed unwavering. 

“I was just born on Valentine’s day, doesn’t make me cupid,” he defended smugly, “plus, it’s just a fan defending their favourite artist, isn’t it?” 

“You’re so stupid,” you huffed, allowing the silence to envelop the both of you. 

You don’t know why (or maybe you did know) there was a part of you that felt a little satisfied knowing that this was something special that you and Yoonoh shared. But you couldn’t deny the lingering frustration within you about whether there was more of a reason behind that satisfaction than you were willing to come to terms with. 

They first got together around the middle of last year. But you knew something in your gut was telling you that it wasn’t a coincidence that was the period Yoonoh’s popularity in school had peaked. He was a star player on the basketball team, not to mention with his changing physique and his good-looks, and especially the way he made people feel as though they knew him when in reality they knew quite literally nothing about him. You guess that was just the result of being put on a pedestal.

The Valentine boy. You heard countless times from people in your class, even your own friends, how they wished they had a chance with him- who was ‘perfect’ as anyone could be. 

He became the centre of attention in school, earning him various privileges and opportunities that though admittedly were good for him, boxed him up into the person that they wanted him to be. The perfect, faultless pride of the school. 

But the Yoonoh you were friends with, the one you knew, was not perfect. He was just… Jung Yoonoh. He had annoying little quirks and thoughts and beliefs he had that he hid from the people who adored him because they weren’t thoughts and beliefs that the perfect Valentine boy would have. There was no such thing as flaws or unconventionality when it came to this Valentine boy. But if you knew him like you thought you did, you would’ve known that Yoonoh hated having to hide himself for the sake of being accepted. Yet he did it anyway. 

So when he’d chosen to let his friends set him up with Rina, when he’d gotten swept up in newer, bigger, more popular friend circles as a result, you didn’t say a word. You’d simply hoped he made those decisions on his own. 

But as you were starting to notice, it was almost as if it was a survival scheme of sorts. A power couple decision. You couldn’t necessarily fault him, or her, it helped them thrive in school (and you knew how difficult something like that could be). 

Looking at him now, you couldn’t tell if he was dropping all these comments about Rina for a reason, or if it was just your own urge to play detective that was getting the better of you. Whatever it was, you were conflicted between wanting to be a good friend to him by supporting his relationship with Rina, but also knowing that the person he showed to Rina and to the rest of the school was very different from how he was when he was with you. 

You weren’t sure if he knew which he liked better. 

More importantly, you weren’t sure if you were just a bit of the old he was hanging on to for good times sake. It seemed too good to be true, that even when Yoonoh had what seemed like the whole world at his fingertips, that he’d still choose to do something as stupid as show up at your treehouse at an ungodly hour in the morning just to talk about something he could’ve just called you to talk about. 

It made you feel like you were somebody to him, and that was dangerous. 

“I’m… I’m kind of tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you lied, seeing Jaehyun yawn just as you mentioned being tired. 

“Can I crash here? I’m kind of lazy to walk back home,” he gave you a sheepish smile, earning a deep sigh of feigned disappointment from you. 

Nodding, you already made your way to grab the blankets from where they were draped over the sofa, frowning when you realised Yoonoh hadn’t moved from where he was on the floor. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch?” you hummed, earning a hum from him. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I need to brush my teeth, anyway… think I'll just stay like this for a little longer.” 

You let your gaze linger on his face, trying to detect any emotion that was out of the ordinary but coming up short. 

“Okay. G’night, then.” 

Yoonoh smiled, the hum of his voice almost distracting you from a step out of the treehouse. 

“Sweet dreams.” 

Sitting up once you were gone, with his gaze fixed on you as you walked across the garden towards your house, he waited until he saw the warm orange light glowing from your window. Training his gaze back towards the deep blue of the sky, Yoonoh let his mind go quiet for the first time that day, and strangely enough, he felt okay. 

===

“Oh my God, my favourite librarian!”

Your hand jerked in surprise, making the can slip from your fingers in the vending machine, turning to see Sicheng dressed in his hoodie and basketball shorts making his way over to you. 

Reaching your hand under the flap again, you fished out your canned drink from the vending machine, straightening up to flash a smile at Sicheng, the boy reaching an arm out to pull you into a side-hug. 

“Where are you going? Library?” 

You nodded. 

Sicheng nodded, “Nice, me too.” 

You gasped, a teasing smile on your face, “Really? Thought you said you’d never show your face there again after you got kicked out?” 

Turning in the direction of the library, you both continued to walk with Sicheng’s arm lazily draped around your shoulder. 

You heard him let out a deep sigh. 

“I thought so too. But I just found out I’ve got insane overdue book fees that I can’t resolve ‘cause I have no idea where those books are anymore…” 

Not being able to help the giggle that slipped from you, you shook your head, “If I were the librarian, I’d be pissed at you too. But I'd probably just waive the fee and ask you to just pay for the book.” 

He turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes, his lips curving into a wide smile, “Oh, but you are a librarian, aren’t you? Don’t you think you could pull some strings for your second best pal?”  

“Second best?” you furrowed your eyebrows, amused. 

Sicheng looked at you as if you were an idiot for not getting that, “First best is Jaehyun, obviously.” 

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation. 

Yoonoh… you hadn’t seen him in a while. Though you had English class together, he barely attended, always getting excused since the school was squeezing in extra basketball practice sessions at the same time. If your memory was correct, the last time you saw him was at dinner at your house two weeks ago. 

Sicheng seemed to have sensed how you missed him, giving you a small smile. 

“Have you guys hung out recently?”

You shook your head, “Not really… the last time I saw him was a few weeks ago... but even then we didn’t really get to talk much before he passed out on my couch.” 

Sicheng hummed, seeming to understand what you meant. 

“Yeah, he’s really tired these days… keeps falling asleep in class,” Sicheng explained, “he’s… got a lot of things on his plate at the moment.” 

You nodded. 

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I guess it’s all things he needs… it’s not like he can really afford a break right now.” 

Sicheng hummed, pursing his lips slightly as he glanced at the time on his watch. Sicheng didn’t agree, obviously. He was a firm believer of making sure you had a consistent eating and sleeping schedule (something he knew neither you or Jaehyun had at the moment). 

“Maybe he can…” he trailed off, seeming distracted by something, not finishing his sentence in the end. 

“Right,” you pressed your lips together in a firm line, “Anyway, nope, can’t do anything about your fees.” 

He grunted, his fingers pushing the strap of your bag his arm was resting on up your shoulder further, so it wouldn’t slip off your shoulder. 

“How’s club life without me?” he grinned, “Boring, I hope.” 

You sighed, “I would say it’s pretty… average? Nothing much really happens in the library, and I usually just use the time to read or study, anyway.” 

Sicheng nodded, “Tldr, boring.” 

You smiled, “Exactly.” 

“What about you? Don’t you have basketball practice today?” 

Sicheng huffed bitterly at the mention of basketball practice. 

“Yeah, well. I’m in exile.” 

“Exile?” you laughed. 

“Since stupid coach decided to bench me,” he emphasised the word with evident disdain, “I figured he wouldn’t care if I just skipped one practice to do my library shit.” 

You shook your head, though your smile remained. 

“Might as well make good use of your day off, then. I’m closing today.” 

Sicheng hummed, “That’s enticing, but I need to get started on my college apps. God knows I'm just gonna get distracted if I stay in the library for long.” 

Reaching the library, Sicheng pushed the door open for you, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack as he met the gaze of the librarian at the main desk who was already glaring at him despite the sweet smile he was giving her. 

“Wish me luck,” he muttered through his smile, eliciting a huff of laughter from you. 

“Good luck.” 

Going your separate ways, you made your way over to the check-in system so you could clock-in, letting your ID card dangle from the lanyard around your neck as you focused on organising the few books in the trolley before you were free to do whatever you pleased. 

You enjoyed the quiet you got in the library. No one ever really came here unless they needed to, and to need to come here was pretty rare in your school. People who came here usually did it because they wanted to find a place in school where they would be undisturbed and not have to worry about anyone finding them. It was easy to get lost in all the rows of shelves and little reading nooks and cushioned corners. 

You had a favourite place in the library, just deep enough that people were too lazy to walk that deep into the library for a seat unless everywhere else was taken. It was where Sicheng and you would sit during club hours and read, gossip, game (or nap) for as long as you could. 

Now, you focused on making yourself comfortable and cracking open the book you were almost done with. 

Reading until you’d managed to cloud any awareness of your surroundings, you were drawn back to reality when you felt a thud next to you on the floor. Turning your head quickly, you were shocked to see Jaehyun of all people, his duffle bag now dumped next to you and dressed in a hoodie and shorts as well. Thankfully, he looked (and smelled) freshly showered. 

Jaehyun’s smile was tired, but nothing about it seemed forced. Maybe you being in the library club wasn’t such a bad thing after all, if it meant the privacy allowed Jaehyun to let down his guard (even if it was just by a little). 

“Sorry, didn’t think the sound would be that loud,” his smile was sheepish, “mind if I join you?” 

“Wouldn’t napping at home be better?” 

Jaehyun shook his head. 

“I’m having dinner at your house later, remember?” 

Right. His parents were coming over. And so was Rina. 

A long drawn hum of understanding left you, shifting your body to the side so Jaehyun could make himself comfortable on the floor next to you. 

Resting his head on his duffle bag that lay near your knee, the little keychain of his bag clinking against the metal zipper as he made himself comfortable, wasting no time to fold his arms across his chest and close his eyes. 

It didn’t take longer than two minutes for his breathing to even out, his chest rising and falling slowly as his arms relaxed. 

You tried to continue reading, but you were already distracted. Things between you and Yoonoh were different now, in an almost glaringly obvious way. 

Yet you were almost absolutely sure you were in love with him, as horrifying as that knowledge was to you. 

You saw his phone screen light up with a text from Rina, texts barely covering his wallpaper that was a screenshot of his very packed schedule. 

Rina  4:10pm -  sorry, didn’t see this-  4:10pm - yeah I’m still with Johnny-  4:10pm - u still cmg over later tho?- 

You turned your attention back to your book, forcing your gaze away from his phone for your own good. 

You trust Rina not to hurt him. 

Turning back to your book, you felt the light buzz of your phone indicating that it was the library’s closing time, shutting your book and turning to Jaehyun, reaching a hand out but stopping yourself just before you made contact with him. 

The sight of his sleeping face, the schedule on his lockscreen, the reddish tint under his eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up. 

So you waited. You waited until it was 5:30 and he had shocked himself awake with the sound of his own snore. 

Fighting back your amusement, you took in his confused expression, the dazed look in his eyes before he’d blinked harshly, sucking in a sharp breath and letting it out in a deep sigh. 

“Good morning,” you snickered, shoving your book into your bag and slinging the straps around your shoulders, stretching your legs out in front of you and bending forward in a stretch. 

Jaehyun glanced at his phone, his eyes lingering on Rina’s texts before he’d turned to you with a frown. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he spoke through his yawn, his hand coming up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. 

You shrugged, “You looked like you needed the extra hour.” 

Jaehyun sighed, his lips curving into a small smile. 

“Honestly, I did… thanks, angel.” 

Ignoring his nickname for you again (and especially the way it was making your heart feel funny), you stood up first, making your way over to the desk to clock out with your card (making sure not to forget to change the time in the system), waiting for Jaehyun to walk over as you held the door open with your body. 

His eyebrows were furrowed as he typed away at his phone, walking out before you and halting so you could lock the door, shoving his phone into his pocket with a huff. 

You didn’t ask. You figured he’d talk about it when he was ready. 

And it seemed, four blocks from your house was where he decided he was ready. 

“Rina’s with John Seo again.” 

Your eyes widened, feigning shock as best as you could. 

“Oh, really? She is?” you hummed. 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, his gaze searching your expression for a mere moment before he let out a sigh. 

“You made the right choice not going into acting,” he commented, making you drop your facade of fake surprise instantly, sighing. 

“Hope you didn’t lash out at her…” you warned. 

Jaehyun wasn’t one to get angry very often, but his words always got a lot more blunt when he was annoyed. 

Jaehyun shook his head, almost sulking, “I didn’t.” 

“Well… then it’s fine, right? I mean… she doesn’t feel the need to hide it from you so…” 

Jaehyun shrugged, another annoyed huff leaving him,  “She was supposed to join us for dinner tonight but she bailed ‘cause she’d rather go meet him.” 

“Maybe it was an emergency?” You attempted to defend Rina. 

Jaehyun, unfortunately, couldn’t see past his annoyance to stay objective. 

“An emergency at his house? What did he do? Burn himself on a hot kettle? Cut himself trying to open a pizza box?” Jaehyun’s tone was mocking, punctuated by the way he rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

You rolled your eyes, “Your examples suck. Maybe she just didn’t feel like socialising tonight.” 

“It’s just you and our parents—” 

“And that’s plenty of socialising already. Cut her some slack, dude. She asked you if you were coming over after, right? Doesn’t that show she wants to spend time with you?” 

You were already walking up to your front door, unlocking the door and greeting both of your parents in the kitchen. 

Jaehyun mustered a half-assed smile to your parents, still trailing close behind you as you made your way to your room. 

“She could just be asking out of courtesy, you know.”

You groaned, you were starting to get annoyed now and Yoonoh could tell, judging from the way he hadn’t followed you into your room, “Do you want to spend time with her or not? Like you said, she’s still your girlfriend. Her helping out with John Seo’s emergency doesn’t change that.”

You threw your bag somewhere next to your bed, turned around and made your way back to your bedroom door, seeing Jaehyun standing there, pursing his lips. 

“Fine, you’re right. I’ll still go over to her place later.” 

“Good. Now can we go eat now?” 

Jaehyun nodded, letting you lead the way down the stairs, muttering behind you, “Just saying, just because I’m going over to her place later doesn’t mean I don’t still feel like shit.” 

You sighed, lowering your volume since you were both almost in the kitchen. 

“I know,” you murmured, taking your seat next to your mom and letting Yoonoh find his seat next to his dad on the other side of the table. 

Your mom leaned in, dropping her voice to a low murmur, “Everything okay?” 

You nodded. 

Though she obviously didn’t believe you, it wasn’t like she was going to make Yoonoh’s love life the dinner topic for today, so she’d signalled for everyone to start eating, all of you falling into the rhythm naturally as if nothing had happened. 

“How was school, guys?” Yoonoh’s mom asked, earning a grunt from him and a smile from you. 

“It was alright,” you glanced at Yoonoh, glaring at him in a telepathic ‘get yourself together!’, “things have just been a bit busy… revision before exams and all.” 

Your dad hummed, “Yeah, yeah. Right, and you have basketball stuff on top of that, right son?” 

Yoonoh nodded, sighing deeply, “Yeah… it’s been pretty crazy.” 

“Oh, right. What happened to Rina, honey? Didn’t you say she was coming?” Yoonoh’s mom had asked, and you missed the look his dad had cast your way before looking at him. 

Shaking his head, Yoonoh kept his gaze fixed on his plate as he shoved another forkful of food into his mouth. 

“Change of plans. I’m going over to her place later instead.” 

You glanced up from your food, shocked to find his parents looking at you for some sort of assurance. 

“Yeah, Rina’s pretty busy herself too… with her tutoring sessions and cheerleading practice and whatnot… all those new social dinners to attend since her mom’s running for Mayor,” you smiled, seeing the way his parents had visibly relaxed in response. 

Chimes of ‘ahh, right’ and ‘yeah, right, elections are soon’ followed.  

“It’s amazing what kind of effort goes into maintaining their reputation…” your dad muttered under his breath, making your mother cluck her tongue in disdain. 

“Your father was just telling us just now about how the donations from Rina’s dad have really been helping them down at the police station,” your mom directed her words towards Yoonoh, who seemed apathetic to the entire conversation. 

“Yeah...pretty hefty ones, if you asked me,” your dad huffed, making your lips part in shock. 

“So, how’s stuff at the university been?” you attempted to divert the topic, hoping Yoonoh’s dad would save the strange tension at the dinner table. 

Thankfully, he did. Giving you a small smile, he’d launched into an explanation about the new faculty the college was opening, leaving you finally able to eat your dinner in peace. 

Yoonoh however, remained with the same disconnected glazed over eyes, acting like he was listening by nodding every now and then even though you knew he wasn’t. 

Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for the next week. But even that seemed a little impossible at this point. 

Maybe he would just sleep at Rina’s. 

From finishing his dinner, mindlessly nodding at conversations, bidding everyone goodbye and making his commute to Rina’s house, everything had been a blur, the only thought in the front of his mind being that he hoped he could find some comfort and rest in Rina’s presence. 

Unfortunately, their relationship didn’t quite work that way. 

Upon walking into her (expansive) driveway, Jaehyun realised her parents weren’t home. That seemed to help him relax slightly more, knowing he wasn’t awaiting a swarm of questions about whether he needed ‘help’ to secure his basketball scholarship. 

Stepping into the house (the door was unlocked), he spotted Rina on her couch, who mustered a smile at him as he made his way over to sit next to her, dumping his things down on the floor with a sigh. 

“You alright?” she asked, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips, her gaze looking almost distracted when she pulled away, as if she wasn’t registering her actions. 

Jaehyun nodded, “Just a little tired,” he murmured, not having expected her to lean in to press another kiss to his cheek. 

“Why don’t I help you relax?” she offered, her hand smoothing over his chest and moving to the hem of his shirt. 

Shifting in his seat slightly, Jaehyun shook his head, his hand finding her wrist to halt her actions, “No, I’m not really up for it today…"

Rina frowned, “It’s fine, you don’t have to do anything.” 

Jaehyun shook his head, placing Rina’s hand on her knee. 

“Can we just… talk?” 

Rina fell silent, pursing her lips. 

“You came here to talk?” 

Jaehyun huffed, almost amused at her reaction, “Well, I mean, yeah. Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” 

Rina shook her head, “No, it’s not bad or anything, I’m just confused… are you like… mad at me or something?” 

She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, averting her gaze. 

Jaehyun sighed, frowning in confusion, “I’m not mad at you, Rina. I mean it, honestly, I just wanna talk to you.” 

Rina’s eyebrows furrowed, nodding slowly. 

“How was your day?” he asked, resting his head on his arm that was propped against the sofa, a sleepy look in his eyes. 

“... you’re being weird,” she huffed nervously. 

Jaehyun huffed, “What’s so weird about asking you how your day was? I ask you that all the time.” 

“And I always tell you the same thing? My day was normal?” Rina felt awkward, uncomfortable almost. 

Jaehyun let out a small huff of laughter, “I wanted to tell you this just now but I forgot, I actually had a dream of you, and we were at the beach and you had this little puppy with you…” he trailed off when he saw the way Rina was looking at him. 

He’d seen that look many times before, he shouldn’t have expected her reaction to be different this time. 

“You know dreams are meaningless, right?” she laughed, “I seriously don’t get why you bother to remember your dreams… much less why you take them so seriously.” 

Jaehyun’s lips parted, a small huff leaving him as well, “Right, yeah. No, yeah, forget it, it was stupid.” 

The words felt foreign and bitter on his tongue, as if it was his bodily response to having to lie. Jaehyun frowned. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I was a little annoyed with you just now for bailing on dinner to hang out with John Seo, but Y/N managed to convince me—”

“You told her about me and Johnny?!” Rina’s confusion had turned to anger almost instantly, going on the defensive as she glared at Jaehyun. 

Annoyance bubbled within Jaehyun, his eyebrows raising. 

“‘You and Johnny?’,” he scoffed. 

Realisation flashed through Rina’s eyes, but it was masked as soon as they appeared. 

“I can’t believe you, Jay. Why would you tell her something like that?” 

Jaehyun’s lips parted in disbelief, “You said it wasn’t a big deal. You and Johnny are ‘just friends’, right?” his tone was pointed, as if he were daring her to challenge him. 

Rina desperately fought to manoeuvre the situation to her advantage. One thing about Rina that Jaehyun failed to realise was that when you’re brought up in an environment like hers, lying and manipulation came as easily as breathing. After all, you tend to pick up on things like that after they’ve been used on you all your life. 

“That’s not the point, Jay. It’s the fact that you’re even telling her private things about our relationship at all,” she said harshly, “that’s how it always starts.” 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows knit in confusion before he realised, a scoff leaving him. 

“You think I’m cheating on you?” he asked, the look on her face almost unreadable. 

“Well, yeah! I mean, all that time you spend with her instead of with me—” 

“I would be able to spend time with you if you didn’t always bail on me to hang out with ‘Johnny’,” his tone was spiteful now. 

Rina scoffed. 

“Don’t try to blame this on me, Jay. I don’t like you spending all that time with her.”

“I don’t even see her that often these days—” 

“You know that’s not the point.”  

“She’s my best friend, Rina,” Jaehyun groaned, “What do you want me to do? Just stop talking to her?” 

Rina pursed her lips, knowing she shouldn’t have said her next words, but said them anyway. 

“If you really cared about this relationship, or cared about me, you should be able to tell me anything you tell her. You should talk to me about our problems, not her.” 

Jaehyun bit the inside of his cheek. 

How was he supposed to be honest with her, if she wouldn’t let him? 

But like you said, Jaehyun wasn’t one to give up so easily. So he was going to try. 

“Fine.” 

A long silence ensued, the both of them seated rigidly on the sofa as they tried to calm down. 

Jaehyun, as usual, was the first to speak up. 

“I’m sorry, I was being harsh just now,” he murmured, his words only serving to make waves of guilt wash through Rina. 

She shook her head, “It’s okay.” 

Pulling her into a hug, Rina let her head rest on his chest even though it felt foreign, detached. But no matter how horrible she felt, she welcomed his embrace anyway, for the temporary feeling of affection that would put her at ease for now. 

=== 

Basketball, grades, girlfriend, college, family. 

Yoonoh tried turning to all to get rid of the itching feeling within him that was desperate to tell you all the stupid minute little details of his life, and the big ones like his and Rina’s relationship. Unfortunately, none of them were as effective as he hoped. 

That was how you found yourself in your treehouse again, sitting at the edge of the balcony as you watched Yoonoh below you trying to shoot his basketball into the little hoop his dad had mounted on the tree when you were in middle school. 

The routine reminded you of the days you helped him prepare for basketball tryouts in middle school (and high school), though this time you wouldn’t say you were very happy looking down at him. 

You hadn’t spoken to him since he had dinner at your house, outside of exchanging snide comments or wishing each other luck when you’d bump into each other on the way in and out of class. You were even speaking to Sicheng more than him. It wasn’t exactly unusual, per se, but you found yourself missing the little texts that would come in in the morning updating you about the dream he had the night before, or stupid little details like how he was trying a new sequence of showering to see which was the least time consuming, or perhaps updates on a show he was watching. 

But perhaps the time away, and time spent with your other friends, was starting to make you realise that maybe it was a good thing to detach yourself from these things, from what you felt for Yoonoh for now. Sure, you loved him, and you loved hearing from him, but you were still trying to come to terms with how it felt like more than the love one usually had for their best friend. 

One thing was to fall in love with someone and want to build a life with them, get married to them, have kids, be parents together, grow old with them. And there was falling in love with your best friend, finding that they were someone that saw you for who you were and stayed because and in spite of it, wanting to grow with them and see them through the different stages of life, protect them, cherish them, share in their joys and in their suffering. 

You were frustrated that people saw this as a binary choice. As if love could be defined and confined in such a way. Platonic or romantic. Best friends or lovers. Maybe for others, it was easier to classify it that way but like you said, you were frustrated because the love you felt for Yoonoh was everything and all of it. 

There wasn’t a reason why you loved him, you just did. 

Today, you were extra tired, your reason being the long day of studying and stressing over finals, and so was Yoonoh but for a very different reason. 

“It was so weird. I mean, I don’t have a problem with her hanging out with Johnny but—” 

“Are you sure she’d be alright with you telling me all of this?” you couldn’t help yourself from asking, grimacing at the way his basketball completely missed and thumped against the tree trunk loudly, feeling the impact under you. 

Yoonoh’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, a huff leaving him. 

“You know, that’s exactly what she said. She was actually saying that day that she doesn’t like how I tell you things… or tell you about my life,” Yoonoh grunted, bouncing his basketball before making another throw. 

“Talk about ridiculous,” he continued, “like, why would I not tell my best friend things about my life? That’s like going to the toilet when you need to pee and not peeing.” 

Yoonoh expected to hear a snicker from you, of a huff of laughter at least, not the deep sigh that followed. 

“She’s not wrong, you know,” as much as you were reluctant, you knew this was necessary out of respect for Rina, “to want to set boundaries.”

Yoonoh’s hands had held tightly to the basketball in his hands. 

“Huh?” 

You shrugged, “I don’t know.. maybe you just didn’t see it from her perspective until she told you. But you know she’s right… communication between you guys is more important, compared to getting a third party, aka me, to solve your problems without her even knowing.” 

Yoonoh stared blankly at you, bringing a hand up to brush through his hair that was already damp with perspiration. 

“You understand what I’m getting at, right?” you prompted. 

Yoonoh’s blank look persisted, not knowing what to do with himself knowing that you were finally agreeing with Rina, but on something that he never hoped you would think similarly about. 

“It’s like, you’re suffering from something and you just keep going to the doctor for painkillers, but you’re not actuallyfinding out what’s causing the pain… ” you continued slowly, searching his gaze for any sign of understanding. 

Yoonoh pursed his lips, inhaling deeply before letting out a sigh. 

“Fine, maybe you’re right. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s insane.” 

You clucked your tongue at him in disapproval. 

“It’s not insane, Yoonoh. She wants reassurance, not… to break up your friendships.”

Yoonoh huffed, slumping onto the ground with his legs spread out in front of him, basketball thudding dully on the grass, “Friendship. She doesn’t care if I tell Sicheng.”

“Do you tell Sicheng what you tell me?” you shot back quickly, knowing the answer even without him saying it. 

Yoonoh’s lips parted to speak, shutting his mouth before opening it again, “... No.” 

“That’s exactly my poin—” 

“But that’s because it’s different. Sure, Sicheng’s my close friend but he’s not you,” Yoonoh’s voice raised slightly in his frustration, stopping himself before he let out an exasperated huff. 

There it was again, that dangerously comforting feeling of being somebody to him. 

“Yoonoh… I don’t know what to tell you. If it’s what Rina wants, I have no right to tell you otherwise,” you sighed. 

“Yes, you do. You have a right as my best friend,” he insisted, unsure where to place his annoyance at this point. 

What was he trying to do? 

“I don’t want to pick a fight with your girlfriend, Yoonoh,” your frustration bubbled out from you harshly, “What the hell do you want me to do? It’s not like our relationship is the same as your relationship with her, right?” you shook your head, your chest feeling hot with anger and your eyes beginning to sting. 

Yoonoh’s head was pounding. It wasn’t. It definitely wasn’t and that was starting to drive him crazy. 

You didn’t think you had it in you to continue down this rabbit hole, getting up from where you were sitting on the treehouse, ignoring the painful way your shin had accidentally scraped on one of the wooden barriers on the balcony while you did so. You already felt so frustrated you could cry, the little scrape on your shin was nothing. But Yoonoh noticed the way you started to blink harshly, and though you didn’t say it, he knew he was at fault. 

“I think you should leave,” you murmured, your voice teetering dangerously on the line between firm and shaky. 

Yoonoh’s gaze was filled with remorse. 

“Y/N, I didn’—” 

“I mean it. Finals start tomorrow and I need to study.” 

Yoonoh nodded, dropping his basketball and leaving without another word. You guys didn’t fight with each other often, but this time, it put him in a mood more sour than ever. 

His dad noticed when he’d come home and he didn’t hear the music that usually played in the shower when Yoonoh was back from school. It was only a matter of time before his dad had heard the soft padding of bedroom slippers behind him as he was in the dining room marking assignments. 

“Dad… can I talk to you?” Yoonoh murmured, the heaviness of emotion laced in his tone. The light scuffing of the bedroom slippers against the hardwood floors continued until Yoonoh was sitting at the dining table facing his dad, his hair damp and curling in loose waves after his shower and his eyes behind his glasses looking as though he rubbed at them for too long. 

“Sure, what’s wrong? Did something happen at school?” 

Yoonoh shook his head, lips pursing as he averted his gaze from his father’s eyes, training them on the stacks of papers instead. 

“It’s actually… a lot of things… but…” he sighed, “I think I upset Y/N.” 

His dad’s eyebrows raised in surprise, making him feel even worse. 

“I know,” Yoonoh groaned, propping his elbow on the table and leaning his head on his hand. 

“Rina told me that she wanted me to stop telling Y/N so much about my life… and about our relationship, and I was just ranting about it to Y/N when I was at her place just now but I didn’t expect her to agree with Rina.” 

His dad frowned, “What did she say?” 

Yoonoh shrugged, “I mean, she was just defending Rina, I guess. She was trying to say it’s the right thing to do to set boundaries or whatever but it was so—” Yoonoh groaned, “because she’s the only person I could ever be so honest with… if I can’t even talk to her then who the hell am I supposed to talk to?” 

Yoonoh’s dad gave him a knowing look, humming thoughtfully. 

“… don’t you think you may have been putting Y/N in a tough position? You can’t expect her to disrespect Rina by going against her wishes, but at the same time you can’t expect her to be happy about it either.” 

Yoonoh nodded, there didn’t seem to be any easy way around this. 

“Yoonoh… don’t you think you should be able to confide in Rina, or at least, be able to turn to her when you’re struggling? She is your girlfriend…” 

Yoonoh huffed. 

“You’re gonna say I’m an idiot. But that’s the thing… I… I can’t. It’s like each time I try to be myself around her or just tell her the things I would tell Y/N it’s just as if she doesn’t want to know. It’s always been more… natural with Y/N. I don’t have to be a specific person when I’m with her.” 

Yoonoh was glad he could be honest with his dad, at least. But again, it wasn’t quite the same as how he felt with you. 

“I won’t say too much, because at the end of the day it’s something you have to decide for yourself. But maybe it’s time you start thinking about why you’re with Rina if you feel as though you have to be someone else with her.” 

Yoonoh buried his face in his hands, fingers covering his eyes under his glasses, palms muffling his words. 

“Don’t get me wrong, dad. I want to try to make things work with Rina, I just… really don’t understand why that means I have to give up Y/N.” 

Yoonoh’s dad shrugged. 

“Not everything has to be forced, Yoonoh. Sometimes, if it doesn’t work, that’s all there is to it. It’s not as if it’s your fault it’s not working.” 

Yoonoh lifted his face from his hands, looking at his dad with furrowed eyes. 

“You think I should give up on Rina?” he asked, searching for answers in his dad’s expression. 

He simply shrugged. 

“I think you should do whatever feels right for you.” 

Letting out an amused huff at his son’s expression, he waved him off. 

“But first, I think you should get finals out of the way.” 

Yoonoh huffed, standing up and stretching his arms out behind him with a yawn. 

“Fine,” he sighed, “Thanks dad.” The scuffing of bedroom slippers echoed as he left the kitchen. 

“Night, son.” 

He received a hum in reply, going back to his marking once he heard Yoonoh’s bedroom door shut. 

=== 

“Jay! Come here and meet some of my dad’s friends!” Jaehyun was momentarily pulled out of his conversation with Rina’s mom as he saw her beckoning him over to the group of suit-clad men (well, almost everyone here was wearing a suit), Rina standing out amongst them in a beautiful dress he knew he could never afford. 

Rolling his shoulders back, Jaehyun pushed aside his anxiety and made his way over to Rina, something about this environment making him feel like he was in high school; endless murmurs and stares wondering who Rina’s boyfriend was and why he was so privileged to be on the receiving end of all the attention. 

“Nice to meet you. Jay, was it?” One man extended his hand out for Jaehyun to shake, his build and mannerisms awfully reminding Jaehyun of his coach, “I’m Jason, the manager for our national basketball team.” 

Jaehyun would’ve corrected them on his name if he wasn’t close to having an out-of-body experience. The manager? He should’ve known Rina’s father’s connections weren’t to be underestimated. 

“Matthew here’s our coach,” he patted the man next to him with a smile, and if Jaehyun wasn’t starstruck before, he sure was now. 

The coach smiled at him, “Rina’s dad told us a lot about you. We’d love to see you in action, if you’re interested.” 

Jaehyun nodded vigorously, almost choking on his own saliva in his haste to talk, “Yeah, yeah! Of course! That’d be insan— I mean, yeah, that’d be really amazing!” 

Jaehyun could already imagine your reaction, wanting nothing more in that moment than to whip out his phone and message you the good news. 

“Dude, It’d be great to have you on the team with us, we’ve been looking for some new blood,” one of the other suit-clad men (younger looking, lean built and just half a head taller than him) said, and Jaehyun had practically grinned. 

“Maybe we could play one of these days, see if you’re really as good as Rina’s dad’s been saying,” he proposed, earning a huff of laughter from Jaehyun. 

“Of course, I’m down for that.” His reply was relatively calm, even if he was jumping for joy on the inside.

He had barely noticed Rina’s absence from the group of them until he’d turned to find her missing, excusing himself as he whipped his phone out in his excited daze, unlocking it only to be met with reality once again. 

His phone showed the last app he was on before locking it, his notes app revealing the dream he’d typed inside in his half-awake daze when he’d woken up that morning. 

‘Dreamt that it was raining very heavily n u were there and your hair was drenched and i went to you n i think it was cold and u like took my hand or smth n held it closer to urself n but i felt like my hand was really cold n i felt bad so i rmb telling u smth like omg im sorry this wld be nicer if my hand wasnt so cold n u just said it was ok n then u hugged me’ 

Jaehyun sighed deeply, swiping out of his notes app and shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

The dream wasn’t the problem, no. It was a dream he would have easily texted you any other day. Hell, it was typed as though he were texting you, but since that day at your house, you hadn’t spoken to him and he knew that you still needed your space… as much as he wanted the opposite. 

He didn’t like how distant he felt from you, how unsettled it made him feel knowing that he truly wished to hear the stupid little details of your day or something you read in your book or a conversation you had with your mom or even what happened to you as you were getting ready for school. More than that, he was starting to realise that maybe he even wanted this more than his relationship with Rina. He couldn’t keep doing this with Rina, and he was realising that now. 

As if by some sort of divine intervention, a text had come in from his dad. 

dad 5:33pm - we’re having dinner at yn’s house, will you be joining us? or do you have dinner with Rina’s family? - 

Jaehyun typed a ‘ok’, his thumb hovering over the send button before he’d erased what he typed, fingertips padding over the screen before sending his edited reply. 

5:34pm -i'll drop by if we’re done early. don’t save any for me, i’m not hungry- 

The thought of you had continued to gnaw at him for the rest of the gala. Suddenly, everything seemed to remind him of you. 

The arrangement of the cutlery on the table reminded him of a conversation he had with you about how you thought different cutlery for different courses was confusing, the classical music playing in the background reminding him of how you’d always wanted to learn piano but got fed up with his impatience when he was trying to teach you how to play ‘forever and always’ on the piano for three weeks straight, the glittering ring on Rina’s dad’s finger reminding him of your favourite beaded ring you always wore. 

He wanted nothing more than to get out of here, to change into more comfortable clothes and return to your treehouse and listen to you read whatever chapter you were on in your book. Why was it that even in a luxurious environment like this, with every opportunity and privilege he could possibly imagine just waiting for him to accept it, his thoughts were still revolving around you? 

“Babe?” Rina’s voice had sounded like a bell in his head, attracting his attention briefly before his mind returned to its musing. 

“Hmm?” Jaehyun blinked, noticing that almost everyone was beginning to stand up, some already making their way out of the hall. 

“The gala’s over, we’re going to my house for drinks, c’mon.” 

Nodding dumbly, Jaehyun followed behind Rina, huffing as he finally found himself seated against the polished leather seats of her car, the driver already setting off even though he’d barely settled in. 

Jaehyun felt a buzz in his pocket, whipping his phone out and frowning at the screen. 

Dong Sicheng 7:18pm - image attached -  7:18pm - y/n has starbucks perks??? did you know the barista has a crush on her??? he gave me this for free because I told him we were cousins-  

7:18pm - u met y/n? -

Jaehyun debated on skipping out on dinner at your house. Though he desperately wanted to make up with you, he had no idea where to start. He figured he needed some kind of important-enough reason for you to have to converse with him. Simple dinner conversation just didn’t seem like it was enough… not with how upset you still seemed to be. 

Dong Sicheng  7:18pm - yeah i saw her studying in starbucks when i was going to the bus stop-  7:18pm - think she went home already tho, she told me she needs a nap cause shes losing her mind over her physics paper on monday- 

Physics. That was just the excuse he needed. Thank you, Sicheng! 

Before he knew it, he was asking the driver to send him to ur address instead, the look on Rina’s face speaking for itself. 

“You’re skipping the after party with my parents?” she looked disgruntled, almost afraid, as if Jaehyun was the bolster she was hoping to keep with her for the rest of the night. 

Jaehyun tore his gaze away from the speedometer, giving Rina a nod. 

“Yeah, I forgot I was supposed to have dinner with my family.” 

Rina’s frown deepened, “You do know who’s gonna be at the dinner, right? All my dad’s important business partners are gonna be there,” she stressed. 

Jaehyun couldn’t seem to find it in him to care, his insides bubbling with anticipation to see you. 

“I know,” he replied simply. 

“It could really help you in the future, you know,” Rina attempted to find more reasons to convince him, evidently unprepared for her bolster to have suddenly decided to bail. 

Jaehyun huffed, “I already met the basketball people, though.” 

Rina scoffed. 

“I wasn’t talking about them. I was talking about people that would be actually important for your future career. Investors? Tycoons?” 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed, not seeming to pick up on what Rina was implying. 

“C’mon, Jay. You don’t actually think you can make a career out of basketball, do you? Don’t be stupid. You’re really missing out on an opportunity like this for what? Spaghetti with your parents?” 

If Jaehyun wasn’t hurt before, he was now. It took a lot to get him annoyed, but like you said, sometimes he couldn’t help but want to be a little spiteful (especially when it came to defending his relationship with you). 

“And Y/N’s family,” he replied calmly. 

The look on Rina’s face had almost instantly been masked with a blank look, leaning back in her seat and facing forward, no words leaving her for the rest of the car ride. 

===

You were trying to study, but as time passed, you were growing hungrier and the inconsistent thumping that vibrated through the treehouse was starting to annoy you. As if your textbook wasn’t already annoying you enough. 

Trying your best to be inconspicuous, you peeped over the little railing on the treehouse, not even surprised when you saw Yoonoh- suit jacket and tie tossed haphazardly on the grass, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows- trying, and failing, to shoot his basketball into the makeshift basketball hoop your dad had nailed into the tree when you were both in middle school. 

You knew Yoonoh. And you knew he must’ve had a lot on his mind to be playing this badly. 

Almost forgetting you were trying to be inconspicuous, you’d met his gaze briefly and hurried to lean back so he couldn’t see you. 

“I know you’re in there, you know.” 

You pursed your lips, hearing (and feeling) another thump resound through the treehouse, the leaves shivering from the impact. You knew that one was probably done on purpose. 

You huffed, “Do you mind? It’s kind of hard to focus when the whole treehouse shakes every five seconds.” 

Yoonoh almost smiled. This was progress. Annoyance-filled progress, but progress nonetheless. 

“Then get out of it and talk to me,” he challenged. 

You rolled your eyes. He pulled that stunt with Rina and expected you to just roll with it? You figured you deserved to be at least a little annoyed with him. 

“You know what? Maybe I'm fine with the earthquakes after all, it’ll train my patience,” you shouted back. 

Jaehyun sighed when he’d tried to shoot another hoop, the basketball bouncing off of the rim of the hoop and back into his arms. 

“C’mon, angel, I know you’re still mad at me—” 

“At least you know that much,” you grunted, “and don’t call me that.” 

“—but would you at least let me apologize to your face?” 

You pressed your lips into a firm line. 

“I’ll come up if you don’t respond in the next ten seconds.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” you countered. 

As if by some stroke of luck, Yoonoh heard your mom call out that they were going to leave for drinks at the lounge. 

You wouldn’t be able to ignore him for much longer, and you both knew that. 

You heard the thudding of the basketball against the grass, the soft crunching of leaves as Yoonoh left the garden. 

You sighed. As much as you wanted to ignore him and stay annoyed at him, you couldn't help it; you missed your best friend. 

Maybe you’ll finish this chapter before going in. 

Shoving your book on the floor with a thud once you were done, you shifted yourself whilst still cross-legged till you were at the edge of the ladder, sighing as you climbed down, your fatigue weighing down on you and making you feel heavier than ever. 

Walking over to the entrance from the garden, seeing that it was already left a crack open, you pushed the door lightly, entering the kitchen and being greeted with the sound of Rina’s voice muffled over his speaker phone. 

“You sure you’re not coming over later?” she asked. 

Yoonoh was oblivious to your entrance, focused on grappling with your faulty can opener to crack open a tin of canned fruits (you don’t know why he seemed to like them so much, you were sure there was something about them that wasn’t healthy). 

“No, I’m not.” 

Rina’s sigh was loud, close to a groan. 

“Are you sure? My dad’s asking for you, Jay.” 

Jaehyun let out a huff of laughter, “Then tell him I'm not there? He knows I have a family too, right?”

Your eyebrows raised, hands going behind you to touch the countertop before you let yourself lean against it, shamelessly eavesdropping on his conversation. 

“Jay, seriously. What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see what a mistake you’re making?” 

You purse your lips, wondering what could’ve been happening at her dad’s gala for her to be so annoyed with him for not attending. 

Yoonoh sighed, “That’s the thing, Rina. It’s not a mistake to me. Now stop hiding in your bathroom and just go join the party.” 

A small pause ensued, you could practically hear the tap running. 

“Whatever, Jay.” 

She hung up first, and you took that as your queue to start alerting him of your presence, pulled your mug out of the rack and huffed at the way the sharp sound of the cups clinking against each other had shocked him. 

Yoonoh was leaning against the counter now, a cube of persimmon on his fork that hovered just centimeters from his lips. 

He was waiting for it, for something. A snide remark about his dressing, a comment about his horrible basketball playing, even a nag of ‘why don’t you just eat an actual fresh fruit?’. 

You took a sip of your water, facing him as you rested your back against the fridge. 

“Thought you said you hated people calling you ‘Jay’,” you told him pointedly. 

Yoonoh nodded. 

“I do.” 

You raised your eyebrows at him, “didn’t seem like you hated it,” you gestured to his phone with your glass. 

Yoonoh sighed. 

“I’m a lot better at lying than you think,” he shrugged. 

You frowned, grimacing, “That’s concerning.” 

Yoonoh waved you off, shaking his head in dismissal. 

“It’s no use correcting her, she’ll call me whatever she wants to call me,” he sighed, almost shivering at his memory of Sicheng’s teasing. 

You let out a soft huff, downing the rest of your water. The pause that ensued between the both of you made a tense feeling grip you by your shoulders, especially with the way he was looking at you. That same look that made you feel as though he had a million things to say to you but didn’t know where to start. 

“Why’d you come here?” You attempted to shake the tension off. 

Yoonoh’s lips froze momentarily over his fork, slipping it out of his mouth slowly. He had the audacity to smile at you, poorly stifling it at that, as he twirled the fork around with his fingers

“I have a good reason... but can I apologize first?” 

Right, you almost forgot you were annoyed at him. 

“Fine, apologize,” you set your glass on the table, folding your arms across your chest. . 

“Okay, so… I was thinking about our last conversation… and I feel like shit for putting you in that position. I never meant to do that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I put you on the spot, and that was a shitty thing for me to do,” he began, “I was just upset at Rina, and more upset at the fact that I couldn’t stand up to her… that I took it out on you, as if you were supposed to stand up for me. But I know that was wrong of me, and I’m really sorry for that.” 

You nodded, huffing. You had many questions for him, but you didn’t think he had the answers for them right now. But for some reason, you asked them anyway. 

“Why do you think you can’t tell her how you feel?” 

Something about Yoonoh’s gaze had grown more pensive, more intent, as if the million things he wanted to tell you had intensified. 

“I think you already know the answer to that,” he murmured. 

“Do I?” 

Yoonoh nodded. Maybe you did. 

You ignored the feeling of being frozen in place, forcing yourself to keep your mind calm, “Did you guys fight again? She sounded pretty pissed at you, you know, when I was eavesdropping just now.” 

Yoonoh’s eyebrows raised, “So, apology accepted?” 

You scoffed, “Seriously, I don’t need to say it for you to know—” 

“No,” he shook his head, the insistence in his voice throwing you off momentarily, “I need you to say it.” 

Your lips parted, mouth suddenly feeling dry, rendering you with no choice but to nod, “Apology accepted.” 

Yoonoh smiled, dimples appearing, relaxing visibly in the way his shoulders had dropped just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed the way he was holding himself back from making his way over to you to hug you. 

“Anyway, you were saying just now... you had a good reason for ditching the after party?” you cleared your throat, the tension not seeming to be dissipating anytime soon. 

Yoonoh nodded, setting the can on the countertop harshly, making you wince at the sound, “To make up with you.” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Right, now what’s the real reason,” you laughed, not expecting the look of genuine confusion that graced his features, eyebrows furrowed and gaze searching yours. 

“Huh? That was my real reason.” 

Lips parting, your grip tightened on the countertop behind your hips. 

You sighed, trying to ignore how your chest had started to feel warm, your ears practically burning as you averted your gaze. 

“You’re so stupid,” was all you managed to utter out before you were greeted by the sound of his laughter. 

“I heard you needed help with your physics paper,” he gave you a knowing look. He always helped you study physics, and though a part of you was still a little annoyed at him, you weren’t sure if you were feeling petty enough to put yourself up for failure for your test tomorrow. 

Nodding, you hated the way a smile played on your lips as you began to walk into the living room, “You don’t need your textbook, right?”

You could picture the smile on his face without having to face him.

“Nope. Let’s get to work.” 

And just like that, it almost felt like things were how you were always used to it. Yoonoh doing his best to explain different problems to you and threatening to give up ever so often if you refused to focus even though you knew he wouldn’t really give up. Just like how you were used to. 

It was one of the rare moments where time seemed to slow down, and just for a second, all you both had to focus on was physics and each other, the simplicity of the situation feeling so rare that you both couldn’t help but feel relieved.In that simple moment, as you begged for a break while Yoonoh insisted that you finish the last problem before you could reward yourself with an episode of Money Heist, he didn’t have to think about Rina, or think about basketball, or even about Sicheng’s birthday party next week.

It was just you, sitting before him, the stupid pleading look on your face that Yoonoh couldn’t ever refuse and the grounding feeling as though he was home. He didn’t have to ask himself why he was simultaneously feeling as though the world was crashing down on him as a feeling of immense realisation had overwhelmed him, his smile disappearing and his eyes glazing over. The same feeling that overwhelmed him at the party almost intensifying now. 

You were too busy trying to shove your textbooks further away from you to recognize that same look taking over his features, once again.  

That was when Yoonoh knew he was done for. He needed to break up with Rina. 

Yoonoh glanced at the time. 2:22am. 

“Honestly, I think we can call it a night. I’m really tired,” you sighed, reaching for the remote and jumping slightly with how abruptly Yoonoh had stood up. 

“Uh… I think you should just carry on without me, I just realised I was uh… I was supposed to take care of something. I’ll text you if I’m coming back, but don’t wait up for me just… reward yourself. You deserve it,” his words came out choppy, unnaturally, almost as if he were being pulled in the opposite direction and was forcing himself to stay just to get those words out to you. 

You gave him a curious look, eyebrows furrowed but still somewhat amused. You didn’t think much of it, since he was prone to being forgetful especially when he was stressed. So you shook your head in dismissal, waving him off. 

“It’s okay, just go. Call me if you need anything,” you told him, Yoonoh giving you one last smile before practically running out of your house. 

He texted Rina, asking where she was, but she hadn’t replied, so he figured she was still busy with the party. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so he continued on his way. 

What he hadn’t expected, though, was to be met with a quiet house, her parents’ car nowhere to be seen, and especially not the sight of John Seo making out with his girlfriend in her bedroom. 

The door swung open after knocking, scaring Rina with a yelp as she flung her hands away from his face as if she were scalded. John Seo, on the other hand, only looked amused. Squinting at first at Jaehyun’s silhouette in the dim light, he glanced between Rina’s look of pure horror as she pulled her shirt down haphazardly and Jaehyun’s face of shock as he stood frozen in the doorway. 

John Seo’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ in understanding, a hum leaving him. 

“Right. So this must be your ‘Valentine boy’ then, right love?” he drawled, getting off the bed calmly as he fixed his beanie, picking his phone up from her bed and giving her a nonchalant wave, even patting Jaehyun on the back as he strolled past him. 

“Good luck, dude,” his words lingered in Jaehyun’s head with a sour aftertaste, shutting the door behind them as nothing else was heard other than Johnny’s footsteps padding down the stairs and the final thud of the front door closing. 

Rina was seated at the edge of her bed now, guilt-stricken eyes glancing at Jaehyun nervously, her hands fiddling with her shirt as Jaehyun tried to place the emotion he was feeling. 

Why didn’t he feel angry at her? Why was it that even as he looked at her right now, he felt detached? It was as if he were watching a scene from a movie instead of watching his girlfriend sit on her bed after catching her cheating on him. 

“Jay, I can explain,” she began, a slight tremor in her voice as she searched his blank expression for any sign of emotion, “… I’m sorry, I really meant to tell you as soon as it started happening but I just… couldn’t.” 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why?” 

His tone was gentle, something Rina found even more scathing. She wished he would be angry at her, to yell, or tell her she hurt him. His gentleness was just making her feel even worse. 

“I… I didn’t want my parents to know… I mean, you were the best thing that happened for our relationship. Ever since I got together with you it’s like… they treat me differently, they treat me like I’m finally doing something right, you know?... I’m sorry it meant I had to keep using you but I couldn’t let things go back to how they were.” 

“They would never have accepted Johnny… not like how they accept you.” 

Jaehyun sighed. She was in love with John Seo. He could tell that much. 

He was starting to come to his senses now, and his anger was starting to creep in. He was angry that she lied to him, of course, strung him along for so long just for her personal gain. But more than that, he was relieved. Relieved that he could finally stop trying to revive something that had died long ago.  

“I’m sorry, Jay. I know I shouldn’t have done that. I know it’s not right for me to ask you this but I really really just need a little more time. Just a little time so I can think of how to tell my parents that we broke up. Just… at least until graduation, please.” 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed, features pulling into a frown. 

“So, what? Like… keep up appearances till graduation?” he murmured. He couldn’t find it in him to be angry at her now. Looking at her expression, hearing the desperation in her voice, he just felt bad for her. 

Rina nodded desperately, wanting to get up from the bed but feeling too guilty to make another move towards him, tears pricking at her eyes. 

“Please, Jay. Just a few weeks more, that’s the last thing I'll ask you to do for me. Then we can just go our separate ways, I won’t have anything to do with you after that. I just need some time to settle things, and I’ll tell them after graduation before I go off to college. I won’t mess with your basketball scholarship or anything, seriously. I just need you to do this last thing for me.” 

Jaehyun wasn’t sure how much time passed before he nodded. He was sitting on her bedroom floor now, gaze fixed on the vape pen sitting on the carpet next to her bed that he was sure belonged to Johnny. 

“Just until graduation,” he confirmed, earning a vigorous nod from her. 

“Yes. Graduation. After that, no more,” she replied in short bursts, withholding her desperation as much as she could (though Jaehyun couldn’t really find it in himself to hold it against her at this point). 

“What… what are you gonna tell your parents?” he asked, getting up from the floor slowly and making his way over to her, sitting on her bed next to her and resting his hands on his lap. 

Rina sighed, shaking her head. 

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure something out, I guess.” 

Another silence ensued, something about the room feeling awfully comfortable despite the context of the situation. Jaehyun could smell Johnny’s cologne faintly off of her, surprising himself at the feeling of resignation that coursed slowly within him. 

“You know… people always say that your first breakup always feels like it’s gonna be the end of the world... “ he began, seeing her nod as he continued, “Why don’t we feel like that?” 

Rina looked up from her hands, meeting his gaze with a certain resignation in her gaze. 

“... maybe because we fell in love with other people before we could really reach the point of loving each other.” 

Jaehyun’s eyebrows raised slightly, “We?” 

Rina scoffed, nodding seriously, “I’m sure you know you’re in love too. Just… not with me.” 

Rina was right. He was pretty sure he realised just half an hour ago. 

=== 

Sicheng’s birthday party was no less painful. A week before graduation, Jaehyun thought that pretending to be with Rina would be easy now that he knew what their relationship really was for the past six months, but he hadn’t expected it to be so painful. 

Maybe the cause of his pain was the realisation that he’d gotten so caught up in trying to fit himself into this mold that people expected him to be that was making him frustrated, or maybe it was the fact that he was realising now just how much sanity your presence brought him through all of that and how much he took advantage of that. Maybe it was the realisation that came in a little later that you may not feel the same way about him that was stressing him out, or maybe it was the fact that he had to still keep this charade up for another week before he could truly think about what his plan was to tell you how he felt. 

But truly, Jaehyun knew that more than all those things, what felt the worst was looking at you sitting across from him in the bowling alley and knowing that he couldn’t make it too obvious that he wished it wasn’t Rina that was linking arms with him.  

His thumb brushed over his lower lip as he pretended to be interested in his conversation with the guy from the basketball team next to him, a junior that assumed Jaehyun’s word had any weight in deciding who the next team captain was. 

“Honestly, dude. Your life is everything I wish my high school life would be like,” the junior gushed, “you’ve got a hot girlfriend, the whole school loves you, even your grades—” 

“None of that means anything,” Jaehyun murmured distractedly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he watched you bowl another gutter ball, pretending you didn’t see it as you walked back to your seat and shoved Sicheng for teasing you. 

“Huh?” 

Jaehyun met the boy’s gaze, wishing he could say a million things to this junior now before he could spend the rest of his years in high school trying to figure out what Jaehyun had only figured out now. That none of that—popularity, attention, adoration, could ever come close to the feeling of knowing someone cared about you and loved you even without all of that. 

“Nothing,” Jaehyun forced a smile, reaching over to pick up the ipad when he saw you going up for your turn to bowl again, unaware of his actions as he put the bumpers up for you, earning many shouts of protest and curious glances. 

“You’re so obvious,” he heard Rina whisper lowly to him, and you wondered what she’d said to him for his ears to go red the way they did. 

Jaehyun had simply shook his head at you, a lazy smile on his face as he mouthed a ‘its okay just bowl’ to you. 

The junior had left to talk to someone else, and Jaehyun had wanted nothing more than to go over to you and spend the party with you, but he knew Rina was right. He was too obvious, especially so now that he knew how he felt towards you. It was almost embarrassing how his gaze couldn’t help but follow you even when nothing was happening. 

It seemed impossible, the idea that you would see him that way. Yet, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. 

You had your suspicions when he hadn’t offered to send Rina home, offering to take you home instead. But you dismissed your suspicions quickly, not wanting to paint more pictures in your head that would bring you back to that same dangerous feeling that you harbored for him. 

You felt selfish, almost, for having these feelings and keeping them to yourself. Especially as you found yourself sitting on the curb outside your house with Yoonoh after a long wordless walk home. 

“What did you get Sicheng?” he finally asked, earning a hum from you.

“Got him a hoodie. You?” 

“Basketball shoes,” he yawned, leaning forward to rest his cheek on his knee, looking at you with tired eyes.

You tilted your head at him to mirror him, finding his silence suspicious. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, earning a smile from him. 

Yoonoh nodded, his voice just barely a murmur, “I’m fine, angel.” 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” was all you managed to murmur, earning an eye roll from Yoonoh. 

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged, a teasing lilt to his tone, “The image suits you so well. Way better than innkeeper number two.” 

You scoffed, “It’s not because of that.” 

“Then why do you hate me calling you that so much? You never minded until recently,” he let out a huff of laughter, interlocking his fingers around his shin. 

You averted your gaze, “it just… it sounds too… too lovey dovey,” you shrugged. 

Yoonoh eyed your expression carefully. 

“I’m not allowed to love you?” His tone was gentle, but the implication behind his words was too heavy to ignore. 

You didn’t answer him. You didn’t have an answer for him. So you settled for shrugging. 

“Rina’s parents have a charity event in a few weeks, right? Are you gonna go?” 

Yoonoh hummed, “I’m surprised you remembered, even I forgot about that.”

You huffed. It was like you were forcing yourself to keep up to date with these things, just so you wouldn’t be too disappointed if Yoonoh had to bail on your plans together. You understood the networks that Rina’s circle could open up for him. 

“How could I forget? It’s on the same day as prom.” 

Yoonoh nodded, shifting his hands so they were shoved into the pockets of his jacket, cheek squished against his knee in a way that looked as though it would definitely leave a red mark on his cheek afterwards. 

“We agreed that we wouldn’t go for the charity event, you know, since it’s not like we graduate every year.” 

“So you’ll be going for prom?” 

Yoonoh smiled, “Why do you sound so excited? Hoping you’ll be voted prom queen?” he teased, earning an eye roll from you. 

“Shut up. Everyone knows it’s gonna be you and Rina.” 

Yoonoh let out a grunt. 

“Doesn’t matter. Not like it’s real anyway,” he was quick to reply, his comment making you frown. 

“Huh?” 

“Nothing.” 

Yoonoh surprised you when he stood up first, holding a hand out for you to take, “You should head in, it’s late.” 

Letting him help you up, you were almost hyper aware that he hadn’t let go of your hand yet. 

You were about to call his name to get his attention when he’d tugged your hand ever so softly, stepped forward and wrapped his arms so cautiously around you in a hug, seconds ticking by before he’d let his head rest against yours slightly. It felt familiar. No hidden meanings, no words unsaid, just… comfort. 

“What are you doing?” you murmured. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, “do you want me to let go?” 

He didn’t have to say more, but you could hear the silent question of ‘I’m not allowed to hug you?’ 

“... not yet,” you murmured. There it was, your silent answer to his silent question. 

You loved him like a best friend, that was clear to you at that moment. And like much more, you realised as you lay in bed drifting off to sleep later on. 

=== 

You hadn’t seen Yoonoh all night. You’d been here for hours but you hadn’t seen him anywhere. You’d asked around, but they all hadn’t seemed to see him either. Even his phone seemed to be on do not disturb. You hoped looking out for Rina would help you find him faster but it seemed that she was nowhere to be seen either. 

Frankly, you were a little tired of waiting, and the gym was starting to feel way too stuffy for you to be able to sit through more wordless techno songs and the occasional slow dance ed sheeran song that left you feeling uncomfortably present. Figuring you’d might as well get some fresh air, you decided to head out of the gym, wandering around the school and trying to find a toilet that wasn’t locked or undergoing cleaning. 

It was safe to say that search wasn’t very fruitful either, and by the time you’d searched 2 floors, your bladder was about to burst and you didn’t think you had any patience left in you to find another toilet. 

Spotting the nearest one that had a ‘cleaning-in-progress’ sign outside, you’d ignored the sigh and brisk-walked in, oblivious to your surroundings as you emptied your bladder with a sigh. It was only when you were washing your hands that you realised the sniffling sound in the toilet wasn’t coming from you. 

People cried in the toilet all the time, you told yourself, about to leave when you heard a retching sound. Okay, whoever was in that toilet was definitely puking their guts out. 

“Hey… uh… are you okay in there?” you called out, making your way over to the toilet stall, knocking but finding the door giving way under your knuckles. Whoever was inside must’ve been in a rush to have left the door unlocked. But at the sight of the expensive handbag hanging from the little hook on the door, you recognized them quickly. 

“... Rina?” 

You acted before thinking further, moving forward and helping her to hold her hair away from her face, using your fortunately oversized prom ticket to fan her. 

After calming down slightly, Rina slumped down onto the floor, leaning against the wall of the cubicle as she stared at you blankly. 

“Well, isn’t it ironic that you’re helping me, of all people?” 

You frowned, tilting your head at her in confusion, “Do you like… want me to leave or someth—”

“No, no! Sorry, I didn’t mean that… please, stay here with me,” she sighed, not seeming to have any energy in her to even keep her eyes open, letting them flutter shut with a small groan. 

“I think I drank too much… should’ve known the punch was spiked,” she sighed, “did uh… did Jaehyun tell you to find me?” 

You shook your head slowly, realising she couldn’t see you. 

“No, I didn’t see him for the whole night, actually… I just came here to pee,” you explained, seeing her huff, pursing her lips. 

You wondered how she still managed to look pretty even as her cheeks were flushed, her makeup was running and her hair was sticking to her skin.

“That’s probably my fault… he was mad that he had to keep pretending we were together.” 

Your shock got the better of you with the surprised sound that left you. 

Her eyes opened just slightly so she could frown at you, “he didn’t tell you?” 

Your silence was enough of an answer for her. 

“Well now I feel even more like shit. He was trying so hard to keep the secret for me that he didn’t even tell you. And God knows he tells you everything.” 

You pressed your lips into a firm line, brushing her hair away from her face. You didn’t miss how the action made her lips part in shock, as if she hadn’t expected you to do that. 

“He hasn’t actually… not since you told him you weren’t comfortable with it.” 

“Honestly, that’s most of the reason why he was mad at me… he said he didn’t want to keep lying to you.”

She sighed, “he’s so considerate, seriously,” she grunted, finally having mustered enough energy to look at you, a deep sigh leaving her. 

“You know… I always liked the fantasy of the whole ‘high school sweetheart’ thing… like, you know, the kind of thing so cliché it makes you think of Troy and Gabriella…” 

You nodded slowly, “Uh-huh…” you prompted, unsure why she decided to tell you this now of all times. You couldn’t help but think of Yoonoh, High School Musical was one of his desert island movies. 

“I know you’re probably wondering why I'm telling you this but… I guess it’s cause it took me way too long to realise that maybe Jay was the Troy that everyone wanted, and even though he was so perfect, so faultless in my parents’ eyes, even though he made me seem a million times better than I actually was… I didn’t want that.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“I thought it was better for me, you know what I mean? Be with someone safe, someone who cared for me and would put up with me. But then I met Johnny… and I realised that he was what I wanted,” she frowned, “he was confident, he didn’t care what people thought of him, he didn’t treat me like my parents’ daughter…” 

She sighed, turning to you, laughing at your wide-eyed expression. 

“I bet you think i’m some kind of whore right—”

“No, no—”

“It’s okay, I get it. You know, like… the ‘bad guy’... and I do feel like shit for stringing Jay along like that but… I don’t know, Y/N. Is it so horrible of me? To just want to feel wanted? Even if it’s only for a moment… even if I know Johnny doesn’t genuinely want me…” her eyes had started to well up with tears, causing her to blink harshly. 

“Is it so bad to just let myself pretend for a second?.... I’m always pretending in some way, right? Is it so bad if just one out of those million times, I'm pretending for something that makes me feel genuinely happy?” 

Your frown deepened. Sitting in front of you in the disgusting toilet cubicle on a Saturday night wasn’t the poised, perfect head cheerleader Rina, but simply… a girl who was in love with someone who was breaking her heart. 

“I’m not like… condoning cheating or anything but…” you shook your head, “you can’t control these things. It’s not your fault for feeling what you feel.” 

Rina gave you a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“I’m sorry for hurting Jay. And i’m sorry for using your friendship with him as leverage… and I’m sorry that…” she sighed, “I couldn’t see him for who he was and saw him for what he could do for me… you know, especially when all this time he had someone who did,” she gestured weakly to you. 

You frowned, rubbing the back of her hand in soothing patterns, making her let out a huff. 

“Even now, you’re being nice to me. Even when I was anything but nice to your best friend.” 

You shook your head, “It’s okay. No one’s forcing me to do it… I’m doing this because I want to.” 

Eyeing her carefully, you saw her suck in a shaky breath, releasing another deep sigh. 

“He loves you, you know?” she murmured. 

“Huh?” You almost thought you misheard her.

“It sounds cliché, I know. But seriously, he probably doesn’t realise it yet… but he does.” 

Your lips parted, not seeming to register her words, letting them sit in your head even as you stood up, offering to take her home. 

For some reason, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry at her either. If anything, you understood how frustrated she must have felt. Everyone always makes love seem so straightforward, so epiphany-like. They don’t ever mention that sometimes it feels like trying to stop a train with your bare feet. 

So you spent your prom in the last way you’d expected to, sitting in the back of a hired car with Rina’s head on your shoulder with a 2000s throwback song playing on the radio. 

“Y/N,” she caught your attention before she’d shut the car door, her jacket bundled up in her arms messily. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” 

You gave her a small smile, nodding at her in reassurance. 

“Rest well, Rina.” 

===

“Dude, it’s just a ‘merry christmas’ letter, how hard can it be—” Sicheng stopped himself when he finished reading whatever Jaehyun scribbled in pencil on the acknowledgements page of his textbook. 

“Oh.” 

Jaehyun sighed, burying his head in his hands, the neck of his basketball jersey almost choking him as he leaned forward, not having realised he was sitting on the back of his jersey. 

Tugging his collar forward to pull the hem of his shirt out from under his butt, he glared at Sicheng, who was fiddling with his new basketball shoes and tying a butterfly knot with the shoelaces absently.

“I told you, I’m only good at writing critique papers.” 

Sicheng snorted, “Explains why your note sounds like a roast of the year’s events.” 

Jaehyun sighed. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know why you’re rushing, you don’t even know if she’s gonna be here tonight,” Sicheng shrugged. 

Giving him a skeptical look, Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed, “She said she’d be here.” 

“And? That was like a month ago,” Sicheng insisted, “long before she found out about you and Rina’s whole secret breakup fake dating bullshit—”

“Fine, fine. Whatever. But it’s a tradition… I don’t think she’d just… ditch,” his voice turned into a murmur, as if he were trying to console himself more than defend himself to Sicheng. 

Sicheng sighed as Jaehyun resumed his fidgeting with his pencil. 

“I think you’re thinking too much,” Sicheng shrugged, rolling the basketball around between his outstretched legs, “It’s not like she’s gonna grade it and give it back to you. Just write what you wanna say.” 

Nodding resolutely, Jaehyun continued working on his merry christmas note to you, just managing to shove it as neatly as he could into the present he got you as the thick panelled doors opened and his coach had entered. 

He’ll focus on the game, and pass you the gift afterwards (if you came). Simple. Or simple enough. 

He was trying to manage his expectations, really. But he couldn’t stop himself from searching the crowd every 10 seconds just to see if he could spot you. Like a very difficult level of where’s waldo where waldo may not even be in the picture. 

Honestly, you were dressed and ready an hour before the game, busy staring at the note you’d written Yoonoh that you had yet to seal into an envelope. You couldn’t decide if you should rewrite it. 

You’d written it while riding on an adrenaline rush the previous night, feeling like your energy vibrations were all too high as you listened to your playlist. But now, as you sat in your room, almost as if you were sobered by the silence, you couldn’t help but wince each time you re-read your letter. 

Especially the sign off, a ‘from your angel’ written shamelessly at the bottom of the card. 

You shook your head, pulling out another card and rewriting the letter, signing off with your name instead. 

It was safe… ish. You couldn’t decide if you wanted Jaehyun to take your words at surface level or to read into them and decipher how you truly felt. You knew this would probably be the last time you would see him before all of your scholarship interviews next week and his pre-orientation programme. Might as well use it as an opportunity to be honest and use the week to hide, right?  

Shaking your head, you shoved the wrapped present into your bag, sparing a quick glance at the time and grimacing. You were already late for the game. 

Jogging around your house in search of your shoes, you heard your mom call from the living room, “Aren’t you late for the game already?” 

Huffing, you haphazardly shoved your shoes on. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m leaving,” you said, bidding her goodbye and beginning your brisk-walk(and borderline jog) to the stadium. 

You’d just reached barely a minute into halftime, all you could hear was cheering for the cheerleaders who’d already started their routine, Yoonoh and the rest of the team nowhere to be found. 

Fortunately for you, there was a seat in the back row, far enough that you could see the full length of the court easily. 

Watching as the team had come out onto the court again, you scanned the area for Yoonoh, spotting his number 2 Jersey. He was scanning the crowd, hand gripping onto the hem of his shirt loosely as his gaze flickered around the different faces, eventually meeting yours. 

The smile that adorned his face was unlike you’d ever seen before, or maybe, unlike you’d ever seen in a long time. 

Why was he smiling? He wasn’t too sure. Maybe it was the reassurance your presence brought him; the idea that you, the only person in this stadium that truly knew him, was still willing to be here to support him. 

Sicheng could only laugh at the way Yoonoh’s focus heightened, scoring goals with as much ease as it took him to breathe. Though the competitors were fairly similar in ability, It was only a matter of time before the team was thirty points ahead, starting the running clock. 

You didn’t know much about basketball, but you knew enough to know this meant the game could be ending soon. 

You couldn’t help but get distracted halfway, your hand going into your backpack to fiddle with the wrapped present sitting patiently in between your stuff. You were the opposite, however, impatiently waiting for when you could give the present to him and have the weight lifted off your shoulders. 

You’d barely noticed the game ending until you were drawn back to the present sound of whistling, the deafening buzzer sound and yelling from all around you. Yoonoh, sweaty and flushed, had been too busy running over to his duffel bag to celebrate with his team. Frowning at the thought of what could’ve happened, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. 

yoonoh 9:39pm -don’t leave yet. let’s go home together- 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you replied simply, picking your bag up and leaving the stadium, trying your best to be inconspicuous as you waited at the parking lot. 

“Did you hear? Jaehyun and Rina broke up! Didn’t you see how he barely looked at her the entire game?” you stumbled slightly as someone walked past you, bumping your shoulder. You apologized, but wished you could take it back after realising what their topic of conversation was. 

“He doesn’t usually look at her, though,” the girl that bumped your shoulder had replied, “he’s always too busy looking at the crowd.” 

“He does seem like the type to care more about his popularity.” 

You frowned, thankful they’d gotten far enough that you wouldn’t have to listen to the rest of their conversation. 

It was only minutes later when you felt a sudden pressure on the back of your knee that made your leg give way, almost stumbling before you felt a hand holding you steady, the familiar sound of Yoonoh’s laughter resounding next to you. 

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” he gave you a sheepish smile, letting go of your arm and beginning to walk ahead of you, hands shoved leisurely into the pockets of his hoodie, the hood draped over his head. 

“Aren’t you coming?” his eyebrows raised in question when he realised you hadn’t followed next to him. 

“Oh, no, yeah. Right,” you shook your head, jogging until you were walking side by side, hearing him sigh. 

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asked, earning a shake of the head from you. 

“Nice, me too. We can order in tonight,” he suggested, and you nodded, tearing your hand away from your bag so you could stop trying to feel the outline of his present through the worn out material. 

“You were great just now... “ you murmured, “I know I didn’t see the first half but like, you know what I mean. The second half was good.” 

You were nervous, and Yoonoh could tell that much. It was the first time you were talking to him after prom. He knew that you knew about what happened, and he knew you probably thought he was insane for pretending nothing had happened. But you both knew each other well enough to know that you were both stalling. 

Pulling out your phone, you continued to stall by pretending to be busy with ordering food, trying to ignore the way he was humming along to ‘it’s nice to have a friend’ (of all songs). 

“Ordered,” you murmured a little louder than you intended, dropping your phone back into your bag, seeing him nod at you. 

You were already walking into your driveway, past the shrubbery and into your garden as Yoonoh made a beeline for the treehouse. 

Dumping his things on the carpet, he’d sat himself awkwardly next to the beanbag, leaning on it yet not quite at the same time. 

Sitting yourself down a little further away from him, you missed the way he’d frowned at the distance between the both of you, inching forward almost unconsciously to close a little bit of that distance. 

“Heard you got your acceptance letter already,” Yoonoh began, continuing when he saw the surprise on your face, “my parents told me.” 

You nodded in understanding, forcing yourself to stop averting your gaze, “your scholarship interviews are next week, right?” 

Yoonoh nodded. 

“Guess things are more or less falling into place, right?” he huffed, earning a hum from you. 

“Our schools aren’t that far from each other… and plus, Sicheng’s going to the same school as me,” you weren’t sure why you felt the need to reassure him. Then again, maybe it was more for yourself too. 

A teasing smile made its way onto Yoonoh’s features, “Should I be worried?” 

“Worried?” you couldn’t help but huff in amusement, “What? That I’ll fall in love with Sicheng and ruin your ten year plan?” 

Yoonoh grinned, “Precisely that.” 

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head, your smile lingering on your face when you’d said your next words. 

“You have nothing to worry about, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Good.” 

A tense silence had ensued, and you thanked the universe for the notification you got that your food was arriving, using that chance to escape from the atmosphere in the treehouse as you collected the food. 

Going back up to the treehouse, you ignored the thumping of your heart (blaming it on how quickly you’d ran to the driveway), especially the way it intensified when you saw Yoonoh simply sitting there, staring at nothing in particular. 

Eating your food in silence, you put on some music in an attempt to relieve some of the tension, but it seemed your playlist wasn’t quite cooperating with you today. Every song seemed to make you feel as though the tension in the room was amplified. You skipped the song quickly when you heard ‘dress’ come on.

“Why don’t we go without the music tonight,” Yoonoh blurted, reaching over to pause your playlist with his pinky finger. 

“Yeah, I think that’s better,” you spoke quickly, letting the sound of the cicadas outside and the low humming of your neighbour’s air conditioning fill the silence. 

“So… we’re kind of done with high school, if you think about it,” he murmured, taking a slow bite of his food, searching your face for a reaction. 

You nodded, eyebrows raising, “... Yeah, we are.”

You felt as though he were waiting for you to say something, but couldn’t figure it out for the life of you. You couldn’t help it, Rina’s words from that day were still lingering in your head and clouding any possible rational thought within you. 

“Are you like… okay?” you dared yourself to ask, seeing Yoonoh’s features pull into a confused frown. 

“Uh.. depends on what you’re referring to, honestly,” he admitted. This was good, this was a start. Less stalling. 

“I mean… that people are talking about you and Rina’s… breakup?” 

Yoonoh’s mouth formed an ‘o’ in realisation, shrugging, “I mean, yeah. I kind of expected it, but I guess it’s only normal? That they’re coming up with their own backstories based on what they think about us.” 

“Us?” you blurted, wincing. 

Yoonoh nodded, “Rina and I, I mean.” 

“How… How long has it been since you guys broke up?” you asked, not having expected him to answer so quickly. 

“We broke up a week before Sicheng’s party… so it’s almost been a month.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“How do you feel?” you asked, seeing him raise his eyebrows at you. 

“I’m… okay?” 

You frowned in disbelief, “Really?” 

He nodded slowly, bringing his drink up to his lips to take a sip, eyeing you curiously, “Uh-huh…”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you hummed, “Are you sure—?”

“What are you doing?” he laughed, your eyes widening. 

Your lips parting and shutting, you struggled to find your words, “I mean, I don’t know, I just wanted to know how you were coping,” you shrugged. 

It wasn’t like you wanted to question him, you just felt like it was too good to be true. 

Yoonoh scrunched his nose up, a soft smile on his lips, “Really? ‘Cause it sounds like you’re expecting me to break down or something. Seriously, Y/N, if you want to know how I’m honestly feeling—”

“Yeah I do.” 

“—I’m relieved.” 

Your lips parted in shock, unsure what to infer from his choice of words. You could feel what was akin to frustration bubbling within you. You hated the tension between you and Yoonoh now and you were desperate to put an end to it.

“Relieved?”

Yoonoh nodded seriously, “Relieved.” 

You purse your lips, nodding slowly, shaking your head as you were about to speak, Yoonoh speaking up before you could. 

“Sorry, I’m kind of not used to it… you know, going from having to filter myself around you for Rina’s sake to suddenly knowing that I can tell you everything I wanted to tell you. But there’s too many things that I have no idea where to start.” 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, as if that was a reminder to you as well, that it wasn’t as if you needed to filter yourself around Yoonoh, and this time wasn’t any different. 

Not being able to stop the smile from your face, you nodded resolutely. 

“We’ll start from the basics, then. How was your day?” 

Yoonoh was practically beaming. 

And just like that, it was as if you’d gotten back into the rhythm of things. Though they weren’t entirely the same as before, it was familiar. Though you and Yoonoh had grown, there was still love and familiarity in both your eyes, in your inside jokes, in your witty quips as you talked. 

“I have something to pass you actually,” he admitted only after you mentioned that you might call it an early night because you were tired.

Humming, you huffed, almost forgetting about the present in your bag you were previously too hyper aware of to focus on anything else.  

“Me too… like an early Christmas present.” 

Yoonoh’s eyebrows raised, eyes widening slightly. 

“Guess we had the same idea,” he laughed. 

“How bout… we exchange it on three so it's not so awkward,” he suggested, earning an eye roll from you. 

“You know it’s still gonna be awkward.” 

“Fine, but at least it’ll be cute,” he shrugged, making you shake your head, moving over to pull the wrapped present from your bag anyway, the little envelope containing your note making you scrunch your nose up in distaste. 

As if he read your mind, he spoke up, “Don’t read it now, by the way. I poured my soul out into that note… it’d be better if you read it when I’m not here.” 

You snorted, “I was about to say the same thing.” 

Grinning , you counted to three, shoving the presents forward at each other and bursting into laughter at the awkward nature of the gesture, shoving your presents into your bags quickly. 

“Okay, you’re free to leave now,” he gestured to the door. 

You scoffed, “kicking me out of my own treehouse?” 

He nodded. 

“I think I’ll stay here for a while before heading back… the stars are really nice right now.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, nodding.

“Okay. G’night, then.” 

Yoonoh smiled, the hum of his voice to the familiar tune of starlight almost making you reluctant to leave. 

“Sweet dreams, angel,” he smiled, tracing patterns with the stars in the sky in his head. 

Once again, Yoonoh found himself sitting up once you were gone, letting his gaze follow you as you walked across the garden towards your house, he waited until he saw the warm orange light glowing from your window. 

Training his gaze back towards the deep blue of the sky, Yoonoh found that even though there were a million thoughts in his mind begging to be entertained, even though his mind was filled with uncertainty about the future, or even about the next week alone, the warm glowing light from your window reminded him that he wasn’t going to have to deal with that alone, and he felt okay. 

=== 

Yoonoh turned his head, looking at you lying next to him from where he lay, reaching out his hand to touch the side of your face, the smile you gave him enough to send bouts of happiness coursing through him. The feeling of your shoulder on his chest was real enough to make him wonder if he was experiencing déjà vu. 

“Is that a new shirt?” your voice was clear as day, the lilt to your tone almost distracting Yoonoh from registering what you asked him. 

“Huh?” he heard himself reply. 

“I think I bought you that shirt,” you hummed, turning around and wrapping your arms around his torso as if it was the most natural thing to do. About to return the gesture, Yoonoh heard the cracking sound of thunder, feeling himself jolt awake. 

It was raining heavily outside his window, the darkness of his room and the absence of anything but his blanket wrapped around his torso dragging him harshly back to reality. He mentally cursed the thunder for not being able to wait another five seconds at least. 

His eyes flickered to the wrapped present sitting on his bedside table. 

He’d been too busy this week to find time to read your note yet, especially so because he was growing more and more anxious about why you weren’t contacting him if you’d already opened his present and read his note. 

Yoonoh glanced at the time. It was 6:37pm. He remembered his dad vaguely mentioning that both him and his mom would be working overtime, telling him to settle his own dinner once he woke up from his nap. 

Sighing, Yoonoh got out of bed, deciding to take a shower first just to stall time before he decided to properly settle down and open your present. 

Once he was done, he walked over to his bed, one hand lazily towel-drying his hair as his other hand continued to stall for time, sending you a text. 

7:00pm - parents have abandoned me at home… what should i eat for dinner?- 

Waiting for your reply, he tossed his phone aside, picking up the wrapped present from his bedside table, ripping the wrapping paper off to reveal a hardcover copy of ‘the courage to be disliked’ the title making Yoonoh huff in amusement. 

Setting the book aside, he picked up the plain envelope, tearing it open and pulling the note out (almost giving himself a papercut in the process), beginning to read the note. 

‘Dear Yoonoh, 

don’t laugh when you see the book title. I didn’t read it so i don’t actually know if it’s any good, but i read the synopsis and figured you’d be into stuff like this so i bought it for you. maybe you can read it and tell me if its any good. god knows when was the last time you read something other than required reading… 

you don’t have to tell me explicitly for me to know this year was tough for you. i don’t think you realise it, but i can say this because i witnessed it, and i think you needed a little reminder that it’s okay. it’s okay to want to do well, it’s okay if you don't, it’s okay to want to secure your future, and it’s okay if you want to go with the flow. it’s definitely okay if you want to make plans, and it's okay for these plans to fall apart. I'm proud of you, anyway, because you still tried your best to be loving through all of it (even though i had to be the one reminding you at times). 

I’m just glad you haven’t let yourself stop dreaming all these extravagant, impossible-seeming dreams. Like that thing about us working and me having that bookstore and all. and how you said we’d still manage to find each other at the end of it all. I hope that part doesn’t seem impossible to you, even if it does to me at times. 

But like you said, what are dreams if not meant to be dreamt, right? 

Merry Christmas (or not, depending on when you stop procrastinating opening this), see you soon. 

from, Y/N.’ 

Yoonoh wasn’t sure if he was breathing, it was as if his whole body was just filled with relief that it didn’t feel like his body anymore. 

Little did he know you were the same, riding on this feeling of relief as you ran to his house through the drizzle, overcome by some sort of reckless impulsivity that made you feel as if all you wanted was to see him without waiting a minute longer. 

All that resounded in your mind over and over again was the words in his note, bits of it floating around and taking turns to supply you with that giddy careless feeling. 

‘to: my angel’ 

You felt the drizzle intensify, making your hood feel heavy over your head and the skin of your face feel cold as the wind blew the droplets against your face as you picked up your pace. 

'i wont ask anything of you, i know i put you through enough and i'm sorry for that. but just know that i'm here for you like how you've been here for me all this time. and in ten years, twenty years, forever, i hope that's where i can remain.

You stumbled on the slippery driveway as you let your hands stop your momentum against his front door, knocking firmly as you fought to catch your breath. 

One small thing, though. You had no idea what you were going to say. 

Realisation sunk in when Yoonoh had opened the door, his hair damp like yours. You would have laughed if you weren’t so frozen with nervousness. 

“Hey,” he greeted gently, his voice almost drowned out by the heavy rain beating against his roof. 

Your lips parted, throat feeling dry in spite of everything around you being drenched by the rain. 

“I read your note,” you told him, still feeling breathless as you looked at him, the blank look on his face somehow heightening your urge to blurt out whatever you came here to tell him. 

“I don’t know why I came here… I kind of just,” you shook your head, shrugging, “I came here because after I read your note I just needed to come here and… see you. And I don’t know why. I just needed to make sure you knew that I wanted that too, you know, what you said in your letter.”

Yoonoh’s expression remained blank, his gaze flickering briefly from your eyes to the patterns on your hoodie made by the rain, and very very briefly to your lips that were growing redder the more you bit down anxiously on them. 

“As friends, best friends,” you sighed, “and more than that, and everything in between.” 

At Yoonoh’s lack of a reply, your adrenaline had started to subside, the cold of the rain and the wind blowing against your face successfully sobering you down, leaving you staring at Yoonoh who looked as though you’d just told him you were moving states. 

You shook your head, instantly regretting coming here, stepping away from the door and mustering a small smile. 

“You know what? Nevermind, this was a bad idea. I think I read too deeply into what you said,” you nodded, already beginning to walk back out into the rain when you felt him tug your hand, stepping towards you and pulling you towards him, knocking your hood off your head as he held the back of your head gently.  

“I took too long to reply, sorry. Just had to make sure this wasn’t another dream,” he smiled, letting his arms wrap around you tighter. Maybe he’d thank the thunder for waking him up, because now he got to hold you in his arms and know it was very much real. 

Pulling away from you just enough so he could cup your face in his hands, he sighed, the stupid smile on his face making you wish you could shut your eyes. 

“I thought that I loved you in a 'I love my best friend’ kind of way like how I love Sicheng but I'm sorry it took me so long to realise that it's already been much more than that for a long time now.” 

“And, you know, just before you came I had a dream that we were just lying next to each other and we literally weren’t doing anything but I wanted to do that for as long as I could,” he continued to ramble, trying to distract himself from the way he wanted nothing more than to kiss you in this moment. 

“I don't know anything,” he laughed, “I don't know what my life's gonna be like in five years and that's okay. I only know how I feel... and how I feel with you is... like myself. I don't know much but I know that that's how I want to feel in five years… and I know you're gonna say something about how ‘we never know how things will change in five years’,” he did an awfully accurate rendition of your voice, “but I don't care. I mean, if we've figured it out this far in our lives, who says we can't keep doing that, right? If you want to... I'd go through all of that- the great parts and the shitty parts and the parts that don't feel real, all of that... with you.”

“Shut up, Yoonoh.” 

His eyes widened in shock, “Hmm?” 

You huffed, “Shut up.” 

“Why?” 

“The more you talk the more I keep looking at your lips and the more I do that the more I want to kiss you,” you rushed through your words in spite of your embarrassment, not being able to filter yourself even if you tried. 

Jaehyun pressed his lips into a firm line, poorly containing his smile, “Well now I don’t want to shut up.” 

“Seriously—” 

“So are you gonna do it?” he leaned closer, his lips just barely centimetres from yours, you could practically feel each word he spoke, “You gonna kiss me or am I just gonna keep talking so that you can keep looking at my li—” 

You stopped him short by moving forward just slightly, but stumbling slightly from the feeling of yourself being pulled forward, followed by the feeling of his lips against yours. 

He’d surprised you when he reached for your hand, bringing it up to place it over his cheek, and you’d let your thumb smooth over his skin, feeling him sigh into the kiss. Strangely enough, there was no urgency behind it, your body somehow feeling warm in spite of the cold. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything else other than the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours, the warmth that radiated from him to you. You barely registered it when he pulled away from you with a giggle. 

“I bet you would’ve shit your pants if I told you five years ago that we would kiss like how they would in a taylor swift song.” 

You rolled your eyes, resting your head against his chest, not being able to help yourself from smiling. The feeling of his hands brushing your hair away from your face, touching your face, smoothing over your arm and coming to rest on your waist. 

Pulling away just slightly, your gaze landed on his shirt, the captain america logo making you smile. You barely noticed it when you arrived. 

“I bought you that shirt, didn’t I?” you grinned, not expecting his eyes to widen. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” you frowned, seeing him shake his head. 

“No, no. It’s just that I had a dream where you said the exact same thing—” 

Your smile grew, the sight of how his eyes lit up only managing to endear you to him, “Okay, how about…” 

“Okay, right, nevermind. It’s stupid, it’s no big deal,” he rushed to dismiss his previous words, making you laugh, eyebrows furrowing slightly. 

“I wasn’t going to say that… I was gonna say why don’t we get some dinner first, and you can tell me all about it?” 

Jaehyun beamed, letting you lead him back into his house. 

=== 

“Dad! You know me and Mary have to kiss?!” seven-year-old Yoonoh’s voice resounded loudly in the recording, his face close to the camera lens and his eyes bright and sparkling with mischief. 

“Is that so?” Yoonoh’s dad laughed.

“No, you don’t! You’re not supposed to kiss anyone!” your (heavily annoyed) voice resounded in the background of the video, Jaehyun turning his head to stick out his tongue at you. 

“No, the innkeeper isn’t supposed to kiss anybody! I have to because I'm married to Mary!” he insisted, making you groan. 

“Uncle! Can you tell Yoonoh he’s wrong!” 

“I’m correct! That’s what Sicheng told me! Mary and Joseph are supposed to kiss so that they can make baby Jesus,” he sing-songed, the recording showing you storming over in your innkeeper costume. 

“They don’t have the baby because they kissed,” you scoffed. 

“Then you explain how it happens, since you’re so smart,” Yoonoh teased, completely unfazed by your annoyance as he grinned at you. 

“It’s the holy spirit you idiot—” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” you paused the video, swiping away from it on his phone, your embarrassment intensifying along with Jaehyun’s laughter. 

“You were so cute,” he gushed, pulling up the video again to rewind it, earning an eye roll from you. 

“And you’re just as annoying,” you huffed, not being able to maintain your annoyance when Yoonoh had leaned over, pressing a loud obnoxious kiss on your cheek, pulling you to rest your head against his chest as you lay on the sofa on top of him. 

It took him long enough, but looking at it now, he was done with senior year, still a ‘three-pointer away’ from college. But maybe... he was exactly where he wanted to be. 

#jung jaehyun #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct aus #nct au #nct scenarios #jaehyun au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #childhood friends to lovers au #coming of age au #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x you #jung yoonoh #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x y/n #nct fluff #nct angst #tswift songs for the neos

[imminent-danger-came]

4x01 “Familiar Tales” Parallels, Because God Won’t Let Me Rest [PART 2]

“Ah, you gotta learn to let that stuff go bud!”

“Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?”

“That pursuit only leads to one thing...

...pain.”

“Know this, monkie, you and I are not so different. We both fight for what we think is right—that pursuit only leads to one thing.

” "Hmmhm. To destiny, right?"

“No. To pain."  

(3x14 “Destiny Fulfilled)

-

“Honestly? I’m kinda liking the world as it is, right now. So...if it could just stay like this, forever? That would be awesome.”

“Yeah well...forever’s a long time bud...trust me.”

“A perfect world is what you make it. So as long as I have my friends by my side...this world! is! perfect!”

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

(2x00  Revenge of the Spider Queen)

-

(3x10 The Samhadi Fire)

-

(3x10 The Samhadi Fire)

-

Hand Motif!

-

(1x09 Macaque)

-

(2x05 Minor Scale)

Better seen here!

-

(1x00 A Hero is Born)

“No turning back!”

(1x01 Bad Weather)

-

[PART 1]

#it's TOTALLY fine that the symbols on the seals are the same #it's. fine. #lmk #lmk parallels #lmk mk #lego monkie kid #lmk swk #lmk sun wukong #monkie kid #lmk season 4 #lmk hand motif

[glamorousruins]

kinda excited to learn more abt ru ngl 👀

!!! I'm glad you're excited to learn about my son :000

Here is the only drawing of him I have finished so far kQJWEH

So here is a small bullet point list of ideas/facts about him!

bisexual Latino king

5'9 ft

hobbies: scrapbooking, bullying kissing Riddle, taking care of his son (Grim), photography, and being hot 25/8

is afraid of thunder/lightning, big dogs, and heights!! (Rip Mallie and Jack...and Kalim............... sorry babes

is intended to be the villain/ antagonist of my AU!

he can understand the spoken language in TWST, but not the written one :')))). So he currently is taking literacy lessons with Riddle after school!!

His motif/ symbol is a broken mirror/mirror shards !!!

17 years

he's a flirt. he rlly is. But on god, the second someone flirts back he bluescreens

he has no significant memory of his past life, he just remembers vague figures and scenes. So he has a scrapbook dedicated to every person he meets! It originally was just a scrapbook dedicated to trying to remember his family members (if he truly has any) but it soon morphed into one for remembering his friends

there is a scrapbook dedicated to his friends because he's scared he might forget them too one day. He does this to remember

he is a fear-driven villain with a savior complex

he's incredibly touch starved and will sometimes hold hands or cuddle with his friends on the more unbearable days (much to his dismay)

Believes that the mirror in Ramshackle, and the Dark Mirror, is the source of all the bad things that have happened to him and this school. He intends to "save" everyone from ever experiencing another bad thing again

tends to get into fights (whether or not he started them is another story)

likes just sitting/laying on the roof of Ramshackle and staring at the sky during the night (it's vv calming)

has a fat ass

Anyways that's just some quick facts kqjwehrhewjk if anyone is interested in a more detailed ramble about him lmk!!! I'd love to scream abt him because I love him

Maybe one day I'll get a proper ref of him done lmao. until then, enjoy this doodle

#save #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twst oc art #twisted wonderland #ruin nonsense #art #anyways here he is #he's just a silly little guy #until he's not and turns evil- #whoops #i think i just rlly like exploring topics and concepts where someone is ultimately forced into a position where they become the villain #because since he was forced into this role of saving the students from overblots #etc #he now thinks that he has to save Everyone #and he's so tired. god he's so tired #tired of everyone's bullshit- #crowley- #the overblots- #etc. he's done #so if he needs to burn down the school to the students from themselves- #then so be it. #it's what he was meant to do- is it not? Why else would he have been dropped in this horrid world #he wasn't a violent guy before this #truly! #but sometimes you have to adapt to your environment and he likes to think that he's simply a product of the world around him #I really wanted to explore the concept of a Yuu who does bad instead of good #because how cool would it be for the main cast to take down the very person who saved their lives on the battlefield? #how angsty would it be to possibly kill the person who gave you a second chance in life? #very interesting if u ask me

[pinkpruneclodwolf]

WAIT WAIT BUT THEN THAT WOULD MEAN THAT EPEL COULD POSSIBLY BE DEMETER BC DEMETER IS THE GODESS OF AGRICULTURE OR SMTHNG!!!!!! SOLIDYFYING THE PARRALELES BETWEEN HIM AND ORTHO!!!!

TBH I feel like Yuu is just their own person or acts as a sort of push to enable their bases (I have a theory about Yuu being "white" like the color and Grim being pure "black" and something about a gray point henceforth Yuu being able to enable their bases to let them "act their part" but lmk if ur interested about that one) but who knows? with the way chapter 6 is turning out I wouldn't be surprised if Yuu's base is revealed or would be hinted as to what it is to us by Yana and would be revealed to us in either chapter 7 or 8 so *shrugs*

As for Ace's UM maybe it would be traps or smthng like that like trickery/illusion/deception and stuff Also as for him being the traitor I highly do not believe that unless Yuu "betrays" him first or maybe a sort of double spy thing IDK man I just want chap 8 already jshskjfhsjf anyways don't be shy pls elaborate on your epiphany and stuff :eyes:

ELABORATE RNNNNNNN

Ommmg this goes fucking stupid ur mind, ur neurons bruh.

Also I agree with you on Ace not being a traitor—more like it might act as foreshadowing to another character pulling the strings.

Ace is said to be very good at picking up things so maybe a master of none type of theme, he is good at sleight of hand!!

Back to Epel tho, Demeter actually has a hand in granting those a blessed after life—due to Hecate being so old and well known she's often associated/conflated with many of the goddesses in the Greek Pantheon including Demeter!!!

Epel UM has to do with life or death at this point bc there's no way he shares that many motifs with life/death

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst theory #@hiraya manwari #scream into the void and i'll answer

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: frost on the frozen ground

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén/Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo

Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Lan Qiren, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing, Fourth Uncle, Jin Zixun

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Bad Uncle Lán Qǐrén, Anxiety, Confrontations, Family, References to Depression, Bunnies, Found Family, Podfic Welcome

Summary: Wei Ying and A-Zhan are still dealing with the fallout weeks after the public arrest of Meng Yao and Jin Guangshan cleared Wei Ying's name, when an uninvited visitor shows up. Second in the moonlight falls corporate spy AU series, inspired by @angstymdzsthoughts.

Notes: See end.

AO3 link

-----------

Wei Ying was exhausted. It wasn’t even a physical sort of exhaustion, but one brought on by the absolute circus the last few weeks had been, following the very public arrest of Lan Xichen’s fiancé for the exact corporate espionage Gusu Lan Tech had accused him of and ruined his life over five years ago. 

Trust Nie Huaisang to somehow convince the FBI to arrest Meng Yao during a major family dinner for the grooms that was well-attended by the media as a sort of social gala, and to also ensure they arrested Jin Guangshan at the same time. He was only the head of Jin Enterprises, so it’s not like it didn’t send that company’s stocks tanking immediately while also humiliating Gusu Lan Tech. 

Nie Huaisang did petty well. 

Wei Ying just wished the aftermath hadn’t meant reporters hounding him and A-Zhan almost constantly, though that wasn’t Huaisang’s fault. At least, that he knew of—his old friend hadn’t reached out, and Wei Ying didn’t know whether to expect him to. 

They’d had to start screening their calls and if they did go out, it was wearing disguises and usually separately. 

It had started when Jin Guangshan’s shitty nephew had attempted to ambush interview them while they were shopping for groceries with A-Yuan. 

Everyone knew he was a hack. Jin Zixun had majored in history at a university his uncle was on the board of (the only reason he was even admitted) and barely got his degree. He’d been resoundingly rejected by every reputable employer despite his uncle’s best efforts, and could only get a job at some hack blog site pretending to be news and to have journalistic integrity. He was largely known for ludicrous conspiracy theories, vehement misogyny, and, weirdly, white nationalist talking points, but his articles and livestreams apparently got enough advertising revenue to merit his continued employment. 

He had the nerve to imply Wei Ying had somehow framed Meng Yao and Jin Guangshan. 

On the bright side, the camera had been livestreaming, and A-Zhan had verbally eviscerated him and implied that he probably had a hand in the corporate espionage, that maybe the investigation should look into him. 

“I recall your name and the insulting things you said and wrote about Wei Ying. You claimed, without evidence, there was a connection with Compu-Jiang, and then they took a financial hit. Trying to take out your uncle’s competition?”

Jin Zixun’s face had turned interesting colors and he cut the camera, but the damage was done. They learned the next day he was canned from the pseudo-journalist farce and the FBI had declared him a “person of interest” and seized his electronics. 

The interest in that led to more media coverage looking at the Weis, rekindling interest in the false accusation and Wei Ying’s blacklisting from the industry. Uncle Four had banned reporters from the premises, and since he owned the building that meant they at least weren’t buzzing the apartment from the lobby or, worse, somehow getting in and knocking on their door, for the most part at least. Now they were simply waiting across the street and accosting them if they spotted them, something that most often happened if they were together, and less if they were separate. 

Wei Ying didn’t want to revisit the year or so following the blacklisting. Even with A-Zhan beside him, it had been like a montage of humiliation and pain. He hated that these reporters wanted to put all that on display again.

The Wens had been amazing, often bringing them groceries and cooked meals, but they couldn’t stay cooped up—they had a son, and he was fond of parks and libraries. Sometimes his aunts or uncles or Granny would take him out for them if there was a congregation of reporters, and that had at least ensured the parasites hadn’t caught on to A-Yuan’s existence connected to them yet. 

As a bright spot, A-Li had contacted him. With her father-in-law in prison for the corporate espionage Wei Ying had been framed for, her husband had consented to let him meet his nephew. She was excited to meet A-Yuan. They were just waiting for some of the furor to die down. 

Even though it was Saturday, Wei Ying was finishing a coding project while A-Zhan was taking A-Yuan to the library and then a different park than usual. He wished he could go with them, but it was better not to tempt fate. 

He was nearly finished sorting out a coding error when the bell for the apartment building buzzer rang. Sighing in irritation, he stalked to the door and pressed the button to respond, careful not to press the one that unlocked the door.

“No comment. Please leave the premises.”

“I am not the press,” a gravelly male voice responded.

Wei Ying blinked. He knew that voice, but he couldn’t place it.

“Name?”

“You know perfectly well who I am.”

It was the haughtiness of the tone that pinged his memory. How could he forget, being lectured by Lan Qiren on his ungrateful nature and ruining of his nephew when he was being fired?

Just the memory made him nauseous. As far as he knew, Lan Qiren hadn’t reached out to A-Zhan, though Lan Xichen had, apologizing that they would be dragged into this again.

Quickly, he pulled his phone from his pocket and fired a text message off to A-Zhan. 

Your uncle is here

“You’ll need to make an appointment,” he said blithely. “Have Lan Xichen set it up with A-Zhan. He has his number.”

His phone dinged as the uninvited visitor made outraged sounds that he very carefully refused to allow to register as words. Then the buzzer started up again, and he ignored it.

Not invited. Do not let him in.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Wei Ying had to smile over his husband’s use of proper punctuation and capitalization, ever proper even via text.

on it, he replied. will let you know when clear

The noise from the intercom/buzzer ceased, thankfully, and Wei Ying moved back toward the office, stepping over the barrier that kept Turmeric from getting to all the cords. As he did, he texted Wen Qing to let her know what had happened.

a-zhans uncle buzzed from lobby

told him to make appt

idk what he wants

He sat down with a sigh and stretched before trying to immerse himself back in the code. He’d just found his line of coding error when a knock on the door reverberated through the apartment. Before he could even contemplate getting up, his phone chimed, a text from Wen Qing.

Auntie 6 came to me

He followed her in

Uncle 4 and I are on it

Which meant, of course, that Lan Qiren had breached the building, likely not even registering that he was trespassing, or so privileged that he felt trespassing laws didn’t apply to him.

Fuck.

He could feel his anxiety rising, something he didn’t need. Now was not the time for a Xanax, no matter how much his heart was fluttering at the idea of having to deal with A-Zhan’s uncle.

lmk when i can escape, he sent back.

Then he texted A-Zhan.

breached perimeter

qing-jie & unc 4 to rescue

will come to u

where r u?

Wei Ying crept to the living room, trying to stay quiet as the intruder knocked again, more forcefully. He debated for a moment, fiddling with his phone nervously before slipping it in his pocket, then grabbed Turmeric’s carrier, leash, and harness. The bunny needed some outdoors time, and Wei Ying would probably be able to meet A-Zhan and A-Yuan at the park.

The knocking continued, and he was certain before long Lan Qiren would lose all sense of decorum and start yelling through the door. 

plz hurry, he texted Wen Qing.

He donned a hat A-Yuan had gifted him for Father’s Day, an adorable white bucket hat with bunnies and carrots on it, and a pair of big sunglasses. He was wearing torn jeans and a black t-shirt with a binary code motif Wen Ning had given him for Christmas—it read “fuck off,” but wasn’t too inappropriate given that only coders could read it. He was as decent as he was going to get.

Wei Ying opened Turmeric’s hutch and scooped him gently into the carrier, hushing him even though he was completely quiet and cooperative. He felt like an intruder in his own home, and it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Finally, he could hear voices outside the door—Uncle Four’s boisterous voice asking what he could do for “the gentleman,” Wen Qing mentioning trespassing, Lan Qiren’s haughtiness slowly sputtering out, growing distant as they led him away.

His phone dinged twice, A-Zhan texting the location of the park, and Wen Qing giving the all-clear. Wei Ying grabbed his shoes, keys, and wallet, Turmeric’s crate and his sundries, and slipped out of the apartment in socked feet, easing the door shut and locking it as quietly as he could.

He practically tiptoed down the side staircase, the one that didn’t lead to the lobby but straight outside, and slipped his shoes on in the vestibule before slipping outside into the sunshine, making sure the door shut behind him without anyone getting in.

The park, thankfully, was not too far away, and he didn’t see any reporters on this side of the building. Likely they had seen Lan Qiren enter and were all crowded on the side near the lobby hoping to see something good.

Fat chance.

Wei Ying booked it the first few blocks before he felt like he’d escaped and started to calm, but he didn’t really relax until he could see A-Zhan in the distance, looking in his direction, A-Yuan beside him sipping on a boxed apple juice. His husband folded him into a hug, and he could feel the tension ease from his body with a soft sigh.

“I brought Turmeric. He could use some outside time.”

The tiny smile he got from A-Zhan finished the job of easing the worst of his anxiety, and they sat with A-Yuan on the grass to bring Turmeric out of the carrier and belt him into his little harness.

His fingers fumbled on the buckles and he sighed in frustration. 

“Sit, A-Ying,” A-Zhan said. “Relax.”

There was a bit of worry in his eyes, and that told Wei Ying he must look frazzled. A-Zhan knew his anxieties, knew what Lan Qiren had said to him, something he’d opened up about long ago, when they’d learned to communicate and work as a team, and when Wei Ying was learning not to push him away. 

And so Wei Ying settled back and let him finish with Turmeric, focused on the sunshine and the breeze and the soft grass beneath him. His fingers itched to pull out his phone, though he’d received no notifications, and he resisted it, instead rubbing his hand along the surface of the grass, letting the individual strands tickle his palms.

Before long, their absolutely adorable second son was contentedly exploring the grass, and curious children were starting to gather. A-Zhan explained bunnies didn’t like loud noises and sudden movements, and told them if they had permission from their parents, they could approach one at a time to pet him. 

A-Yuan tumbled into Wei Ying’s lap, content to watch Turmeric from there, and he had no doubt his son had picked up on his anxiety. He was a bright boy. 

Eventually, the children wandered away, a calm bunny only so interesting, and A-Yuan was half-asleep on his lap. A-Zhan’s phone dinged, and he handed the leash to Wei Ying before fishing it out. A bit of texting and a few alerts later, his mouth was downturned. 

“A-Zhan?” he asked.

“I sent Xichen to retrieve Qiren, but he insists he must speak to me.”

Wei Ying fantasized briefly about Lan Qiren being led from the premises in handcuffs, yelling, but he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. It could well make things worse, so he wasn’t even able to enjoy the fantasy. 

“The board voted to remove xiongzhang,” he added. “Likely he wishes to insist I take over the company.”

He felt his chest clench at that. Pity toward Xichen, who had done what he could to keep Wei Ying out of prison even if only for A-Zhan’s sake, and the grief he was facing as his life fell apart around him. But more, there was fear that A-Zhan would take it, would leave him behind—not a rational fear given everything they had weathered together, but anxiety was cruel. 

“You can take it if you want it, A-Zhan,” he said after a minute. 

A-Zhan made a noncommittal noise. 

“I am texting Wen Qing to prepare a conference room so we need not open our home to him,” he replied after a moment. “I should hear him out.”

Wei Ying looked away, swallowing hard at the taste of bile. His vision was blurred, but he kept a handle on it, refused to cry again over this.

“I… I’ll stay with A-Yuan while you meet him.”

He startled when A-Zhan knelt in front of him and took his hands.

“We are together in this and all things. Granny will meet us and watch A-Yuan during the meeting. I need you there, A-Ying. I will say no.”

Wei Ying glanced up at him.

“He will hound us until I meet with him, but I will not go back to Gusu Lan Tech,” A-Zhan said, his voice insistent, worried. “My place is with you, at Dafan.”

“You’re sure you don’t want it?” he couldn’t help asking.

This was, after all, a chance for A-Zhan to reconcile with his family and further his career. But his husband’s expression turned stormy at the question.

“They will never admit to having wronged you, A-Ying. I cannot abide that.”

Wei Ying manages a weak smile. 

“They’ll never admit they wronged you, either.”

A-Zhan nodded, the corners of his lips taut with stress. 

“Wen Qing will sit in with us since this is now a Dafan Applications matter. Uncle Four, too.”

Wei Ying blinked at him blankly for a moment before he understood. Technically Gusu Lan Tech was trying to poach A-Zhan from Dafan Applications, which made it company business. Lan Qiren was trespassing on Uncle Four’s property, which made it his business. And it meant they’d have witnesses. His husband was clever, and so was Wen Qing. 

“A-Die, baba, okay?”

A-Yuan looked up at them solemnly. The poor child had been with them at the grocery store when Jin Zixun had ambushed them, had seen so much these past weeks that he didn’t understand. He deserved some explanation. 

“We are, baobei,” Wei Ying said firmly. “Bad things happened a few years ago. Someone made it look like a-die did something bad, and they just got caught.”

He could see the moment their son understood. 

“That’s why the mean man said it was your fault?”

Wei Ying nodded, and A-Yuan squirmed out of his lap to give him a giant hug. 

“Thank you. Now baba’s uncle wants to talk to us, so we need to go home. You’ll visit with popo while we find out what he wants, okay?”

A-Yuan bit his lip, looking more anxious than a child his age should.

“Baba’s uncle won’t be mean to you, will he?”

His heart broke at his son’s concern. It was clear he’d picked up on undertones they thought they’d kept away. A-Zhan wrapped A-Yuan in a hug. 

“Baba won’t let shufu be mean to a-die,” A-Zhan said seriously.

“And your gugu will be with us, so she won’t let him be mean to either of us,” Wei Ying added. 

A-Yuan brightened—Wen Qing had a reputation, one even her five-year-old nephew was aware of. He trusted her to protect his dads. 

“Okay,” A-Yuan said. “If you bring Turmeric with you, he’ll comfort you if he’s mean!”

Wei Ying smiled at that.

“That’s why we’re leaving Turmeric with you, so he can comfort you. I know you’re worried, but baba and I will be okay. We’ll come right home when we’re done and snuggle with you and Turmeric.”

Their son seemed to accept that, and A-Zhan deftly removed Turmeric’s harness and placed him in the carrier. He pulled their disguises from a bag. Wei Ying was delighted when A-Yuan put on his brown bunny bucket hat, and he reached out to arrange the ears once the boy had it on. A-Zhan was wearing his own bucket hat, green with frog eyes, also a Father’s Day gift from A-Yuan. 

Honesty, he hadn’t expected that fatherhood would make A-Zhan even sexier, but he wasn’t complaining. 

The walk home was quiet. Wei Ying dreaded reaching home and hated that he felt that way. The home he had made with A-Zhan and A-Yuan was precious to him, and it felt like a sacred space had been violated. 

As they drew nearer, they planned to separate, A-Zhan taking A-Yuan to one side staircase, and Wei Ying taking Turmeric to the other, the plan to meet at the apartment. 

Wei Ying was actually surprised when it went off without a hitch, and he opened the stairwell door to see A-Zhan unlocking the door, Granny already hugging A-Yuan. Just a few years ago she’d have picked him up, but he was a bit big for that now. 

She smiled at his approach, reaching up to pat him on the cheek. 

“Aiya, you look so stressed. Popo will make dinner,” she said. “Auntie Three is making baozi for the building, too.”

Several of the aunties loved cooking different things in excess, so every few weeks they would make a huge batch of something delicious for the whole building, since everyone in the building was family. Auntie Three’s baozi were a favorite of his; she remembered his love for spicy food and always accommodated that in his. 

“Extra spicy for A-Ying,” he chirped, though popo clucked softly in a way that let him know she saw through his attempt at cheer. 

She headed straight for the kitchen, where she would likely catalogue the fridge to decide what to cook. Whatever she made, it would be delicious; his mouth was almost watering just thinking about it. 

He focused on getting Turmeric settled in his hutch, and A-Zhan got A-Yuan situated with a coloring book and crayons. 

“I should change,” Wei Ying said, remembering his torn jeans and the shirt Lan Qiren might be able to decode. 

He’d probably think Wei Ying wore the shirt on purpose to send a message. Frankly, Wei Ying wouldn’t mind that interpretation, but he didn’t want to antagonize. 

“What you are wearing is fine,” A-Zhan said, catching his wrist. “He interrupted our day, and he can get us as we are.”

A-Zhan was still wearing the frog bucket hat, with apparently no intent on removing it. His light blue shirt, Wei Ying noticed for the first time, was the one with a print of a rabbit wearing glasses and a bow tie, with ‘daddy’ in script underneath. Wei Ying snagged his hat with the bunnies and carrots motif from where he’d placed it atop the bunny hutch and put it back on. They’d match, to a certain extent, present a united front. 

“Be good for popo,” A-Zhan directed A-Yuan, as though their son would ever be anything but good. 

The boy simply nodded and discarded his crayon to run over and hug them both. 

The first two floors of the building were Dafan Applications office space. Though the first floor also held a lovely coffee shop and several other stores open to the public, the core of the building was the headquarters. An elevator and staircase serviced the offices, accessible with employee IDs. Each office was accessible only by swiping employee IDs, and record was kept of who entered and when. 

Since the apartments were held entirely by family, it might have seemed paranoid, but Wei Ying was glad for the security the building had—after all, the lack of it at Gusu Lan Tech had led to him being framed for corporate espionage. Poorly, but it ultimately hadn’t mattered. 

He hadn’t understood why he’d been framed, only that he’d had to correct Su She’s subpar coding many times when he’d worked there, so it wasn’t very surprising that he’d fuck up installing the code to the point where it would be caught before it could do damage. Since he’d never been anything but pleasant to Su She, that he’d been targeted had surprised him. 

When he had mentioned his confusion to A-Zhan, about a week after the news broke, he learned that Su She had tried to tell A-Zhan that Wei Ying was a poor choice as a romantic partner, implying he would be better. 

“I told him he was not qualified to speak with me,” A-Zhan had recollected. 

It made a sick sort of sense—if Wei Ying was out of the way, fired or imprisoned, Su She might think he had a shot. And given that Lan Qiren had hated him even before he and A-Zhan started dating, the frame up job was sufficient.

A-Zhan took his hand and led him into the elevator, and he realized he must have blanked out because he hadn’t even heard it arrive. His husband was watching him in concern, and he hated how much this invasion by Lan Qiren was messing with him, but he absolutely wasn’t going to abandon A-Zhan to face him alone. 

“I’m okay,” Wei Ying said. “I just want to get it over with.”

Uncle Four was waiting for them by the elevators. He offered a smile.

“I’ll bring by a few bottles of my newest brew later,” he said in greeting.

“That bad, huh?” Wei Ying asked ruefully. 

“I don’t wish to speak ill of A-Zhan’s family,” Uncle Four said deferentially. 

‘But that man…’ was heavily implied. 

A-Zhan inclined his head. 

“He decided Wei Ying’s guilt on flimsy evidence,” his husband said, his tone dismissive. 

Wei Ying squeezed his hand—it was as close to disparaging as A-Zhan had ever come toward his uncle. More often, they simply pretended he didn’t exist, which prior to this had been fairly easy. When they had spoken of it, when he had finally told A-Zhan in one of his darker moments what Lan Qiren had said to him when running him out of Gusu Lan Tech with security, his husband had simply folded him in his arms and told him he was wrong, over and over again, and reiterated that he had chosen Wei Ying. 

A-Zhan was angry, he realized. Perhaps over Lan Qiren returning to their life with all of his customary arrogance, or perhaps in defense of his brother, who was being excised from the company. He remembered, early in their relationship, learning that both brothers had been told what to major in, prepped for what Lan Qiren thought their careers should look like at Gusu Lan, which was why A-Zhan hadn’t been able to pursue music as he had wished. It was why he had expected him to break up with him, as ordered. 

He wondered what Lan Xichen had given up, what dreams he had let go to serve his family. 

“Tomorrow,” he told Uncle Four. “I think we’ll need tonight for us.”

The older man offered a sympathetic smile and escorted them to the conference room. 

It was the ostentatious one they used for particularly obnoxious or status-obsessed clients, with handsomely-carved panels with the Dafan Applications logo and an imposing table that looked expensive but were actually the work of a family member with a woodworking hobby. It had two doors, one on either side of the long table, which was ideal—they wouldn’t have to walk past Lan Qiren to get in or out. 

When they entered, Wei Ying’s gaze was drawn to Lan Xichen first, seated at the side of the table. He looked… defeated was the first word to come to mind. He glanced at his husband, could see he too was looking at his brother, concerned lines at the corners of his eyes betraying his emotions. 

“Finally,” Lan Qiren commented, drawing their attention. “I don’t have all day.”

His gaze was, as usual, disapproving, and he completely disregarded the fact that he had been the one to crash their day, not the other way around.

“My husband told you to schedule an appointment,” A-Zhan said in lieu of greeting.

He tugged Wei Ying to the head of the table, where someone had thoughtfully placed two chairs. Qing-jie was his guess, letting them present as the team they were. She was on one side of the table beside the seats, and Uncle Four sat on the other, probably as owner of the building. Wen Ning was too faint-hearted to handle this, he knew, even though he was technically the head of Dafan Applications.

“An appointment, to see my own nephew?” Lan Qiren grated, glaring at Wei Ying like it was his fault.

“You told me five years ago that I was no nephew of yours,” A-Zhan said, his voice dispassionate.

Wei Ying knew how much that had hurt A-Zhan. Part of him wanted to tell Lan Qiren that, rail at him over every emotional scar he had inflicted on the both of them, but he also knew there was no point in it—he wouldn’t listen, and he knew well enough that it wouldn’t be cathartic. It was better to let A-Zhan get this over with and be here to support him.

“You were making a mistake!”

His continued glaring at Wei Ying made it obvious what “mistake” he was referring to, and he barely managed not to flinch. It was clear this conversation was not going to be pleasant. A-Zhan took his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. 

“As I recall, the evidence that he was not making a mistake has been all over the news,” Wen Qing drawled.

“What business is it of yours?” Lan Qiren demanded. “Why are you here?”

“As witnesses,” she replied. “And A-Zhan and A-Ying are family. We’re here for them.”

Warmth spread through Wei Ying’s chest at her pronouncement—he often referred to her as Qing-jie, but hadn’t known the sentiment was returned. 

“And I own the building in which you are currently trespassing,” Uncle Four added.

Where he was normally a jovial and friendly man, his expression was serious and bordering on unwelcoming. Apparently Lan Qiren had made quite the impression on him. 

Lan Qiren sniffed disdainfully, but finally focused on A-Zhan. 

“The board has decided Xichen’s… indiscretions make him unfit to head the company. You have been appointed in his place. You will, of course, be expected to take the Lan name again, as will the child you’ve adopted. I’ve taken the liberty of securing housing for you, and I suppose we can find a place in the company for your husband, on a provisionary basis, of course.”

Dead silence followed his pronouncement, and Wei Ying felt dizzy with the presumption of all of this—A-Zhan was being ordered back to Gusu Lan Tech as though this wasn’t the first they’d seen or heard from Lan Qiren in over five years, clearly expected to obey without question. 

“Provisionary?” A-Zhan murmured, his voice icy with what Wei Ying recognized as fury. 

He squeezed A-Zhan’s hand, silently asking that he not be angry on his behalf. After all, he expected nothing but this treatment from Lan Qiren, so he wasn’t surprised to receive it. 

“He’ll be expected to prove himself, of course.”

“He already has,” Wen Qing cut in. “He’s been an asset to Dafan Applications since the day we hired him, paramount to our success.”

Lan Qiren sniffed dismissively. 

“Yes, well, his previous stint of employment at Gusu Lan Tech left much to be desired.”

A-Zhan’s jaw clenched. Wei Ying’s stomach roiled, remembering the constant criticism he’d faced there, how ultimately he wondered why they’d even agreed to hire him.

“I will not subject my husband to further abuse at the hands of the company that attempted to ruin his career.”

To his surprise, Lan Qiren looked satisfied by that statement. 

“Then we’ll arrange for your move. You’ll be expected to dress more professionally in the future, as the representative of the company.”

He eyed A-Zhan’s hat and clothing with distaste.

Wei Ying stole a glance at Xichen, who looked haggard and drained and was barely listening to the conversation, and felt empathy for his situation. Xichen had always treated him kindly, until he went no-contact after A-Zhan’s resignation, something he was likely ordered to do. Even so, he also sought to warn them of what had happened, and had informed A-Zhan of Lan Qiren’s intentions. And he had stood fast against the board’s desire to have him prosecuted. 

And now the man he had been set to marry is in prison, having brought Nie Innovations to its knees and attempted the same with Gusu Lan Tech, and what happiness he’d been looking forward to was just so much smoke. 

“You misunderstand,” A-Zhan said. “I do not intend to relocate, or take on the Lan name, or chair Gusu Lan Tech. I will continue to work at Dafan and live in my apartment with my husband and our son. I will remain Wei Zhan.”

Lan Qiren looked shocked, almost as though he had been physically slapped, and then the anger returned. 

“You leave me no choice. It will be a simple matter to buy out Dafan,” he said. 

Wen Qing laughed at the threat. 

“Dafan Applications is a worker cooperative. You have no power.”

For the first time he’d known him, Lan Qiren seemed incapable of words. After all, it meant that he and A-Zhan were part owners of Dafan, as all employees were, something he would never offer at Gusu Lan. Wei Ying privately hoped he was having an internal fit over the socialism of worker cooperatives. 

A-Zhan, however, had plenty to say. 

“You disrupted our Saturday after five years of silence to demand I change my life to suit your whims,” A-Zhan said coldly. “You didn’t even have the grace to apologize to Wei Ying, whose life and career you tried to destroy.”

Lan Qiren’s expression turned stormy. 

“You chose this ill-bred miscreant over your family, and you expect me to apologize to him?”

“No,” A-Zhan said. “I chose the truth. I chose love. A-Ying is my family.”

“You,” Lan Qiren snarled, turning his attention to Wei Ying. “This rebellion is all your influence! A-Zhan was filial until you came along!”

Wei Ying stayed silent. His anxiety spiked but was soothed by A-Zhan’s hand in his, in the feeling of his fingers entwined. Lan Qiren could do nothing to them—he’d already tried, and they’d ultimately come out stronger. They’d built a life and found new family. 

There was so much he could say, but he knew better than to think Lan Qiren would listen; he was a convenient scapegoat, and nothing would convince him otherwise. 

“Have you nothing to say, you ingrate?” Lan Qiren demanded.

A-Zhan tensed, but Wei Ying squeezed his hand.

“I see no point in speaking to you,” he said honestly.

“You dare!”

Lan Qiren stood, quivering with rage.

“You broke our family as completely as you broke the Jiangs, and you have the gall to sit there smirking, enjoying the mess you’ve made!”

Mention of the Jiangs hurt—it had been weeks and only A-Li had reached out, but she had never broken contact to begin with. 

Wen Qing slapped the table and stood, startling them. 

“I’ve heard quite enough. You can’t bully your estranged nephew into uprooting the life he built after you alienated him, so you go after A-Ying again. You act the victim, but you drove A-Zhan away with your unmerited vitriol toward A-Ying.”

Uncle Four stood as well. He was a calm man, but Wei Ying could see him tremble—in anger or nervousness, he didn’t know.

“You are not welcome here, Lan Qiren. Leave or you will be removed.”

“And given that you attempted to poach two of our best employees and threatened our company, you can tell your board that Dafan Applications will never do business with Gusu Lan Tech,” Wen Qing added. 

Wei Ying knew her level of petty and wondered if their new apps would unexpectedly glitch on Gusu Lan products in the future. Probably not, since she was focused on user experience. 

Maybe he was the one feeling petty, but he doubted anyone who mattered would judge him for it. 

“Clearly attempting to reason with any of you is an exercise in futility,” Lan Qiren said.

It took far too much energy to suppress a nearly-hysterical giggle building in Wei Ying’s chest at his complete lack of self awareness. 

“Come, Xichen. We’re done here.”

A-Zhan bristled further, glancing at Wei Ying with a question in his eyes, and he nodded. Xichen deserved to know he still had family. 

“Xiongzhang may stay for dinner, if he wishes,” A-Zhan said. “Our son would love to meet his bobo.”

A tiny smile lit up Xichen’s features, and Wei Ying got the impression it was the first time he’d smiled since his fiancé’s arrest.

“I would be honored to,” he said softly. 

His voice was hoarse, as though he was no longer used to speaking, or was overcome with emotion. It could easily be both. 

“Thank you, didi.”

Lan Qiren scoffed, and Wen Qing pointed at the door, raising an eyebrow. When he stomped out, she and Uncle Four followed him to escort him from the premises, leaving the three of them alone.

“Were you offered another position in the company?” A-Zhan asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

Xichen shook his head, the fleeting smile gone. 

“No. Uncle believes I need time to reflect on my mistakes.”

Wei Ying didn’t hold back a scoff, given that Lan Qiren had referred to him as A-Zhan’s mistake. 

“You didn’t make any mistakes. You had no way of knowing.”

The smile Xichen offers is wrong, bitter. 

“I should have done more. Instead of letting them scapegoat you, I should have insisted on a full investigation. Maybe we would have uncovered the truth and protected you. Maybe we could have prevented the damage to Nie Innovations and Mingjue’s health, too.”

He had forgotten that Xichen and Mingjue were friends somehow. Wei Ying wanted to tell him the guilt he carried was a burden that shouldn’t be his, but he also knew from struggling with his own that it was something Xichen would need to come to terms with himself. 

“You should reach out to him,” A-Zhan said, looking at Wei Ying like he knew what he was thinking. “I doubt he blames you, and perhaps he could use the help.”

Xichen looked torn on the idea. Wei Ying could almost see the thoughts running through his head—that he would be unwelcome, a burden on his friend, but that it was a way to do penance for the sins he believed he’d committed. 

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.

Wei Ying walked around the table and patted his shoulder, gesturing to the other door, the one that led to the interior of the building. A-Zhan had offered an olive branch with the invitation, and this was his. 

“Come on. Popo is cooking, and Auntie Three made baozi for the whole building. And A-Yuan is waiting.”

The smile returned, a little stronger this time, and Wei Ying smiled back as Xichen levered out of his seat to follow them home. 

-------------

Jin Zixun’s background is maybe based on a very well-known “journalist” who just constantly looks confused and outraged. To narrow it down, John Oliver did a segment on him recently. Uh, and maybe slightly on two other conspiracy theorists who pretend at journalism, one of whom keeps getting sued.

Also, I am old enough to text in full sentences most of the time. I had some friends check over Wei Ying’s panic texts so hopefully they’re believable.

This was difficult to write because of the anxiety Wei Ying was feeling and the uncomfortable conversations.

Also, I forgot the Nie company name and had to check—I couldn’t remember if it was Nie Innovations or Nie Industries. Turns out I accidentally used both in the first fic in the series. Fixed it now.

I maybe spent too much time researching worker cooperatives and employee-owned companies. It’s not a major part of this fic, but I thought it was a cool detail to bring in.

The title is, again, from the Li Bai poem.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #cql fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fic #untamed fanfiction #untamed fanfic #untamed fic #a yuan #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei ying #wei wuxian #wen qing #lan xichen #lan qiren #jin zixun #my fanfiction

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

eyooo!! i listened to firesorrow girl [TUMBLR | SOUNDCLOUD] by @gerrydelano and HAD A MIGHTY NEED (to also analyze this)

disclaimer: I have only listened to TMA through one (1), read it ONE time, so if you read something that seems wrong it probably is because my memory is not The Best (the seasons are 40 eps long and 30 mins each, Jonny why) and I’m probably straight-up not remembering or misremembering some aspect or detail about a character/a relationship/a part of their narrative

(and before you say it, i absolutely CANNOT just go relisten to an ep out of order. my nd brain Will Not Let Me until i have listened thru all 4 seasons, In Order, several times)

ALSO: i speak very definitively here, but it doesn’t mean i’m right abt my analysis

italics and bold are lyrics, normal is analysis. if there’s a way i can make this more accessible, lmk!

analysis under cut

little girl tries sleeping in the fireplace at home no one banished her inside it, she just lay down on her own she stares up into the darkness of the chimney and she hopes that someday she may go up in smoke this makes me think abt hilltop road first and foremost (but i have a feeling i’m missing something aljlkdjf) this is also the first hint to agnes’s wavering thoughts abt her being “the chosen one” for the lightless flame she’s already wishing she could burn, or in other words be normal

oh, the ends of her hair curl into embers in the wood beneath her head like a pillow, splintered shoulders in the soot flickers turn to flame and moves in kisses up her arms it loves her, so refuses her a scar i really like the imagery here bc, aside from the splinters, it evokes a softness embers are pretty, pillows are soft, “moves in kisses up her arms” really evokes a gentle intimacy, even before the line “it loves her” but then the last line really solidifies agnes’s relationship with fire--she wishes it would burn her but it loves her too much to do that, so she doesn’t

she doesn't burn oh, she learns again, reinforcing the motif agnes’s relationship with fire--the layers of 1) her not wanting this but 2) the first doesn’t care and loves her anyway i also see it as foreshadowing, or at least leading up to what she learns (put a pin in this)

pretty girl sits quiet in the coffee shop alone staring empty out the window like she used to do at home she feels his eyes fall down upon her from the counter, like a doe the ache of yearning blisters in her bones jack barnabas! hilltop road the use of doe, evokes the visual of “wide eyes,” which, in turn, evokes naivety--jack doesn’t know who agnes is, what she is, or that she could hurt him, even if she didn’t want to love, love, LOVE the fire motif here and used throughout the song--using fire metaphors bc it’s so fitting (put a pin in this)

he follows her up to the hill where water never works to send him down she broke his crown and blessed him with a curse her only kiss a smear of kerosene, a desperation unrehearsed and love made sure to let her know it hurts (love made sure it hurt) this only hit me like after the 5th time listening in a row, but LISTEN, “jack and jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.” i think it could also mean hilltop road, but i do think the stronger theme lies in that nursery rhyme. his name is jack and then to solidify that, “to send him down she broke his crown” vs. “jack fell down and broke his crown” i really love the contradiction of “blessed him with a curse” *ben from parks and rec voice* it’s about the layers. so listen, love is often seen as a blessing. but coming from agnes it’s a curse bc she burns anyone she touches. this is also in reference to her momentarily transferring her curse (the love from the lightless flame/fire) to him through her kiss “smear of kerosene”--another way of using a metaphor that evokes images of fire, and I LOVE IT “a desperation unrehearsed” MORE LAYERS YO. she knows what her touch will do to him but she’s so desperate to feel normal for even a second, she kisses him anyway “and love made sure to let her know it hurts”--going back to her curse, the love from fire/flame, and the destruction is causes bc of this. it could also be representative of how love can be very destructive. ppl often describe “the fires of passion” or passion as being like fire/hot *eyes emoji* i think the addition of “love made sure it hurt” could also communicate how the fire’s love for agnes is possessive--she cannot be normal or human or have any other relationship except with the lightless flame

he burns oh, she learns a parallel to “she doesn’t burn”--the striking difference between her and jack (the lightless flame and the rest of the world) what she learns here, tho, is also a parallel between what she learns at the beginning of the song there she is learning abt herself, here is is learning about everyone else

learns that breathing screamsmoke blackens hearts as much as lungs a heart motif, representative of love another fire-related metaphor that breathing in smoke doesn’t just fill your lungs with soot, but also covers the heart (love) in soot, as well a toxic love, as soot is bad for lungs and hearts it can’t be coughed back out and she can’t glisten like the sun using fire-related metaphors--the soot in her lungs and on her heart cannot be “cleaned” or cleared from her body with the body’s natural reaction to something obstructing breathing, which is coughing listen, i’ve said this before AND YOU’LL HEAR IT AGAIN: i really love “she can’t glisten like the sun” bc the whole point of fire, as the lightless flame sees it, is what the fear is named for: desolation. BUT fire is ultimately a neutral thing. if you respect and carefully control it, it can give warmth and life--like the sun (tho you can’t control the sun lmao). so there are positive aspects to. but not for agnes, given her upbringing and literally how she was conceived there’s no one left to save with love and no one she can touch affection is the pyre built on wildfire in the brush reinforcing her being unable to connect with normal humans bc of who she is ALSO i’m pretty sure this is referencing the bonfire she was born in--the ritual that made her the lightless flame’s messiah also, also, the use of the word “affection” uses the theme that fire itself love agnes, in it’s own, twisted way

her hands were only ever made to press through burning flesh and boiling tears won’t put it out but scald it like the rest referencing her birth again--that she was made to be this messiah for the lightless flame, for their ritual to remake the world through the lens of the desolation also more fire-related metaphors that i am IN LOVE with ugh, and, okay “boiling tears” communicates what agnes is feeling again--that she Does Not want to be their messiah, she just wants to be normal. she doesn’t want what the fire has given her but even her tears burn bc that’s what she is, what she was made for and the love of waxen women makes no difference in the end if never she can make and keep a simple human friend reference to jude, specifically, but other members of the lightless flame, as well. from what i remember, they all loved her but in the way that the fire loves her: possessive and toxic (like soot in the lungs) and then the reinforcement that she’s not human and cannot have the connection with humans she desperately craves, even if it’s just a tiny sliver

she can’t burn oh, she’s learned YO the difference between “she doesn’t burn” and “she can’t burn”--there’s a passiveness to it in the first line, but it’s more active in the second. here me out: as i said before, the “learn” lines communicate the inner thoughts of what agnes is thinking, the revelations she makes as he grows and lives. so “she doesn’t burn” communicates her learning and get used to the fact that fire doesn’t hurt her. versus “she can’t burn” communicates her knowing and accepting that the fire doesn’t hurt her, but she can hurt others with that very same fire. lowkey it’s so hard to articulate this difference, but this is the best my brain came up, hope it makes sense

YOOOO GIVE ME A MOMENT THIS NEXT PART IS MY FAVORITE PART

firesorrow girl says, “hang me up; i’d like to go” (i would like to go) referencing her death--her realizing that bc she’s fallen in love with jack, she can no longer lead the ritual for the lightless flame. but bro, listen, the addition  of “i would like to go” is a direct line to what agnes is thinking and feeling. more than not being able to lead the ritual, she doesn’t want to live like this anymore; doesn’t want to live her life unable to make connections with humans this isn’t quite a chimney she can column up to choke (i choose now to choke) a throwback to the first lines about her lying down in the fireplace and looking up through the chimney ALSO has a double meaning here, reinforced by what agnes is thinking: you can choke on smoke. her death involves literal choking the “i choose now to choke” again is a direct line to what agnes is thinking/feeling BUT ALSO a decision she finally gets to make autonomously the weighted hand upon her waist is chained there like a ghost, (always been a ghost) i know you’re probably tired of hearing but i ain’t gonna stop saying it. I REALLY LOVE THIS LINE. the lyrics say one thing, agnes’s internal thoughts say another bc raymond fielding is a ghost. not just like a ghost. he is one to her. i believe it was distortion helen who said that there was a scar on hilltop road. and we find out later that it’s bc hilltop road belonged to the web and even tho agnes burnt the house down, the web still left a mark on her. part of that mark is fielding, who i assume, was an avatar for the web. and it’s quite literal, as agnes never got rid of his hand he literally is a ghost haunting her bc of this but the rope she wears is woven cold with hope (yearning to be cold) THIS LINE BRO,,, i’m gonna say it I FUCKING LOVE IT. of course, referencing the rope she uses to hang herself BUT LISTEN “woven cold with hope” YOOOO THIS IS TAKING THE FIRE LOVES HER THEME AND TURNING IT ON ITS HEAD COMPLETELY she has been burning with fire this entire song, her body a raging inferno, contained in a body that appears human but hurts anything she touches. BUT AT THE END OF THE SONG WE GET THE COLD fire is often associated with warmth is often associated with hope, right?? but this time bc of the circumstances and what fire means to agnes and the lightless flame, being cold, not burning everyone she touches horribly, is her hope ”yearning to be cold” strengthens that message coldness is also associated with death, and here it’s quite literal but it’s also important to note that it’s also still agnes’s hope. so it’s still a very positive thing, even tho it’s associated with very negative things. bro,,, i gotta go lie down

those who can remember sing her name out like a prayer (i am not your prayer) the lightless flame, of course, bc they are a cult. don’t @ me, i’m right BUT “i am not your prayer”: again, a direct line into agnes’s thoughts. she never wanted, nor asked to be their messiah. she was thrust into the position against her will as she was literally borne in flames. from birth she had this shouldered on her. and she doesn’t want it, even in death the music to it hollow of the truth in her despair (hollow with despair) goes along with the “prayer” for her above: the lightless flame sing and mourn her but they’re not mourning her, not agnes, they’re mourning their messiah, the one who was going to lead them through a ritual that would remake the world. their words ring hollow bc of this. and it hurts even more with “in her despair” bc even in agnes’s despair at not being able to connect with a human, as well as not being able to lead the lightless flame like they wanted her too, they’re only mourning the idea of agnes they’ve created in their minds, not who agnes really was in wickerwind the crackleburn of candles cries for fate (i rewrite my fate) and firesorrow girl may someday be chosen again (firechosen girl, again) i LOVE the use of “wickerwind” and “crackleburn.” no analysis i just love the way they sound okay but the “cries for fate.” i think this has a lot of meanings. one is the fire crying out either about agne’s ultimate fate (having to kill herself or die, anyway) and/or crying out for another to fill her position (putting agnes’s fate onto someone else’s shoulders). another is the lightless flame also crying out for the same reasons. and the third is agnes, herself, crying out about her unfair fate. i think that last one is strengthened by “i rewrite my fate.” a common but powerful theme in many stories of a character defying fate bc it’s unacceptable to them. it’s also wholly contradictory to what the lightless flame wanted and then, of course, the second line strengthens the idea that they’re already looking for another messiah for their ritual

and so the wheel turns ‘round and ‘round

final note abt the music that is probably wrong bc i’m not musically inclined BUT i have been listing to sideways on youtube, who is very musically inclined. and that makes me an expert right? /s anyway, what i wanted to note abt this musical structure is that the beats aren’t the usual 4/4 that most popular songs use these days.

and what that means is that you get gratification ever 4 beats. (sideways describes it way better than i ever could here) this song doesn’t follow that structure (i think lakjlkdjf again, i’m not musically inclined at all) and i think it really adds to the theme of how agnes feels: trapped with this fire burning inside her until she finally chooses freedom (tho i know it’s more complicated than that in-verse).

now whether was was purposeful or not, i have no idea. but still a cool detail i, personally, noticed.

--

again hope it was semi-coherent. as with my other analysis, i just listened to the song and wrote what i was thinking, stream of consciousness

bloodwater ballad analysis | bonus meme i made for these analyses bc it’s funny and i wanted to share

#tma #the magnus archives #tma meta #(kinda) #agnes montague #jude perry #chirp.meta

[youidiotprince]

Can I request some headcanons/examples of what you think Noor's art would look like? It's for science.

of course you can! I don’t want to repost other people’s art so here’s a link to the pinterest inspo and I’ll just explain my thoughts lol I know nothing about names for art styles and stuff so bear with me

based on her insta, her photography lens seems to gravitate towards lines and shapes and patterns so I think her art would do the same so it’d be a bit geometric (I didn’t find great examples of this but just imagine it using her insta posts lol)

I think her street art and her hand drawn art would be different, I think her hand drawn art would be like those minimalist line art sketches, though that might influence her street art a bit too

a headcanon I have is her art style comes in phases, or there are motifs in her art that change with time, and I think right now she’d be in a bit of a political art phase, and I think when she was figuring out her sexuality, her art was very much just ✨women✨ bc it was a safe way for her to work through her attraction to women (bc she’s bi ofc)

this is all I’ve got but if you have any questions or thoughts or suggestions pls lmk 😊

#idk if this is noornon but I’ll tag it anyway djdj #noornon🧀 #asked and answered #long post #wtfock

[mhxjiho]

hi! i go by axel, she/hers and i’m late. that’s going to be a usual thing. introducing resident moon lovin’ vigilante/flower enthusiast/horoscope extraordinaire - min jiho. jiho’s vigilante name is selene by night (yes i’m a sucker for motifs) and by day he runs a quaint flower shop. his quirk allows him to utilize the moon’s energy according to the lunar cycle. you can check out his background and quirk. give this a like and i’ll come to your ims. for plotting and general chatting purposes, i’m always on discord, just lmk if you’d like it. below are just some of my musings, possible connections and a tl;dr for jiho!

jiho’s background can be summed up as the son of a lovingly hippie, happy go lucky mom who blasted ~ vintage music in her flower shop constantly and taught him the meaning of flowers before he could even figure out 2+2=4

in trying to raise him as carefree as possible, he eventually began to shoulder on most of the responsibility of their lil family of two

money was Tiiiiihggght

his dad died before he was born while on the pro hero job, something he used to really look up to

he was well on his way to being a hero at 18 when his mom passed away in the scuffle of a hero diffusing a ~ violent ~ situation (if anyone wants angst, we can figure out a connection here bc,,, jackpot for jiho)

now at 22, he’s a u.y dropout, seemingly just a flower shop owner... Only Not Really

ever since his mother died, he became fixated on avenging the deaths of civilians at the hands of heroes And villains

in his eyes, no living life is worth more than the other, which fuels him to use his quirk at nightfall to figure out the Truth and get revenge... muahahhah

he keeps his identity as selene completely a secret, i can only imagine very few people knowing his double life as flower shop boy

kinda shy by day, badass fuck u fuck ur shit fuck the system by night. u know the drill

personality ~

jiho wants to be perceived as just the quiet flower shop owner from the outside looking in, as it makes it much easier to be selene at the end of the day

he trusts the moon more than anyone/anything else, so it’s only natural he loves astrology and horoscopes. he checks his horoscope everyday without fail and Yes, sometimes he does Fortune Fridays at his shop using his trust hand me down tarot cards. he also will ask within the first 5 minutes of meeting someone (he cares about) what their sign is

he reaaaaaally loves flowers :’) they make him so happy and manage to calm him down when he’s riled up

he loooooooves old timey music (thanks to his mom) and he really adores giving mixtapes to those close to him. he used to sing a lot, but ever since his mom died, he hasn’t done so :(

he’s generally a man of few words, doesn’t believe in speaking just to fill the silence

once he’s comfortable with someone, the mischievous side of jiho emerges. he loves bickering, absolutely loooves it and will provoke ur muse for it (pls give me a bantering plot thats it)

selene is rlly his alter ego, selene is all sorts of witty and crafty and jumping off roofs

jiho has Big problems accepting the two sides of himself and has yet to come to terms that they are both part of Him

basically he’s just a lost boy looking for answers as to why his mom was taken from him.... he also researches similar cases and each night pursues the involved heroes/villains for information

connections ~

give me someone that comes to jiho’s flower shop and lets jiho wax poetic about the meanings of flowers!! jiho would make your muse special bouquets every time they come around :’)

some pals wld be nice... he doesn’t have very many, maybe your muse knows jiho as jiho or as only selene? possibilities are endless

for heros/villains/vigilantes: good ol enemies... your muse sees selene as a nuisance and selene will stop at nothing to prove just that

jiho and your muse like to create mix tapes together!

jiho is most of the time alone and tends to burn out after using his quirk really often, mayb a neighbor who reminds him to stop fuckin bein an idiot???? and drink some water?? and to not skip dinner?

someone who tends to the flower shop with him! he’s a pretty ok boss tbh ur muse gets free snacks constantly

a tarot card pal!

i cannot stress this enough: enemies, frenemies, confidants, all for that and anything and everything else! i’m always down to plot!

thank you for reading this far wow ur amazing ??

#myherointro #lets goooooo #small font post 2018 is my nemesis

[inspector-montoya-fox]

#5 - The Cold Heart of Hate

Setting: well that was fast... we make it to Russia, where we’re greeted to the evilest of evil lairs. when not dodging robo-falcons and burning boulders, the first mission acts as a tour and establishes the fact that we’re legit in a volcano. i don’t want to say that this is anticlimactic because the missions in this episode are truly hard, but there’s no hub to explore. instead, it’s a chain of missions that lead to the Clockwerk battle, and i guess that makes sense since there’s no time to waste, the stakes are high, etc. if you weren’t able to piece the clues together about Clockwerk’s identity up to this point, the missions do not help. unlike some of the game’s other episodes where the baddies’ personalities are reflected by the settings, Clockwerk remains a shadow up until the very end (and that’s kinda ironic when you think about how he has a huge fucking tower with his face on it). considering the absence of a main hub, the missions do a pretty good job in establishing the mood. we see the outside and inside of the volcano while controlling the van, and then Bentley’s hacking and Sly’s journey into the lab exhibit the level’s technological/ science-y aesthetic. on that note, let’s talk a bit about that lab. i’ve mentioned this before on my account but Cold Heart of Hate is a slave to the early platformer tradition of having an evil lab as the final stage. i don’t blame the game for that - here’s what’s weird though: if Clockwerk is so much larger than Sly, he couldn’t possibly fit into that lab. so... who works there? the robo-falcons? or is Clockwerk actually a ship for someone else? i uh *removes tin foil hat* ...... the huge Clockwerk tower is great for exposition, given that Clockwerk, although a rotting owl corpse stuffed inside a machine, has a huge ego. Sinking Peril is my favorite mission in the episode because it sets up the perfect atmosphere for the final bossfight. fighting the bird over its sinking tower of a replica not only ups the ante but also makes it feel even more satisfying when we finally get to drop it into the lava. lastly, i said Sunset Snake Eyes represented red and i kinda regret it now because that should have been orange and Cold Heart of Hate should have been red. welp! Cold Heart of Hate can be black. seems fitting.

Characters: i lied - the setting does reflect Clockwerk’s character in a very specific way: we’re literally inside a cottdamn volcano. tensions are brewing, the veil is about to be removed. Clockwerk is great. no, he’s more than great. he’s a satisfying and deserving final boss. he’s a maniacal, narcissistic, eGoMaNiAc that really gets under your skin when he keeps on pulling off the reveals. not ONLY has he killed Sly’s entire lineage, the QUEEN had the AUDACITY to stay alive for centuries! Clock-werk it baby! we have no choice but to STAN. the bitch is evil and that’s made crystal clear. his source of youth? hatred. the bird literally killed to remain healthy. and i’m glad he knows no shame because the monologue at the beginning of the bossfight is everything i ever wanted. i guess, Clockwerk has the shortest appearance in the game but still manages to make it impactful. whoever played the game during their childhood knows what i’m talking about - the music, the dialogue, the purple shooting cues: they all remain fresh in the head. the bossfight is the stuff of nightmares. Carmelita makes her final comeback in the perfect recipe for a climactic clash. she starts off as the damsel in distress that can’t be trusted because of her profession, but ultimately helps Sly take down Clockwerk. and i love that this is the beginning of Carmelita putting an end to Sly’s nemeses. her role is great here. yes, she’s the love interest that gets shamelessly left behind at the very end, but she’s the one that helps Sly get back his cain. actually, here’s something i’ve never thought of before: we make such a huge deal out of Carmelita being a playable character in Sly 3, that we all forgot she was playable in Sly 1 as well. i’m lowkey shocked. i don’t know how i overlooked this BUT ALSO shocked to just realise that in both Sly 1 and 3, Sly loses his cain (SP stuck to the original formula for final level suspense, i guess). and let me use that revelation to segue to Sly. he’s made it y’all!!! he’s finally here, ready to extract vengeance. and it shows. we might take his valour and chivalry for granted because this is the Sly we all know and love, but if this was your first time playing the game and somehow escaped all possible clichés by living under a rock your entire life, you’ll appreciate the raccoon’s persistence to save Carmelita. he didn’t have to do it, but he did it. let me praise Kevin Miller here for a sec, because without his voice-acting this would mean nothing. but it’s because of him that it means so much. when you finally beat Clockwerk and the cutscene starts playing and Sly says how he’s made it, it really feels like home, y’know? damn. also: Bentley and Murray finally come into the spotlight. i don’t want to go into detail because i’d rather talk about friendship in the cottdamn Themes section, but Cold Heart of Hate is what makes them true characters.

Themes: off the top of my head? legacy, revenge, friendship, love trumps hate, climax, heat, honour, the past, and many more. i’ll go with my favs because this deserves a post on its own. friendship goes hand-to-hand with love trumps hate because it’s represented by everyone that came out to support Sly. Bentley, Murray and Carmelita come through. they put their fears and differences aside and prevail to help Sly get to the top. they all play their roles, their motivation being love for the raccoon, and that comes into stark contrast with Clockwerk’s preachings. the age-old “good vs evil”. Clockwerk stayed alive by feeding on hatred and got his ass kicked by a group of friends and the love interest (not yet a woman on her own). it’s traditional and it works. similarly to Tide of Terror, the theme of heat ensures that the player is kept engaged. there’s no time to roam around, find clue-bottles, etc. the need to finish this as quickly as possible is enhanced by the volcano landscape and the high temperature. this is especially seen in Sinking Peril because of the rising lava. if you waste time you will literally get gobbled up. the lava encapsulates Sly’s progress and his temper as well. he’s burning inside, itching to finally get revenge (you’ll notice that Sly 1 has no operations and that presents the gang’s early days, Sly’s rash attitude and his persistence to just go up to the main baddie and fight). and the heat’s significance is ultimately shown when Clockwerk sinks into the lava. he doesn’t only get blown up - he “dies”, sinking into the volcano, deteriorating in the heat, showing how time is inescapable. there’s some karmic energy going on here, as Clockwerk cheated the Coopers of a normal death and in turn got served, showing that even if you find a way to stay alive it ultimately won’t work. i also want to touch on motifs, and the motif of technology is a nice one. it doesn’t only showcase Clockwerk’s genius, but it also allows for Bentley to go head-to-head with the owl. there’s something truly cyber about Cold Heart of Hate, but not in the traditional sense. like, the collapsing computer screens during Burning Rubber feel absurdly surreal, pushing the cyber-ness to its limits. i don’t even know anymore, i’m tired.

What I Like: hmmm... i like traversing Clockwerk’s lab. i love Sinking Peril. i love that the end cutscene gifted humanity with those Japanese Barbie Girl rainbow videos. there’s no room for likes and dislikes here, but favourite detail would definitely have to be Clockwerk’s health-bar animations during the bossfight, slowly turning from owl to computer brain thing. very reminiscent of a purple yak toy in a Cartoon Network show which i’m dying trying to remember. if anyone knows what i’m going on about lmk please.

What I Don’t Like: the lack of a hub to explore kinda irks me but i won’t say i don’t like it because i understand why they didn’t include one. instead, this spot goes to Murray’s driving and Bentley’s hacking. thematics aside, i literally do not want to replay Cold Heart of Hate because of the Murray section with the slime monsters. the controls continue to be clunky, the slime monsters are annoying and look like they have raisins for eyes. Bentley’s hacking isn’t as annoying, but it’s definitely frustrating. it’s a far cry from Sly 2 and 3′s hacking parts... yea.........

Quote: Perfection has no age...

#it sure as hell doesnt! #this was hard to write #sly cooper #episode project #sly 1 episodes: DONE

[peppermintbutch]

6€ Ink Commissions!

I’ve been really bored and basically Online 24/7 during this lockdown and I just got a really cool new glass quill + ordered some new inks so I’ve decided I’ll be offering cheap little ink drawings/paintings for anyone who’d be interested! I really really need ideas and an excuse to draw because I Won’t do it on my own and I’d like to make a little bit of money on my own (this is by no means a donation post though, I’m doing okay!)

I’ll draw pretty much anything (within morals ofc but that goes without saying, and I’m not comfortable drawing explicit nsfw or anything like that (figure drawings etc are ok)) from ocs over pets, partners to abstract unspecific concepts, I’d also love to try my hand at tattoo designs even though I don’t have experience with that, so don’t expect perfect results! You can decide if you want something more specific or leave it more open (regarding both motif and style/colors - I ordered some colored inks and will be able to do most colors with them! You can also choose if you just want lineart or shading/colored accents!) I probably won’t do super detailed and time-consuming pieces for this prize though! The drawings will vary in size between about A5 to A7, probably on sketchbook watercolor paper, and you’ll get it scanned in, which works pretty ok with ink, if you want it shipped to you please lmk and I’ll see what I can do! Every commission will be 6€ and can be paid for over paypal, and there might be varying degrees of detail depending on whether or not I got carried away dfsjkb but you can probably expect something along the lines of the examples above (just better quality scans ;-)) 

Hope everyone reading this is doing alright and stay safe!

#lmk if you think the prize is ok for this kind of drawing! I wanted to make them affordable #since I'm doing this for fun and am not a professional artist and don't depend on this as like my sole source of income or anything #commissions #commissionwor #ink drawing #idk rb this is you wanna boost that'd be great! :-)