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#also with this team i want a breakfast club au
deepdeanvsweston · 2 months
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I give you sports headcannons - mix of modern au and canon era (I was on wikipedia for like 45 minutes looking at sports)
Daisy:
- horsegirl Daisy
- absolutely used to pretend to be a horse on the playground
- she's never competed though she's just really good at riding horses
- obviously also good at parkour
- forever giving the maids a heart attack as a child by sitting atop of tall cabinets she'd climbed and saying boo
- decent at swimming and did a few swimming galas Yr7 - Yr8, but her love for it died out after DSS
George:
- he was a baby who cried a lot and so his mother used to take him on runs with her to calm him down
- this has stayed with him and he goes running before breakfast a lot
- has a lot of pent up energy that helps with endurance when running
- Lavinia often goes running with him
- really good at dancing, like waltzing and such, likes knowing the steps and finds it reassuring
- also really love the idea of figure skater or ballet dancer George
Aleks:
- Doesn't do it anymore, but had a scooter as a little boy and was revered by other 7 year olds because he could do cool tricks with it
- lowkey wants to get back into it except he's too tall for a scooter now
- can fence (his father made him and his brother learn)
- I can't decide if he's shit at sports or absolutely brilliant at them
- if we're saying he's good at sports, I imagine he's Weston School's sporty golden boy
- does triathlon and on the cricket team
- (Hazel always goes bright red when he's in his cricket uniform)
Hazel:
- bad at agility strength so she's shit at parkour (dw Hazel we all know George had to give you that shove over a wall in Case Of The Missing Treasure)
- but she's really good at standing her ground???
- she's really good at contact sport she just doesn't like them
- Lavinia reckons she'd be pretty good at lacrosse
- on the reserve hockey team, despite protests
- she actually gets into roller derby and her name is 2 Rights Don't Make A Wong
- Daisy ALWAYS cheers the loudest at her games
Lavinia:
- canonically good at tennis
- she pretty much sticks to tennis, she thinks 'why work on others when I could work on one sport and just get really good at it'
- she goes running with George like I said though
- it's a good warmup for tennis, and she doesn't have to think about much when doing it
- always fancied doing something like wrestling or boxing though
Kitty:
- always finding some unusual fitness class to go to (and drag Beanie along with her)
- think aerial hoops, or aquacise
- she can never stick with them for long though
- she hates getting sweaty, or muddy, or pushed over so despises sports at Deepdean
- but joins a synchronised swimming club and is actually getting really good at it, and really enjoys it
- especially the fact that looking pretty and presentable is like half the whole thing
Beanie:
- goes to all Kitty's unusual fitness classes like I said
- neutral on them, goes just to hang with Kitty
- like Daisy, good at horseriding, used to do a few dressage competitions as a teen
- did ballet as a toddler, sort of misses the baby classes where all you had to do was point your toes and you didn't have to think about the next steps or balancing or anything like that
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isara0408 · 2 months
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Another science club AU cuz why not lol
Roommates!ScienceClub AU
The five are attending a university (not Akademi) to continue their studies while also working in their fields.
They all live in a house with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a huge kitchen, and a big living room. It is close to their school campus, which is a good thing. It also does have a huge laboratory underground.
They all pay rent. They divide the rent and bring the money together once they all have it.
They have robots that clean their house instead of themselves. They're busy with their jobs and homework from their university.
Yaku is the peacemaker in the house. The one to stop fights when they start between the others.
Yaku is the cook, lol. He makes the food for all of them to eat. He even goes grocery shopping by himself or brings one of the members with him. (Mostly Meka, or Horo, or both.)
The five have days where they hang out together at home or out in the streets. It's a day of relaxation.
Whenever they go out, they go to the bar to enjoy themselves. The one who ends up drunk is Horo. The one who is most sober is probably Kaga. He knows the damage alcohol can make in someone's body, so he wouldn't want to drink. Oh, and Yaku, too.
Whenever Yaku does cook food ( breakfast, lunch, and dinner), each of the members eats differently. For example:
Yaku eats it normally like any other person but never eats junk food unless there's nothing else to eat and the only option.
Meka only eats foods that come from animes, or foods are sponsored by animes (This is canon, I believe). She enjoys the food (unless she has a project due then, she'll eat it quick)
Homu eats it quickly. She doesn't care. She wants food that can eat quickly so she can move on with her day. (I imagine her shoving the food in her mouth, but like neatly )
Horo enjoys his time with food. (Unless there's a project due) but overall, he does enjoy the food Yaku makes.
Kaga doesn't really eat much because of his eating disorder (Headcanon). They all know that Kaga has an eating disorder, and his interest in eating is non-existent. Yaku makes small portions of foods for Kaga to eat, knowing that he'll most likely going to leave it on the table. Either that, or Yaku makes a smoothie for Kaga to drink that has enough protein and nutrients for him. Whenever Yaku makes him food, Kaga stares at it as if it was poisoned or with irritation since he doesn't feel like eating it.
Whenever one of them gets sick, the other four take care of the sick one. (And Kaga mostly tries to make a cure and test it, but they always stop him).
Yaku and Horo share a lot of gay moments with each other. Yaku always flirts with Horo for fun even though Horo smacks him in response. However, when Horo is drunk, it's a different response. 👀 ( I might do a one short on this)
Their love lives are uh, there lol. Yaku has a lot of crushes but never enters a relationship, Horo has a lot of admirers, Meka has a few boys who have crushes on her, and Homu is not interested in romance at the moment. Kaga is too eccentric for anyone to handle him unless they are willing to take the challenge. (He doesn't know Megami or met her before until later in the year)
Yaku always wears his visor. No matter where he is. He wears them unless he's sleeping or showering. He doesn't have good eyesight and doesn't express emotions very well, so he has his visor to help him with that. The four always get weirded seeing Yaku without his visor.
Homu was able to build the robot that is the replica of her twin, but she has her in her room.
Meka has a few posters in her room of her favorite mega animes, while Yaku has a few posters and figurines of the animes he's interested in. They talk a lot about anime.
Kaga is the most positive person in the team. When he's down or negative in any way, the four know something is wrong.
Considering that they are roommates, they are already used to each other. They like a small family. They have each other's backs. If one of them gets hurt by another person, they will give the cold shoulder or try to hurt them in return. (Not physically. They can't fight). However, they will use a robot to do it.
Each of them dresses up differently, and they know what clothes belong to who. It's easy for them.
Each year on the day Homu's sister died, the five go to her grave and decorate it. It's a way to make Homu spend time with her sister and the gang and make her feel better. :3
They all come together and study even if they have different interests. It's a way to spend time together.
Whenever they wake up, Kaga is the one with the most energy. No one really knows where he gets all of his energy from for the day and when he's fatigued too.
There are times when Kaga collapsed because he didn't eat enough food, or sleep for a period of time, or even both. He was taken to the hospital multiple times to get checked. Horo is the one to carry him to the hospital.
In the laboratory, they all share it, but they have their own section to focus on their interest.
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sarah-in-disguise · 2 years
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Love on the Rocks
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader (Curling AU), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (platonic), Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)
Warnings: a few swear words, angst with a fluffy ending
Summary: As you prepare for an upcoming curling match with Steve (your partner in mixed doubles curling and in life), an out of sorts day may put your game - and your love - on the rocks.
Word Count: 2922
A/N: This is my second time writing and I’m posting this one-shot as a participant in the @syntheticavenger​ 11K - In It To Win It Challenge.  I chose curling as my sport (if you don’t know much about curling and want to learn a few basics, check out the World Curling Federation website and watch the super short YouTube video at the top of the page) and spun the wheel to get assigned 2010’s for my decade.  There is also a flashback in the middle of this one-shot, and I’ve italicized it so it sticks out.  Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third-party site or app.  This is a work of fiction and I do not own any characters in this story.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.  Moodboard picture sources are Google and Canva.
Make sure to check out my brand new masterlist!
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Walking into the curling rink, you can’t help but feel on edge.  Today was just supposed to be a practice to get ready for next weekend, but Steve had been acting strange all day.  Risking a glance over at him, you still couldn’t tell what was wrong.
It was usually your job to be on edge before matches, and thankfully Steve knows you well enough that he’s always there to lighten the mood.  That was not the case this morning when you noticed his odd behavior during breakfast.  When you asked him if everything was OK, he looked like a deer in the headlights before quickly dismissing you and leaving the room.
Approaching the locker rooms to get ready, your anxiety kicks up another notch when you have to tug on his arm to remind of your pre-warm up kiss.  A kiss has been part of your warm up routine before every match since you started dating.  The fact he almost skipped it makes the unsettled feeling in your stomach sink even deeper.  As you swap your boots for your curling shoes, you try to remember a time he’d been this distant with you.  Thinking back to the night you first met, Steve had been nothing but confident in every interaction you’d had with him…
As you walked into the rink with Natasha, you couldn’t help the squeal of excitement that escaped your lips.  You had recently moved to town for a new job and you quickly bonded with Natasha at work.  While you could tell your personalities meshed well from the start, what really brought you together was your love of the winter Olympics - most specifically - curling.  You’d spent much of the last few weeks together watching teams compete at all hours of the day thanks to the games being held in PyeongChang.
When Natasha had mentioned she was part of a local curling club and invited you to her next practice, you had been a bit skeptical.  You weren’t the athletic type, but after a lot of convincing (and a few drinks), you had finally agreed to give it a try.
“I’d ask if you were excited,” she drawled out with a smirk on her face, “but the squeal you just let out already answered that question.”  You rolled your eyes at her but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.  You were beyond thrilled to see the game played up close and even try throwing a few rocks yourself, but before you made it to the ice, you were stopped by a tall blond built like a brick house shooting you an award winning smile.
“Nat, good to see you.”  God, that voice could melt you and the ice on the spot.  “This the newbie you’ve been telling me about?”  The smirk he gave you made your cheeks heat up.
“Don’t scare her away just yet, Rogers,” she responded.  “I heard you need a new mixed doubles partner.  She’s even more competitive than you, which means you might be able to stick with someone for more than a few weeks.  What have you been through so far this season, eleven different partners?”
After sending a glare at Natasha, he made eye contact with you again.  “Ignore her.  The name’s Steve by the way,” he said as he extended his hand to shake your clammy one.  “I’m the captain of the curling club.  I don’t usually teach lessons for beginners, but I’ll gladly make an exception if you think you might be interested in being my mixed partner when you’re ready to compete.”
Your mouth drops open and you stare at both of them in shock.  “I’m flattered, honestly, but don’t you think you should see if I’m any good before you make an offer like that?”  The self-doubt settling in is a real concern at this point.  While you were good at a lot of things in life, the first thing on that list was being competitive to the point that when you know you won’t succeed or have trouble with something, you walk away.  What if Natasha got Steve’s hopes up to have you self-combust?
Steve shakes his head and shoots you another award-winning smile.  “If you’re half the person Natasha has gone on about the past few weeks, I’m sure you’ll do great.  Nat, get her to the locker rooms so I can start with practice.  We don’t have all night!”
As he walks away and Natasha drags you towards the women’s locker room, you start to overthink everything.  How were you supposed to learn how to curl from Steve?  You weren’t even sure you could concentrate enough to put together a full sentence around him at this point.  That perfect, blue-eyed son of a bitch was going to melt you into a puddle.
“Natasha!”  Your whisper came out a bit harsher than you anticipated, but at this point you didn’t care.  “What the HELL were you thinking?  YOU were supposed to teach me how to do this, not that literal Adonis out there!  How am I supposed to do this without making a fool of myself?”
“Everything is going to be fine,” she answered with a smile as she started to change her shoes.  All this nervous energy needed an outlet, so you began pacing along the lockers.  “Steve’s a really sweet guy.  Even if you weren’t interested in curling, I probably would’ve still set you up on a date with him.”
That made you stop dead in your tracks.  “A DATE?!”  You turn to face her before sitting down on the bench next to her and shaking your head in disbelief.  “Please tell me this sham of yours is NOT doubling for a date.”
With a sigh, Natasha turned to face you.  “Have a little faith in me, will you?  I knew the minute I met you that you two would be perfect for each other, and that was before I knew how big of a curling fan you were.  You know I wouldn’t put you in this situation if I didn’t think you were going to blow Steve away tonight.”  While that made you feel a bit better, you were still on edge.  “Just lose a bit of this nervous energy before you go out there and you’ll do great.”
As you left the locker room and tried to settle the butterflies in your stomach, they doubled their efforts when you walked out and found a pair of blue eyes staring at you from across the sheet.  Before you had the best or worst night of your life, you grabbed Natasha by the arm.  “He’s really been through eleven partners so far this season?”
With that signature smirk, she responds.  “Yep.  All eleven thought they could charm him with a giggle and a smile before they found out how competitive he can get.”  She shook her head and let out a small laugh.  “That boy may be pretty, but he’s smart enough to figure out if someone isn’t in it for the right reasons.”
You ponder her answer for a few seconds.  “When you say not in it for the right reasons,” you glance over to see him sending a few practice rocks down the sheet before looking back at Natasha, “do you mean in curling or in relationships?”
You didn’t notice the tall brunette as he approached, but once he started to talk, you knew he’d heard at least part of your conversation.  “Why don’t you go over there and find out?”  Stunned, you looked up at him before he added, “I’m Bucky by the way.  It’s nice to meet you.”
Natasha quickly filled you in that Bucky was her mixed doubles partner and Steve’s best friend.  It wasn’t hard to figure out that he had something to do with putting this plan into place as well.  Somehow, that didn’t surprise you one bit.
“Based on what Nat’s told me, you’ll be fine.  We’ll be practicing on the sheet next to you.  If things start to go south, we’ll be right there.”  Everything that Bucky said made sense, so you took their good luck wishes and headed over to Steve.
“Ready to get started?”  You met his megawatt smile with a small one of your own, and with a nod of your head, you started your first lesson.
A smile crosses your face when you remember that first lesson.  Steve had been a great teacher.  His enthusiasm was contagious, and when he celebrated everything you did right, he slowly built your confidence up - allowing you to open up and be yourself with him.  He could even sense when you were being too hard on yourself and stopped your negative inner dialogue that could creep into your head.  A few curling lessons turned into a first “official” date, and the rest was history.
When you made your way out of the locker room, you found Steve having a tense conversation with Bucky and Nat.  As they notice you walking over, Steve grabs Bucky and abruptly ends the conversation to get the rocks ready on the other end of the sheet.  Natasha simply gave you a shrug before asking if you were ready to go.
“I think so.  Is it just me,” you ask, “or is Steve acting weird today?”  Natasha hums in response, but doesn’t answer.  “He’s been jumpy all morning.  We have a match coming up next weekend but he’s never behaved like this before.”
“Maybe he’s just nervous we’ll kick your asses in practice today.”  You shoot her a dirty look as she laughs and you start making your way down to the other end of the sheet.  “Loser buys drinks tonight, right boys?”  While Bucky responds with his typical booming laugh, Steve avoids your eye contact and starts getting his first rock ready to go.
As you and Steve alternate taking turns with Bucky and Nat to throw stones, Steve seems to get more and more in his head about whatever is bothering him.  His strategy is usually air-tight.  Now that you’ve played with him for over a year, you generally know what call he is going to make before he makes it.  Today his calls are all over the board and rarely make sense.  He was even having a hard time reading the ice, so his shouts of “HURRY, HURRY, HARD” to guide your rocks were few and far between.
Most people would brush this up to Steve having an off day, but you weren’t most people.  Even though it was Steve who wasn’t communicating what should be done, you took that out on yourself.  He had always been able to read you like a book and sense your internal negative self-talk before it caused too many issues.  Turns out those senses were off today, too.
After throwing your final stone of the seventh end (and completely missing the house), you were so far behind Nat and Bucky that it didn’t make sense to play the final end.  You were ready to be done.  Hell, even Nat and Bucky knew you were ready to be done.  You were tired of being frustrated and trying to hold back your traitorous tears and you were ready to put this whole day behind you.
As Bucky and Steve were getting the rocks ready for the final end, you shook your head and walked off the sheet of ice.  “I think we can be done now,” you throw over your shoulder as you keep walking to pick up your gym bag.  Throwing it over your shoulder, you turn to find everyone’s shocked faces staring back at you.  “We all have off days, right?”  Your laugh comes off flat as you break eye contact to stare at the floor and try to hold the tears in.  “Good game, guys.  Can we rain check those drinks until later this week?  I’m not feeling the greatest.”
When you turn and start walking towards the doors, you hear Steve running and calling after you.  “Hey, hey wait.  Sweetheart!”  It doesn’t take long for him to catch up to you and turn you to face him.  You’re far enough away from Bucky and Natasha that you don’t even try to hide your tears anymore as they stream down your face.  “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”
You scoff and try to look away, but Steve keeps a strong hold on your face as he thumbs away a few tears.  “This isn’t working, Steve.”  You can’t help but catch how his face drops.
“What do you mean, this isn’t working?”
“Steve, everyone has off days.  Today obviously isn’t a good day for us, and we can’t force it to work.”  A bit of relief reaches his eyes as you continue.  “I’m sure by now even Nat and Buck can tell this just isn’t working today.  Let’s just go home and forget about it, OK?”
Steve looks like he’s about to give in, but then a determined glint shines in his eyes.  “I know I’ve been acting weird today, and I’m sorry I wasn’t supporting you like a good partner should.  Can you trust me and give this another chance?  Let’s give ‘em hell in this last end, yeah?”  A small smile spreads across your face as your regular version of Steve comes back.  “I promise I won’t let you down, sweetheart.  What do you say?”
“Ok,” you say in a small voice, but he’s close enough to hear it.  After a quick peck to your lips, Steve grabs your hand as you head back to finish the last end.  Natasha shares a smile with you as you get back on the sheet, causing you to miss the look or relief Steve shared with Bucky.  After Natasha throws her first stone, Steve is back in the zone with shouts of encouragement as he coaches you to sweep your first stone of this end into place.
The next few stones are thrown as expected, and you share a quick smile with Steve as he heads down to throw the last rock of the match.  Although he looks nervous to throw this one, he sends it right on track down the sheet of ice.  You hardly have to yell at him to sweep at all and the rock ends up with perfect placement right in front of your feet.  There was no way you were going to catch up to Bucky and Nat to win the match, but at least you came back to redeem yourself in the final end.
After sharing a sweet kiss with Steve and telling your friends they played a good game today, you were ready for a drink and some greasy bar food to end the day.  Before you could walk off the ice, Steve grabbed your arm to pull you back.
“Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”  You give him a confused look, but nod your head, silently telling him to continue.  “Can you check over that last rock I threw?  It didn’t seem curl enough as it should’ve on its way down here.”
As you turn around to look at the stone behind you, your breath hitches and tears start to form in your eyes.  Written on the last rock Steve threw were the words ‘Marry Me?’ along with a diamond ring hanging off the handle.  When Steve clears his throat, you spin around to find him down on one knee behind you, causing you to quickly lose balance.  Luckily, his hands find your waist so he can guide you to sit on his knee before you face-planted onto the cold ice below.
When he smiles at you, it all starts to make sense.  Steve acting off all day, all the weird shared glances between him and your friends - even the pep talk to get you back on the ice for the last end.  It was all leading to a proposal from the man of your dreams.
“I hope you understand why I was so off today, sweetheart.  You are the perfect partner both on and off the ice, and I didn’t want to screw this up.”  With a small nod from you, he continues.
“I love you so much.  You mean more to me than anything or anyone else ever could, and while today didn’t go exactly how I planned because I couldn’t get out of my head, I know there isn’t anyone else I’d want to share this life with.”
With steady hands, he stops to brush a few tears off your cheeks before he leans down to pull the diamond ring off the curling stone handle.  Taking your shaking left hand in his, Steve looks right into your eyes with a look of determination you’ve never seen before.  “Will you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?”
“Yes,” you whisper with a smile and a nod of your head.  “Of course I mmph!”  Steve didn’t think that sentence needed to be finished as he pressed his lips to yours in a short but eager kiss.  When you pulled away to get some air, you beamed as he looked down to slide the most beautiful ring you have ever seen on your left hand.
Soon, you could hear shouts of excitement from Bucky and Nat as they came over to join in your celebration.  While today certainly didn’t start out like you had planned, you can’t help but look at your best friends and newly minted fiancé without thinking your life will always be best when it’s spent on the rocks.
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talentbloomed · 8 months
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What does your muse smell like?
Apart from products (cologne, moisturizers, deodorants, etc) Tooru naturally smells sweet ! Like even after a volleyball game, he still smells good ahahaha
What does your muse's hands feel like?
His hands are calloused from playing volleyball but he takes good care of his hands so they aren’t as rough as one would expect from someone who practices the sport so intensively
What does your muse usually eat in a day?
Mostly leftovers as his mother works two jobs and his older sister no longer lives at home. Breakfast usually consists of something simple like onigiri or toast. Occasionally after volleyball practice, he goes out with Hajime and his team to get ramen or a beef bowl. He eats milk bread at every chance he gets !! He drinks a lot of coffee too, even more than tea. Tooru’s a mess in the kitchen so if he has to cook, it’s mostly instant stuff ! In threads where he has a partner, they’re usually the one who cook for him first and Tooru eventually learns because he wants to cook for them too ! I also noticed that in my other threads with friends or aus with a twin, they make or get food for him too and it’s the sweetest thing wlejnfwlje thank you for feeding my boy qwq
Does your muse have a good singing voice?
He does ! He used to sing songs to Takeru to help calm him down or make him fall asleep. Tooru also sings his heart out at karaoke !! (here is tooru’s va singing ponyo)
Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?
One of his bad habits is self-harming. Whenever he performs badly, his anxieties/ frustrations about his self-worth and skill get to be too much and he cuts himself as a form of punishment. He does it on the right side of his hip as it’s the only place where no one will be able to see. Another bad habit is falling asleep with his contacts in after he gets home from school. As for nervous ticks, he twirls a finger into his bangs or fidgets with his hands before or during a volleyball game.
What does your muse usually look like/wear?
At school, he wears the Seijoh school and volleyball club uniforms. At home, his favourite lounge wear is a sweater paired with shorts. Outside, he’s experimenting with wearing skirts ! Tooru’s fringe is cut shorter in the beginning of timeskip but he grows it back out later. When it gets to be too long, he uses bobby pins to pin them back out of his eyes.
Is your muse affectionate? How so?
Anyone who’s interacted with Tooru knows that he’s suuuper affectionate ! If he’s very close to someone, one part of Tooru is usually touching the other person somewhere. He loves hugging, it gives him energy ! And in a relationship, it increases tenfold. Kisses, holding hands, cuddling---he loves to touch and be touched by his partner ;W;
What position does your muse sleep in?
Usually on his side but if his cat is sleeping with him, Mochi would sleep on his legs so he’s forced to sleep on his back and his legs get cramped and sore in the mornings LOL
Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?
Definitely !! Tooru’s voice commands for everyone’s attention wWLEJNFWLJ
tagged by: @multianime ( thank you so much !! this was fun~ ) tagging: @kisumshi, @faehir​, @mymanymerrymuses​, @prudenze​, @strawberrycolaaa​, @lunargifted​, @kingheld​ !!
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capricornwriter5 · 9 months
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Always on time - Chapter 16b
Pairing: Jooheon x female OC
Genre: childhood friends to enemies, enemies to friends, friends to lovers, smut (later chapters), fluff, angst, slow burn, idol AU!
Warning: mentions of mental health issues, mentions of workaholic disorder, curse words
Words: 2.3k
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Chapter 16b
"It’s ridiculous," Julie told Ivy on the phone.
"I agree that it is a disproportionate amount, but the owners of the club say they will not accept less than that to rent the club".
"What about the fair? Do we have news from them?"
"I’m trying to pressure them a bit, but they know we want to record on-site and they’re taking advantage of that," Ivy replied. "If they find out what’s going on with the club, they’ll probably ask for more money too".
"I will not pay more" Julie said. "The offer was already generous, asking more than that is simple greed... No".
"Well, do you have a plan?"
It was Saturday morning and no, Julie didn’t have any plan B, she just knew she wasn’t going to give up.
"Give me a few hours to figure out what to do, although we probably have to find somewhere else to film," she replied.
"I’ll get a team to do a research of other locations, but we are running against time, Julie."
"I know," Julianne said with a sigh. "But this is all very strange... Something is not right. I’m going to tell Areum-ah to look into it because I’m sure something else is going on. For the moment, I will go to the fair to see if they can give us an answer today".
"Okay, Julie, we’ll talk later."
When she hung up the phone, Julianne started thinking about how to solve the whole thing. She had just gotten up and it was only 6:30 in the morning. The fair opened at 10 a.m. but it was an hour and a half drive, so she would have to leave her house at 8 a.m. to arrive before they opened and be able to talk to the owners.
At least I can bathe and have breakfast, Julie thought as she went into the bathroom.
An hour later, Julie was bathed, dressed, had finished breakfast, and was taking the last sips of her coffee when someone rang her apartment bell. Surprised, she opened the door and ran into...
"Jooheon-ssi?" she asked.
"Good morning, Jules," he replied. "Ready?"
"Ready... for what?"
"Areum-ah didn’t tell you?" he asked, surprised. "She told me she would call you..."
"Wait a minute..." Julie said as she went to get her phone. "Mmmm, come in... if you want".
Jooheon entered the apartment and Julianne went to get her cell phone. She had left it on her bed, so she hadn’t heard it vibrate when Areum called her three times. She also had multiple messages from her friend and the last one was an audio:
YAH! Julieeee, answer the phone, will you? Ivy already told me what’s going on and I’m going to investigate the matter with the club, but I don’t think you should go to the fair alone. Neither I nor Ivy can accompany you, so I called Jooheon to take you... and don’t come at me angry or resentful. I gave him your apartment address, so he should be here any minute. Don’t fight!.... And next time, answer your phone!
Well, Julie’s thousand questions were already answered.
Since she had already finished breakfast, she grabbed her bag and cell phone and went into the living room.
"Did you talk to Areum-ah?" Jooheon asked.
"Yes, she already explained... Come on, we have to get there before they open".
******
"Mr. Jung, how are you? This is Seo Julianne from Highlight Entertainment," Julie began on the phone. "I wanted to know if you have a few minutes free today to talk about the rental space for filming a music video. If you have any questions or concerns regarding the previously proposed terms, we can go over them again. We are now a little short of time and your confirmation is the only one we are missing. I know you are a very busy person, but I would appreciate it if you would give us a few minutes of your time today to talk about it. Please call me as soon as you hear this message. Have a nice day".
Julie cut the call and sat on a park bench in front of the fairground attractions.
It was 10 in the morning and people were lining up to enter. Both had arrived about 30 minutes ago and the staff had told them that Mr. Jung and his son had not yet arrived, but that in any case the weekends were extremely busy days, so the chances of talking to them were minimal.
"You know he’s not going to call you back, right?" Jooheon said sitting next to her. "He’s going to call you a day before the filming asking for some... 10 thousand won more to rent the place".
"And you know that because..."
"Because I’ve seen it a thousand times," Jooheon replied. "It’s probably not the first production team that asks for the place, so they know that there are always a few thousand won extra in the budget and that producers have the authority to use it with discretion".
"I see" was all Julie said.
They remained silent for a while until Jooheon stood up.
"Come on," he said.
"Yes, I guess we have to go back to Seoul and..."
"No... Let’s go to the fair," Jooheon said. "I haven’t gotten the chance to ride any type of attraction in years, come on."
"Are you crazy? We can’t go".
"Why not?"
"Well, for starters, we have to see how we solve this" Julie began. "And secondly... someone there can recognize you and the last thing I need is a thousand girls screaming in my ear".
"Well, let’s see, for starters, it’s easy: we found another place. Do you have any other place in mind?"
"Well... no, I’d have to..."
"Well, then we can’t do anything with point one," Jooheon cut. "And with the second problem, here I have an advanced technology device that will help me camouflage myself... I present you: the masks".
Julie couldn’t help but laugh drily.
"Come on, I promise you they won’t recognize us. And even if they do, they’ll think it can’t be me because what are the chances?" Jooheon insisted. "Besides, we’ve come this far, the least we can do is take advantage of the trip, don’t you think?"
******
Three hours later, Julie couldn’t feel her feet anymore.
She had spent all morning following Jooheon from one attraction to another. She didn’t understand how he still had energy and had to beg him to stop to rest and eat something. So there she was, sitting at an outdoor table, as far away as possible from large groups of people, waiting for Jooheon to bring their lunch.
Tomorrow my back will kill me, Julie thought as she lay on the table.
"Lunch is served, Jules," Jooheon said upon arrival.
He was holding two hot dogs and two packs of instant ramen. He also took two boxes of juice out of his pocket.
"Wow, slow down, Jules," Jooheon said. "If you eat so fast, you’ll get sick".
"Don’t start, I’m hungry" she replied grabbing the juice box. "It wasn’t me who dragged you all over the park".
Jooheon just laughed and watched as Julie flipped the juice box and tried to open it underneath. Since they were in school, Julie had a unique way of drinking the juice: she always tried to put the straw through one of the corners in the bottom because she said that was how you could drink the pulp and not only the sugar.
Jooheon also remembered that the girl always made a mess, so he took the juice box from her hands before half of its contents were spilled on her clothes.
"You know, this is the last thing I thought to do for you after seven... eight years of not seeing each other," the rapper said as he opened the box at the bottom. "Here".
Julie did not answer as her mouth was full of food, so they both continued eating in silence until they finished.
"Ready?" Jooheon asked when he saw Julie finishing her meal.
"Yes, let’s go back to Seoul and..."
"Hold on, Jules" Jooheon cut it off. "There’s a place we have to visit first".
Julie sighed and tried to contain her anger.
"You’re fucking kidding, aren’t you?" Julie said softly. "Didn’t you get on all the rides at the fair? What else do you need?"
"I need you to trust me and follow me," the rapper said standing up.
Julie had no choice but to follow him. After all, he had the car keys, and a taxi from there to Seoul was very expensive; also, Julie didn’t know what bus to take to get out of there and her cell phone was running out of battery and...
"Stop thinking so much, will you?" Jooheon shouted at a distance. “I can see your brain cells working on how to dump me here. It’ll only be 20 minutes, I promise".
"20 minutes" Julie repeated between her teeth and followed the rapper.
Jooheon left the fair and started walking to the opposite side of the parking lot. Around there were many green areas that people used to walk around, have picnics, go on dates... So there were a lot of people, but Jooheon took them down a less crowded road.
The cobblestones on the floor indicated that they were not lost and that it was an official road, but as they advanced there were fewer and fewer people.
"Yah, Jooheon-ah, do you at least have any idea where you are going?" Jules asked exasperated.
"Of course" he replied. "Besides, I still have 10 minutes of grace. Come on, I think we are close".
Julie followed him in silence with her eyes fixed on the floor. By not looking forward, she did not notice when Jooheon stopped and hit her head on the rapper’s back.
"YAH! Jooheon-ah..."
"We’re here, what do you think?" he said.
Julie looked up and... didn’t know what to say.
They were in a part of the park that was empty, probably because of how hidden the road was and the fact that there were tall trees all around. However, the place looked like something taken from a fantasy book: there was a large kiosk in the center adorned with lights and colorful fabrics. Some fabrics reached the top of the trees, giving the feeling of being under a huge tent. In addition, all around there were statues of fantastic characters such as a guminho, a dragon, a white tiger, a black turtle, and a dokkaebi, all with a brick base with lights that were probably illuminated at dusk. That was not all, the grass was cut in a way that, seen from the kiosk, presented spiral designs. 
"Where are we?" Julie asked.
"Well... I’m not sure of the name," Jooheon admitted. "I saw the colors of the fabrics when I was on top of one of the roller coasters. As I was in the first seat, I could take a look around before we went down and it seemed strange. I got on the ride again to confirm that I had not dreamed it and you see, here we are".
"That’s why you got on three times in a row, to see the place".
"Weeeell, yeah," the rapper admitted. "It occurred to me that we could use this place as a plan B. After all, the part of the fair you wanted to use was the part where the circus tent is with the lights on the poles, right? This could work out. Just ask permission from the local office, the procedure can be a bit complex, but anything is better than paying more to those..."
"THANK YOU!" Julie shouted hugging Jooheon and taking the rapper off guard. "Yes, we can use it, and being public, the cost is not so high... All we have to do is figure out what papers to file, but I think Areum-ah knows someone who can help us with that. I’m gonna call her and..."
"Wow, calm down Jules" Jooheon stopped her. "It’s Saturday and it’s almost 3 in the afternoon. Areum-ah is sure exhausted after the week you guys had, why don’t you tell her on Monday?"
The comment was completely harmless, but Julianne felt a bad taste in her mouth. Anyone with eyes would have noticed that she was jealous, but Julie simply threw away the feeling and pulled herself together.
"Well, at least we have this place" she agreed. "Thank you for your help, now we can go to back to Seoul and I can investigate more about it".
Julie started walking and Jooheon followed her quietly. The girl was behaving very strangely and Jooheon was not a very patient person to deal with unexpected mood swings. Anyway...
"Jules, while we’re here, how about going to the club?"
"I do not know..."
"It’s on our way and as it’s Saturday, the owners will be there to oversee sales. You could try talking to them one last time and decide if we need a new set".
"Maybe, yes..." Julianne agreed. "But, you shouldn’t go".
"And why not?" Jooheon asked in surprise. "I’m sure I know more about clubs than you do".
"That’s not why, Jooheon-ssi," she replied.
And back to the formalities, Jooheon thought.
"As you said, it’s almost 3 in the afternoon and, if I understood correctly, you can’t work on Saturdays afternoons," Julianne explained.
SHIT, thought Jooheon.
"Who told you that?" he asked.
"Ivy"
Arggg, shit
"Ahhh, sure," Jooheon said. "Don’t worry, Jules. She probably told you that so my schedules wouldn’t clash with other projects, but today I’m free. I’m all yours".
Julie wasn’t entirely convinced. Jooheon was speaking an octave higher than normal and that happened when he was nervous and when he was lying.
"Look, I promise you won’t have any trouble, okay?" continued Jooheon. "We’re just two friends going out on a Saturday afternoon".
Julie didn’t quite believe him, but she wanted to get over with it as soon as possible, so she just agreed.
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lonestardaily · 2 years
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Each week Lone Star Daily looks to provide you with a decent (not comprehensive) list of the fanfics that have been posted for the week. The week runs from Friday - Thursday, as that way it does give us an opportunity to put the list together. There’s no requirement to tag us as we will check the tags #911 lone star fic and #911lsfic while also combing through ao3. We currently are only going to post new fics, not updates. You can check out this week’s fics below the cut.
Thanks to the wonderful @lutavero​, you can now find all our past recs on this page.
Please feel free to give this post a boost to give our writers a chance to receive some love for the work they do for the fandom.
(if your fic is not tagged with a tumblr, it’s because we couldn’t find one - feel free to send us a message and we’ll be happy to add one)
TARLOS FICS
'Til You Sizzle by @flickerthenflare​
↳  (TK x Carlos | Hurt/Comfort | M | 2.2K)
Carlos wants to take care of TK after he comes home to the loft.
pull me deep by @maxbegone​
​↳  (TK x Carlos | Domestic Fluff | M | 2.5K)
He bites his lip. “Babe,” he calls, and Carlos looks up.
“Mm?”
“I think I figured out what to watch.”
His brow furrows despite the amused smile as he walks back over. “What’s that?”
TK hums in the affirmative. “You.”
putting the truth before the lies by @sapphire11​
​↳  (TK x Carlos | 3 + 1 | T | 6.6K)
Carlos and his closest sister Josefina share each other’s secrets. They’ve been each other’s secret keepers since as long as Carlos could talk, but Carlos isn’t sure if he should share this latest secret. He wants to. He really, really wants to, but he’s worried about upsetting the delicate balance that exists within their family.
The coming out journey of Carlos Reyes to his four older sisters or 3 times Carlos came out to one of his sisters and 1 time he didn't have to (3 +1)
to live for the hope of it all by @strandnreyes​
​↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | E | 54.1K)
“We were between Honduras and the tip of Mexico when we went down.” He draws an X in the dirt. The area of the ocean that Carlos gestures to with his stick seems so miniscule, but TK knows it’s likely thousands of square miles. “We may have gotten slightly off course when we lost control, but yeah,” he slides his foot over the picture, effectively wiping it away. “It’s a start.”
His eyes are stormy and his brow is furrowed. TK wants to smooth it out with his thumb, he wants to wash the dirt off his neck and ask him why he looks like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, but all he can do is nod and hope the rescue team can find them as easily as the map made it seem.
save me tonight by @chaotictarlos​
​↳  (TK x Carlos | AU | G | 1K)
Carlos goes to the club and sees his ex, so he turns to TK for help.
In the burned house I am eating breakfast by @beautifulhigh​
​↳  (TK x Carlos | Angst | G | 5.3 K)
The fireman turns to face Carlos and for a second this was his eighth birthday, he was standing in the street with his new sneakers on his feet, and his dad was proud of him.
And then in the next second the street was empty of his family and bystanders and Carlos was standing there looking at a fire truck with the familiar numbers 126 on the side, and when the fireman opened his mouth a different voice came out to before.
“You’re going to be late.”
I find myself in pieces by LadyBugMolly09 & Road1985
​↳  (TK x Carlos | Angst | M | 1.7 K)
After Carlos being injury during a call, his life and TK's changes forever. He has to learn that his love doesn't end when you wake up and your legs doesn't work anymore, although that journey is a very long and hard one for both of them. 
A Long Night by masteroadtripper
↳  (TK x Carlos, TK x Andrea | Hurt/Comfort | G | 3 K)
Andrea loved her boys.  Carlitos was her baby, the youngest of her four beautiful children, but so was TK.  Ever since Gwyn had passed, Andrea had been trying to keep an eye out for the boy who’d been left without a mother far too young, and as much as the boys liked to think they were independent - they had an apartment together, they both had steady jobs - she knew that sometimes what they needed was a mother’s touch.
it’s not fate or love at first sight (it’s reality) by falloutmars
↳  (TK x Carlos, | Fluff | T | 2.1 K)
Carlos doesn't believe in love at first sight. Then he meets TK Strand.
Don’t you know I’m right here? by notapartytrick
↳  (TK x Carlos, | Fluff | M | 4.4 K)
3 times Carlos and TK came home to each other.
OTHER PAIRINGS/CHARACTER FICS
You are surrounded by love by @ramblingdisaster73
↳  (Andrea x 126 | Missing Scene | G | 2.7 K)
Andrea closed the door to TK’s hospital room, leaving her son inside. She looked around the waiting area, wondering where Owen was. She noticed a couple of girls staring intently at the room she had just exited, their hands gripped by the man sitting between them in a robe and pajamas. She hadn’t met any of the boy’s friends, but she had heard more than enough about the trio seated in front of her to know who they were.
See the world we’re making by @sapphire11
↳  (TK x the Ryders | Fluff | G | 1.7 K)
Judd and Grace's son comes to TK for some advice and TK feels lucky to be blessed with such a family.
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pooks · 2 years
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so if Callum is a teen growing up in Night Vale, it's only fair that he gets some friends too
in short, he and his friend is "a shitty version of the Breakfast Club, but super weird" according to Callum's words
so! the Night Vale Teen Gang:
Callum (obviously) Brodie Palmer-Blackwood-Sims - is the de facto leader - short and mad (lmao) - he is NOT an emo, despite the hair - a sucker for science, but if you tell him that then he'll deny it - a young eldritch being (Eye/Dark but mostly the Eye now) and calls himself the Acolyte (don't tell Jon tho) - founder of the GEBRIS (the Guild of Eldritch Beings' Rights in Society), a club at Night Vale High School
Timothy Lano - the offensive guard of the Night Vale Scorpions (the high school football team) and later, quarterback - tall, fast and a little buff - very kind and nice, although not the smartest (a true himbo <3 ) - ridiculously fond of Callum, his tiny boyfriend (oh my god they are boyfriends)
Lydia Monroe - local goth girl of the high school - very snarky and even more rude than Callum - extremely loyal once you gains her trust - rumored to be a vampire, no one knows for sure but she loves to freak people out about it - lesbian and crushes hard on Fay - she and Cal bonds over being gay and in love - they have frequent sleepovers
Fay Scarelli - aquatic (she becomes a merperson in contact with water) - member of the Night Vale High School Cheer Team - a kind and lovely person AND is very smart - she's very agile, both on land AND water - has water-based abilities, but doesn't usually use them unless it's emergency - she is extremely interested in the fear power (of what Callum told her) and made a little journal with diagrams and stuff - daughter to one of the richest people in Night Vale (her father is a businessman and owns most of the mall)
Tucker (yes, that's his first name) Kingston - african-american with stylish dreadlocks (he's proud of 'em) - running back of the Night Vale Scorpions - a smartass, hotshot guy with a witty comment on everything. ever. - is Tim's best friend since they were kids and has to endure his pining on daily basis
Janice Palmer - is THE honorary member - Callum never excludes her from anything and tells her everything - she and Cal bonds over a lot of things when they met - and then they become cousins which is having a best friend in the family - is the coolest cousin ever to Callum (his only cousin, but no one tell him that unless you want him to bitch at you) - encourages Callum to do his eldritch adventures things and message her the results - they also vibe to 80s music (Callum's guilty pleasure)
yup, as you probably has already guess, these teens are iconic as heck in Night Vale
(disclaimer: Callum Brodie belongs to TMA, Janice Palmer and Timothy Lano belongs to WTNV and the Welcome to Somewhere Else AU belongs to @sm0kebreaks @kerink and game-warden)
(i own Lydia Monroe, Fay Scarelli and Tucker Kingston, though)
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shprka · 2 years
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The true missed opportunity of Stranger Things should have been the older teens all solving the season's mystery together, Scooby Doo style and all the chaos that would cause
First and most obvious you have Nancy and Steve who have history
Steve and Jonathan who had a fight and Nancy basically cheated on Steve with Jonathan
Nancy and Jonathan are the only couple in the group and are disgustingly in love
Then you have Billy who has beef with everyone but he's the most intimating and strong and knows how to fight so they need him (who also inserts himself into the group because he's nosy, hates being left)
Billy is smarter than everyone gives him credit for (not book smarts but street smarts and the most emotionally intelligent out of the group, even though he acts like a dick). He keeps Nancy on her toes and Billy obviously doesn't like how she acts like she's better than him and also because she cheated on Steve
Him and Steve are rivals too but Billy likes Steve the best from the group but doesn't know how to show it
Steve is trying to be civil but is convinced Billy hates him, and is just plain tired of his bullshit. Also Billy beat the shit out of him that one time and they haven't resolved that so there's that
Also Steve is confused because Billy is bullying him but it feels like flirting (it is, in fact, just Billy flirting but in his dumb way)
Billy also has beef with Jonathan because of his involvement in the Steve/Nancy situation but also Billy sees himself in Jonathan, they have a lot in common and Billy hates how meek Jonathan is, even though he was strong enough beat the shit out of Steve
Robin she just eats snacks and is watching all the drama and chaos unfold
Robin is nosy but likes to keep her secrets close, like maybe she had a crush on Nancy at some point, and now she's BFFs with Steve and also knows Billy is super gay for Steve
Maybe Robin and Jonathan were friends when they were in primary school because they were outcasts and relentlessly bullied but stopped talking to each other suddenly and kept pretending like they don't know one another
Also Nancy (for all her book smarts) is bad at feelings so she's convinced that Robin and Steve are secretly dating and that Billy hates and bullies Steve
Their team name is the Scooby Gang
Also because it's fun Billy would be the Fred of the group, Steve is Daphne, Nancy is Velma, Jonathan has major Shaggy vibes and Robin, idk, I don't wanna say Scooby but then I laugh when I imagine her in a scooby fursuit 😆
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milf-harrington · 2 years
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📓 :)
breakfast club au!! this one is not as fleshed out as the other two summaries lmao buuutttt it's basically the movie but modernised and with the gaang and there aren't such aggressive social stereotypes/cliques (i also decided that other than sokka and katara, none of them actually know each other personally, they only know of each other)
anyway so it's got the same sort of opening with everyone getting dropped off and sitting down in the library before Fong (okay this is funny to me only bc i made Fong the bad guy before reading taob and now i feel vaguely justified purely bc of @hella1975) tells them the rules of detention and is also an all-around dick
the general hijinks of the breakfast club follow as they all get to know each other and resolve accidental conflicts as a result of NOT knowing each other
uhh
Suki is the captain of the soccer team, and she's in detention for kneeing a guy in the dick after he tried to feel up one of her teammates
Toph spends most of her time in the metal work room working on projects, and she doesnt even have detention she was just bored and also kind of wanted to have what she thought was an important high school experience
Zuko's in the drama club but he's known for being the angry kid, and he's in detention for randomly kicking his desk over and storming out of the room (he was struggling with sensory overload but doesn't know how to explain it so he just blows up)
Aang is a general sweetheart who everyone knows (floats between friend groups, just kinda vibes, v nice to everyone, bit of a class clown), he has detention for freeing the biology frogs bc he was supposed to dissect them in his class later that day and his teacher hadn't cared for his note asking to be excused for personal reasons
Katara is a big nerd about history and culture but also has a soft spot for marine biology bc of Sokka so she's in the marine biology club; she has detention for calling her teacher (pakku) out on his sexist bullshit when her and yue both got turned down for an opportunity to volunteer at the aquarium in favour of the boys who were only in the club to say they were in a club
Sokka is really smart and is in detention for accidentally blowing up a science lab with Azula, who managed to sneak away before she got caught which Sokka is both impressed by and salty over
The topic of zuko’s scar comes up the same way bender talks about his home life (maybe this time they find out that zuko’s in drama and they’re like ‘put on a show pretty boy’ and he’s all like “what im not doing that” and they needle and poke at him until he’s like “fine! You want a show?” and does a skit about his family dinner than night, playing between the characters of azula and ozai and someone asks what it’s from and he’s just like “oh that was just from dinner with my family”, and everyones like “excuse me”)
They still get weed but it’s aangs this time (it feels right)
Crop top sokkka supremacy
The only makeover that happens is Suki giving one to Sokka as a semi-joke but then zuko falls over when he sees it and sokka is like "aha he thinks im pretty"
they still have the chat about why they're in detention and bond over their reasons and find out they're all kinda similar and then become besties
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byunbaekby · 3 years
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title — the things i know pairing — soccerplayer!jisung x female reader genres — angst, fluff, high school au, strangers to lovers au, first love au, long distance relationship, hurt and comfort, coming of age overall warnings — underage drinking, cancer, character death, language, mentions of hickeys, fainting, mentions and descriptions of hospitals, soccer inaccuracies, lots of angst (you’ve been warned!) word count — 14.8k summary — jisung has never been keen on growing up, or even understanding what adulting means. at seventeen, all he knows is: he loves soccer (and he’s damn gifted at it), and girls are very pretty but also plenty scary. then he met you, his first love who turned his life upside down and made his stomach roll like the soccer balls he loved to kick around the field. but when your cancer comes back after years in remission, jisung thinks, he doesn’t really want to grow up anymore. playlist — falling, harry styles ; your guardian angel, red jumpsuit apparatus ; my first and last, nct dream ; bye my first, nct dream ; orchid, jeremy zucker
additional — for the heartbreak hotel collab hosted by @nct-writers​. my concept in the five stages of grief was “acceptance and hope.” thank you to my babes @suh-insane​ and @astroboy-lele​ for proof-reading!
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The thing about knowledge is that you never know when or what you’re going to learn. There’s no way for you to predict what will be of your mind when you fall into bed that night, surrendering to the moon. In the morning, there’s no telling what knowledge your brain will choose to store away for remembrance over the course of the night, and what your brain will decide is unnecessary. What you decide not to remember is a memory you can’t even miss. 
When you wake up every morning, you don’t know if you’ll go to bed having met someone who will change your life forever. 
At seventeen, there are two things that Park Jisung knows. One, he loves playing soccer (and he’s damn good at it, the way his long legs carry him across the field in what seems to onlookers like seconds). Two, girls are very pretty but plenty scary as well. 
The day starts out normally, like any other away game that the team plays.
He wakes up at six o’clock on the dot, and eats a large breakfast to hold him over for the game, then packs a few granola bars into his soccer bag and lets his sister know he’s leaving before he jogs the way to the park where the bus is waiting for his team. The ride is normally an hour long, so he either tucks his earbuds into his ears and tries to get in a short nap or he converses with his teammates. 
Today though, the bus ride is three hours long. Crossing his hoodie-clad arms across his chest to act against the cold air of the bus, he focuses his gaze outside and watches as the town goes by. 
“Yo, Jisung, check this out!” 
At the sound of his name he turns his head, blinking when he sees a number of his teammates in the surrounding area nudging him closer. A few of them are leaning in towards a particular teammate, who displays a proud expression. “What’s up,” asks Jisung as he too leans forward toward his team member, curiosity slightly piqued.
Jaemin, the teammate in question, tugs the collar of his jersey down to reveal his skin. On the milky white curve of Jaemin’s collarbone, he sports a dark purple bruise, surrounded by a perimeter of yellow where the skin seems to be healing. There’s no question as to where that mark came from, and it definitely wasn’t from soccer. 
“Ew, man, that looks sick!” comes from Donghyuck, along with a few comments from others, either approving or disturbed. 
“Where’d that come from?” 
Renjun slaps Mark on the chest, eyebrows furrowed at him. “Obviously, it was from Anne! Didn’t you see the way they were all over each other at last week’s game?” Jaemin grins, eyes going lovesick at the thought of his girlfriend. 
Jisung’s expression contorts into one of disgust. “That’s disgusting, man,” he comments, nose still scrunched in distaste as he leans back into his original spot on the bus seat. Another thing he’ll never understand is why people are so desperate to grow up, as if giving hickeys and sneaking vodka into their Hydro flasks makes them somehow more adult. 
He slips his earbuds into his ears, playing some light muzak to lull him to sleep with his head leaned rather uncomfortably against the cold window. 
-
Jisung doesn’t think that he’s exceptionally smart; he’s gotten passing to above average grades his entire life. He’s not musically talented, nor is he particularly a smooth talker. 
But hearing people call him gifted is a feeling he relishes every time.
With his long legs and strangely large and spacious lungs, soccer called the boy’s name from the time he could run. He dominated the peewee league, then the club teams until this point, at the ripe age of seventeen waiting to be scouted for college teams. 
He wasn’t usually one to brag but today, he had shot the winning goal. 
Everyone has their thing, the one thing that they excel at. For Picasso it was painting, for Yiruma it was piano, for Renjun it’s spending four hours every night researching alien conspiracy theories. For Jisung, it’s soccer. But he’s never been exceptionally good at speaking to people. 
“What’s your name?” He hears a voice, cheery and upbeat, behind him as he’s grabbing his bag on the side of the field. The game is over, and the crowd begins to dissipate while the team members are gathering their things to return to the bus. Turning over his shoulder he sees you, wearing a bright smile. Cautiously he responds, “Jisung Park.”
“Oh, so you’re Korean then. I’m gonna write that down, okay? How long have you been playing soccer?” You ask next, and now Jisung’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. 
“Write what down?” He asks, trying to keep his tone as polite as possible. Even so, how is he supposed to react to a random person at a game suddenly appearing to ask him questions? As he wipes his forehead with his towel he adds, “Who even are you?”
Quickly you say, “I write in the high school newspaper, and wanted to get a close-up of today’s star.” It’s then that Jisung realizes the camera slung around your neck and the notepad in your hands. 
“Why are you writing about me? I don’t even go here.”
“Because,” you say, a slight sigh creeping into your voice now. “Our team sucked today. You straight up stole the show, and no one wants to read about a team that lost. I’d rather give them a peek at the star.”
“14!” His coach yells his number once, causing Jisung to look over his shoulder to the source of the voice, where his teammates are already beginning to pile onto the bus. The boy in question slings his bag over his shoulder and tucks his soccer ball under his right arm before finally getting a good look at you. “Shouldn’t you be writing something to raise your team’s spirit or something? Giving them support, maybe?”
You shrug. “I don’t like underdogs. Don’t like writing about them. I’d rather read about the heroes. So how long have you been playing soccer again?” 
“Jisung!” Now it’s Chenle calling after him, and he really needs to go. Eyes flickering to the street where his teammates are gesturing for him to hurry, he looks back to you. Your eyebrow is raised expectantly, right hip popped out as you wait. Before he starts to run off, he manages a small, “I’ve been playing eleven years. Um… bye.”
Then he turns away and his long legs carry him to the bus a few meters away. Even so, behind him he can hear your loud, proud voice yelling after him with the name of your high school: “Check the online newspaper! You’ll see my article!”
What a weirdo, he can’t help but think as the team cheers for their star player getting on the bus back home. 
-
A week later, it’s another Saturday night following a victorious win against another team in the local area when Jisung gets a call from Chenle. “What’s up,” he asks immediately, leaning back in his desk chair to throw his soccer ball up in the air and catch it with one hand. 
“Wanna party tonight? Celebrate our win a bit?”
“Where?” asks Jisung. He’d never been big on parties. For one, his long legs that were great for running weren’t exactly skilled in dancing or anything of the like. Secondly, he’d definitely be expected to talk to girls and he’s not really in the mood to make a fool of himself. 
“Taeyong’s house. Me, Mark, Hyuck, and Jaemin are going. Renjun’s busy, and Jeno wants to spend time with his cat. What do you say? Wanna join?” 
Jisung sighs. He was honestly just exhausted. “Think I’ll pass. My sister’s been getting on me about my bio grade.”
Chenle groans on the other line. “Lame.”
“Next time, promise,” says Jisung. 
“Fine. Have fun studying, looooser!” This is the last thing Chenle says before hanging up, leaving his best friend alone to shake his head with a small laugh. Then he remembers something, some words that a stranger had yelled out to him a week before. 
Sitting up at his desk, Jisung opens his laptop and types in the name of your high school, along with your town. A few clicks around the website finds him at the online news section, plus a scroll or two past some questionable articles, there it is: a picture of him mid-kick, the winning one if he remembers well enough. His nose is scrunched in concentration and strands of dark hair cling to his forehead. 
Soccer Superstar from the opposing team steals the show and the win!
A small scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, trying to humble himself as he reads over the first few paragraphs. 
Our school’s boys soccer team faced a devastating loss on Saturday in the face of the opposing team’s ace player (pictured above). The game ended promptly when the superstar player confidently kicked in the final shot, though the result had been clear from the first half of the game. 
A short interview with the hotshot player revealed that he has been playing soccer for eleven years! A senior from Neo Culture Prep, it is clear as day that the school is very lucky to have such a prodigy on the team.
Who is this superstar player, you ask?
His name is Jisung Park. 
Geez, Jisung thinks. He knew he was good but not that good. The article did a good job of spicing him up, making him look like he was a lot better than he really was. There’s too much fluff; sure, he’s skilled and he knows it, but—he touches his cheeks. They’re warm—the article makes him sound like a soccer god, and it’s beyond embarrassing. Who even are you?
A scroll to the bottom of the page tells him all he needs to know.
Article written by: (Name) (Last Name).
-
He doesn’t return to your town for almost two months. There’s a tournament today, the hours lurching between games giving him more than enough time to psych himself out about how he’ll play. 
It’s noon, the sun shining overhead causing a sheet of sweat to amass on Jisung’s forehead. His team has just won their second match of the day, and in waiting for their next game, his eyes are scanning the bleachers set up for observers on the side of the field. It’s not hard to find you, same camera hanging around your neck. 
With his long legs, he jogs over to you towel in hand. You’re not at all focused on him, eyes pressed into the camera’s viewfinder as you attempt to capture a good shot of the current game. 
“I don’t like the stuff you said about me in your article.” 
His deep voice suddenly intrudes your thoughts, and you jump in your place. As you turn to him and drop your camera from your face, he catches sight of the way your eyes widen at his appearance. A flood of recognition replaces the shock before you tilt your head. “Why? It was all good stuff.” 
Patting at his forehead with his towel, Jisung responds, “Yeah, exactly. I’m not that good. I could’ve played better that day.” This brings a small snort from you. “Really! They were narrowing the angle on me, I should have flanked or lofted.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s—” 
You cut him off before he can explain. “You’re good. Why are you so shy to accept that?”
“Why do you keep trying to paint me as the main character of the team? Everyone works hard together.” He questions, eyebrows furrowed. 
“Because you are,” you respond matter-of-factly, focused enough to press your eye into the viewfinder again. A few seconds pass, and Jisung recognizes the click of the camera as you capture something on the field. “You’re clearly the best player on the team by a long shot. You’re the main character, the hero.”
At your response, Jisung shakes his head in disbelief and scrunches his nose. There’s really no getting through to you. “I’m more than the hero you think I am.”
You turn to him, facial features contorted into a mischievous expression. “I’m sure you are.” Jisung realizes then that you’re holding something out to him. Taking it, he observes it. A… business card? With your name and number on it. “(Name). Aspiring journalist.”
“You have a business card? Aren’t you like, seventeen?” 
You shrug, smile tugging on your lips. “Never hurts to be prepared. Call me.” It’s the last thing you say before you flitter away on quick feet, leaving to interview the team which has just won their match. He watches you leave, wondering if you know what kind of effect you have on people. 
-
“I don’t know, man. She seems kinda crazy,” says Hyuck from the seat next to him, leaning his head back. However, a sudden bump in the road causes the bus to jump, startling the boy a bit. Jisung had just shared his thoughts about asking you out with his friend, who immediately made a face and shook his head. 
“Crazy?” Sure, you’re a bit forward and maybe slightly reckless, but he doesn’t think you’re… crazy. It’s been a few weeks since he last saw you and from the conversations you’ve shared over text and phone… he thinks he likes you. Like, really likes you. It’s goddamn terrifying.
“Yeah, we all saw her article,” Chenle speaks up from the seat behind him. “She’s obsessed with you.” 
Jisung rolls her eyes. “It was one article. That doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”
“I think you should do it. It’d be funny to get on camera in case you fail,” snorts Renjun.
Jaemin pipes in from in front of them. “But if you do ask her out, she lives three hours away. That’s a lot of distance.” He’s the only one in a relationship, so maybe he has the only opinion that Jisung trusts. 
“Other people have done more distance.”
Now, it’s Jeno’s turn to pipe in. “But you’re not other people, you’re Jisung Park. You’ve never had a girlfriend.” Should he feel insulted? Chenle also adds, “Jeno’s right. You’re a senior! It’s your year, and you wanna spend it tied down to some girl who lives three hours away?” 
But you’re not just some girl. Mark’s the only one who hasn’t spoken, and most of the time, he’s the most level headed. Jisung turns to him with a sincere expression and asks, “What do you think?”
Though he had been trying to stay quiet throughout the conversation, he stretches a bit in his seat before finally saying, “I think you should go for it.”
“I think you should too!” Jaemin says. “But I think you should be prepared for what it means.”
“Whatever you decide to do, we’ll hype you up.”
“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jisung asks. “If she rejects me, at least she’s three hours away, right?” There’s murmurs of agreement around the seven of them. He tries to sound relaxed, but the thought of asking a girl out for the first time causes his heart to thump loudly in his chest. Oh god… should he do it?
“So?” asks Hyuck after a few seconds of silence, and it’s then that Jisung realizes everyone’s looking at him. “Are you gonna do it?” 
He gulps. “... No idea.”
A collective groan emerges from the group of boys. Hyuck, ever the genius, straightens his back with a glint in his eye. “How about this? If we win, you ask her out. You’ll be riding on a winning spree and it’ll give you confidence. If we lose then… there’s more girls back home.” 
That… doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But oh god, he doesn’t know which option he wants. 
-
For the first time, Jisung feels like his legs are knotting into each other, tumbling over his feet. 
Soccer had always come easily to him, like breathing. But for some unknown reason, he’s totally off his game today. He knows the play, his strengths, and even the weaknesses of his opponents, but he trips over his feet. 
No, that’s a lie. He definitely does know the source of his nervousness, and it lives in the form of a girl with a camera and a notepad sitting in the bottom corner bleacher. His breath is frantic as he zips back and forth across the field. The sounds of the game are ringing loud in his ear, and he can hardly even focus on the black and white ball being kicked around, let alone what the coach is screaming at them. They’re so close, one more goal should do it. 
He knows what’s going to happen. Jisung Park had always been known for his ending kicks.
But what if he messes it up? What if he fumbles the kick or whiffs it? 
Then again, does he even want to win? That’s a dumb quesiton—of course he does—but the question is: is he ready for what comes with the win? He really shouldn’t look, shouldn’t peek for just one look at you, but he does. You’re scribbling in your notepad, and he swears in that millisecond that you look so pretty. 
Yeah, he wants it. He really wants it. 
He’s ready, and—oh god, Sungchan is passing the ball to him. Suddenly Jisung is on high alert, winding up toward the goal. He captures Sungchan’s ball with ease, no longer tripping over himself as he makes his way to the end goal. 
One kick, just nail this one kick. 
He winds up, turning his body to the correct angle; he kicks it and…
Please go in, please go in, he’s begging. 
The ball flies in straight past the goalkeeper, who jumps toward it but there’s no use. It all happens so quickly, and suddenly his team erupts into celebration when the referee blows his whistle. Still standing there, Jisung catches his breath and stares into the goal. 
He won. 
That means… He glances at you. You’re wearing a huge smile on your face, and without noticing it himself, Jisung has his own proud smile on his. His momentary peace is interrupted by his friends running toward him, nearly knocking him over in their celebration. 
“Yeeahhh, Jisung Park, you’re the man!” 
A few minutes later, Jisung tries to calm his nerves after thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he returns to the sidelines where his stuff is, he can barely get some water down his throat before Chenle is pushing a soccer ball into his hand. “Good luck, dude,” he says, and Jisung can feel the others’ eyes on him. Oh no, it’s time. 
He steals a glance at you, and—Oh. You’re looking at him too. A bashful smile spreads over your lips and you turn away, focusing back to your conversation with your friend. His heart is beating so loud, but Jisung doesn’t think it’s because of the soccer game. Turning back to his friends, he groans, “I need a pep talk.”
“Okay, uh,” Mark attempts. “You got this, you know you’re the man. Um… if she rejects you, then it’s okay, there’s other fish in the sea!” A groan erupts through the group. “That’s not a pep talk, Mark!” 
“Listen,” says Chenle suddenly, grabbing Jisung’s shoulders to stare at him. “She’s not gonna reject you. You’re Jisung freaking Park! The star of the team and my best friend! Go get ‘em, and don’t take no for an answer!” With this, he gives Jisung a small push in the girl’s direction.
“Actually, uh—I think no means no,” pipes in Jisung but everyone cuts him off with a collective, “JUST GO!” 
Pink spreads across his cheeks as he slowly walks in your direction. At a good distance away, he places the coveted soccer ball down on the ground and winds himself up for a kick. Okay, he just shot the winning goal of the game. If he can do that, he can do this. Running forward the slightest, Jisung gives himself a silent pep talk as his foot taps the ball. It goes moving from its spot, flying through the air… and that’s when Jisung realizes his mistake. Instead of gently tapping against your ankle like he had planned, the ball flies straight in the air, knocking the side of your head rather harshly. 
“Not that hard, genius!” Chenle chastises from behind him, and Jisung has to hold back the desire to actually groan in that moment. He immediately runs toward you, hands out in surprise. “Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, reaching out for you. You’re rubbing the spot on the side of your head where the ball had hit, and he wants to disappear right there. 
He never should have done this. 
Why was he born again?
“I’m so sorry,” he says again for the nth time, feeling shame and humiliation speed up his spine at the way you wince when you touch the side of your head. “Oh my god, go get me an ice pack,” he demands over his shoulder at his friends.
“No, no I’m okay,” you reassure everyone. Now all the eyes are on the two of you. 
A few moments of silence pass as you eye the soccer ball which has rolled some distance away, crouching down to pick it up. Ball in hand, you scan the outside of it… and destroying all of Jisung’s hopes and expectations, you burst into laughter.
You laugh so hard, the boisterous sounds leaving your lips so vehemently that you have to cover your mouth with your hand. Jisung furrows his eyebrows. “I just kicked you in the head and you’re laughing?” Oh god, he must have done more damage than he thought. You don’t answer, the only sounds leaving you are giggles and guffaws. It’s only making him feel worse; geez, he wishes he wasn’t so tall so he could positively disappear right now. 
You finally look up at him and meet his gaze, your own eyes crinkled in delight. Flipping the ball over in your hands, you present to him the ball. Written on one of the large white spots reads a firm, “Go out with me?” in black marker.
“This is why you kicked me in the head?” You ask, still chuckling the slightest. Bashfully, Jisung nods. You laugh again. Every time you do that, he feels like getting smaller and smaller. “Of course I’ll go out with you.”
Wait, really?
He says these words aloud, eyes wide at your ease. He hadn’t expected you to actually say yes! “Sure,” you respond with a smile. “Though I could’ve gone without the head injury.” 
This brings a laugh from the both of you. He really had been worrying so much about nothing. His frame instantly relaxes, taking the ball back from you. “You sure you don’t need the ice pack?”
“No, I could definitely use an ice pack.” 
-
The first date happens two weeks after that game, and it’s his first real date so he has no idea how to act. Everything goes fine—he takes you to the local arcade in your town, and though he’d deny it to the ends of the earth, you beat him in foosball. 
“Ha!” You had screamed. “Superstar soccer player Jisung Park, and you can’t beat me in table soccer?” His cheeks had burned pink at the sound of your voice reverberating around the public arcade, but honestly the mirth in your eyes was worth it.
His cheeks are red but the air is cold on the walk home to your house. He had promised to have you home by nine, and it’s—he checks the time on his phone—8:45. 
A look at you, holding the giant stuffed teddy bear that you had won (he hadn’t won it for you, because lord knows he’s horrible at skee-ball), and Jisung can see the air leaving your lips. “Hey, you cold?”
“Nah,” you shake your head, though you scoot closer to him on the sidewalk. His tongue laves over his bottom lip quickly, and he almost wants to hold your hand. But that wouldn’t do much to keep you warm. 
He purses his lips, then immediately his hands are working at taking off his hoodie. That’s a cute thing, isn’t it? Boyfriends giving hoodies to their girlfriends? “Here, take this.”
When you take one look at the hoodie in his hands and roll your eyes, Jisung knows he’s in for it. “Seriously? You can’t fool me with some cheesy rom-com moves,” you laugh.
Ouch.
That hurt his pride. He was just trying to be nice, maybe a tad bit romantic, but you clearly weren’t having it. He should have known you would be so tsundere, and maybe he does.
He knows you act strong, like there is no way on the face of the earth that you would ever swoon for his lame attempts at flirting. But when you reach upward on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before you step into your house, he knows you like it just as much as he does.
-
For the longest time, it’s been just him and his sister Naeun.
His parents passed away shortly after his birth, so they stayed under the custody of their aunt. When his sister became an adult, she became his legal guardian. Since then, it’s been the two of them against the world.
Though kids had sometimes made fun of him for not having a mom or a dad, Jisung never paid those kids much attention. Sure, he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to drive or a mom to attend his parent-teacher conferences, but he had his sister and she was all he’d never need. Naeun gave up everything for him: she didn’t go to college, she traded nights out with her friends to help him with her math homework, she worked two jobs so he could play soccer. She had worked so hard, perhaps sheltered Jisung so much that he had always lived a comfortable life.
It never occurs to him just how much she had struggled until the morning she asks him to get a job. 
She sits across the dining table at breakfast, and over his cereal, Jisung notes how shaken and guilty she looks. There must be something on her mind, but that’s how his sister’s always been; she doesn’t like to worry him, and speaks up when she’s ready. When she finally tells him, he blinks, confused. 
“I can’t pay the bills alone. Not with soccer getting more expensive, and the landlord raising the rent—that bastard,” she mumbles under her breath, surprising Jisung. She hardly cursed. “It’s… It’ll just be for a short time. I promise.” She has tears in her eyes. Jisung furrows his eyebrows; she must feel guiltier about this than he thought. Immediately he nods in understanding. “It’s fine, Noona. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, go out looking this weekend.” 
He takes another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, thinking that the conversation will end there. But it doesn’t, his sister’s quiet voice reaching his ears. “Promise me you’ll go to college, Sung. Promise me you’ll make it. Make it all worth it.”
And it’s in that moment, in the way that his sister’s voice is on the edge of breaking, that it occurs to him just how much his sister has sacrificed for him. How quickly she had to grow up, having become his parent at eighteen, just a few months away from how old he was now. And he was nowhere near as responsible as her. 
He swears in that moment that he’ll uphold his promise. He’ll get a scholarship, he’ll help his sister out. He’ll pay back everything she’s given up for him.
-
Finally, today you’re in town.
It’s the first time you’ve come to visit him in his town, and he’s so excited to show you everything: his school, his favorite ice cream place on the corner of the street from his apartment building, and even the park he grew up kicking soccer balls at. Even after all these years, him and his friends still came here to practice their soccer technique.
Today, the two of you are sitting underneath a tree at said park, his head in your lap. You’re running your hands through his dark hair, and wow, he’d never admit that it feels so good. 
There’s a small laugh heard from you as you comb through his locks. “You should dye your hair.”
“Suddenly?” He asks. “I don’t even know what color I’d dye it.” 
“You should do like, a blue or something. Oh, purple! Purple would be nice!” Your excitement causes him to roll his eyes promptly, sitting up. “I’ll dye my hair purple if you dye your hair purple,” he retorts to you. 
“Maybe I will,” you say, standing onto your feet now that he’s gotten off of you. Wiping the grass from your legs briefly, you nod toward his soccer ball a few feet away. “C’mon, let’s play.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You wanna play soccer.”
“Yeah, is that so surprising?” 
“Um, yeah, a little bit considering the fact that you said it’s boring and that you complain having to get up to go to the fridge at two in the morning,” quips Jisung with a laugh. You only roll your eyes in response. “I never said soccer was boring, I just said it’s only interesting when you play. And you’re gonna teach me right now, so stand up,” you say, extending a hand to him.
He takes your hand, rising to his feet before picking up the ball. “Fine,” he relents, a smirk making its way onto his face. “Try to keep up.”
For fifteen minutes, the two of you race up and down the park’s open grass field, chasing the ball in every direction. He evades you, long legs carrying him and the ball while you chase after him. 
“Wait,” you say mid-sprint, slowing to a stop. Your chest is heaving, and slowly Jisung stops his running also. “You good?” He asks from a few feet away.
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, reaching a hand up to wipe at your forehead. “Just… gimme a sec.” A minute passes of you catching your breath, but Jisung doesn’t pay it much attention—a person who didn’t play soccer and have trained lungs like him would struggle.
“Okay, okay,” you finally say, shaking your head a bit. “Let’s go again.”
“Are you sure?” He asks, worry seeping into his tone.
“Yeah, yes! Just—just go.”
So he does, beginning to kick the ball down field as he chases after it, stopping past center field to pass the ball to you. You’re racing after him, and though the ball is coming your way, you trip over it, falling straight onto the floor.
Your head hangs low, and he immediately rushes over to you.
“Hey, hey! You okay?” He asks, kneeling down but your eyes are closed. He swipes a hand over your forehead, and it’s that moment when he realizes your eyes are closed. Did you pass out? Had he pushed you too far? “(Name)?” 
No response. Oh god, what is he supposed to do?
Is he supposed to check if you’re breathing? Where can he check for a pulse again? In his moment of inadequacy, he pulls out his phone and calls his sister.
She’ll know what to do, but it pains him that he doesn’t.
His sister arrives quickly, and immediately takes you to the hospital. According to her, you do have a pulse and you probably just had heat exhaustion. He sure hopes so… 
For a few hours he sits in the waiting room as he awaits the arrival of your parents. They rushed over from your town, four hours away, and this definitely was not the impression he wanted to have on them. Head in his hands, he can’t help but worry about you.
You do wake up, eventually but he can’t see you until your parents arrive.
They take you back home. You’re walking and talking again, but as you shoot him a weak smile from over your shoulder, walking down the hall and out of the hospital, Jisung can’t help but feel that something has gone terribly wrong. 
-
He swears he’s never been so tired. 
Working at McDonald’s isn’t horrible, per se, it’s just different. But it definitely takes more out of him than soccer ever did. The second he walks into his room Jisung drops his backpack on the bean bag next to the door and almost collapses on his bed. Throwing his work cap on the floor, he runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone.
The best thing about coming home from work, is coming home to you.
He immediately fishes for his phone from his pocket and opens it to speed dial. Pressing on your contact, Jisung presses the phone to his ear and waits for his girlfriend’s voice on the other end. The line picks up.
“Hey,” he says, a smile spreading over his lips without him even knowing. 
“Hi…” 
Something’s wrong. Your voice is missing its signature excitement, the snarkiness he had grown accustomed to. He sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything okay?” 
Yes, you’re supposed to say. Everything’s fine. Everything’s just peachy.
But you don’t. “I got a call from the hospital.”
After you had fainted the other day playing soccer with him, the hospital had run a few tests to make sure you were okay. He knew this, you both did. They were supposed to say that you had been dehydrated, that you hadn’t eaten in a few hours. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, Jisung…” 
“What, what is it?” 
There’s a momentary silence on the other side, then a shaky breath. “When I was ten… I got really sick. I was always having nosebleeds, always tired—some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed. They took me to the doctor and they told me that… I had leukemia.”
Jisung releases a heavy breath, staring into his sheets. No… don’t say it.
“I fought it for two years, and I beat it. God, it was… it was really hard, and I got through it. It’s been five years now but—but the hospital called and…” Please, no. “My cancer came back.”
Jisung’s never felt this way before; like all the air in his lungs have been pulled from his chest, lost to the universe. Not even when he sprinted across the soccer field, not even when he had gotten punched in the chest. All those times, his chest burned with fire, be it anger or passion. But now… his chest feels empty and hollow and numb. He manages to spit out a few words. 
It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re supposed to be okay, you’re supposed to go to prom together. Graduate. He’s supposed to get a soccer scholarship, you’re supposed to study journalism at the same school, and the long distance would cease to exist. You were supposed to be happy. “But it’s gonna be okay, right? You’ve fought it before, you can do it again.” Perhaps it was a bit selfish of him to ask for consolation when you were the one with the illness. But you were a journalist, never a liar. Your voice is weak, like you’ve already given up.
“I don’t know.”
-
“What’s up with you?” Chenle’s voice is almost worried, but Jisung wouldn’t be able to tell because his eyes are focused on the ground. He’s been kicking a soccer ball around with Chenle and Mark for a while now, but there’s clearly something very off about the teenager today.
“Yeah, is something wrong?” Mark asks.
Jisung blows some air into his cheeks. Should he tell them? It’s your private information but technically, you’re his girlfriend right? The news has been troubling him for a few days now, and he’s had no one to talk to. Surely, he can’t talk to his sister about it. 
He should just spit it out. “(Name) has cancer.”
It’s like the world stops, his friends taking in his words. “W-What? What did you just say?” Chenle speaks first, then Mark quickly follows. “Did you say (Name) has cancer?”
Keeping his gaze on the ground, Jisung nods and gives the ball a small kick in Mark’s direction. “Yeah. She had leukemia when she was younger, and… the other day she went to the hospital and they said that it came back. Her cancer came back.” When he looks up, both his friends are looking at him with genuine concern etched across their faces. 
“Seriously? Cancer? And you’re still dating her?” Mark asks, causing Jisung to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Did he just insinuate what he thinks he did?
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 
Chenle speaks up next, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Jisung, you guys have only been dating like, a couple months. It was just like yesterday that you kicked her in the head asking her out!” 
“And?” Jisung asks pointedly. Suddenly he’s in front of Chenle, and though he technically towers over the latter in height, Chenle’s chest is straight as he makes his point.
“Is it really worth it to stay on a sinking ship?”
Jisung’s voice reaches a new level of low, erupting from a place deep inside of him that he’s hidden away. It’s a place of rage, of anger sizzling and bubbling in his stomach. Suddenly they’re both chest to chest, unwilling to back down. “Now, I know you’re not talking about my girlfriend.” 
“Hey, hey, hey!” Mark interrupts, hands coming between them to tear the two boys apart. “Calm down. Both of you.”
“He started it,” accuses Jisung quickly, dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “My girlfriend is not a sinking ship. Neither is my relationship, and I don’t need you to comment on it.” He looks to Mark for guidance. Mark had always been the most logical one, the one he would look to for help, and though he thinks that Mark will agree with him, he almost looks guilty.
“But it’s true, Jisung. We’re worried about you. She’s just a girl. Is she really worth hurting yourself over?” He had trusted Mark to be on his side, but now Jisung just releases a scoff. He had been hoping for his friends’ support, but it seems like he’ll be going through this alone, then.
-
You’ve been avoiding him.
Of course, there’s not much that can be done to avoid him when you live hours away from each other. But you haven’t been responding to his texts, and when you do, they’re mostly short and taut. You’ve been cutting your phone calls short, often saying that you’re tired. Maybe you really are, but it hurts hearing the line cut off, not knowing how you’re really feeling.
Jisung can’t help but feel like he’s failing. He should be doing better.
It’s like your relationship is an hourglass, running out of time with every day that he spends going to school, work, or soccer practice. Like you’re getting further and further away with each short text message.
His entire life has been spent running. Speeding forward center field like a lightning bolt, long legs carrying him far ahead everyone else. But for the first time, Jisung feels like he’s falling behind.
-
It only takes a three hour bus ride (four, with the added stops) but in Jisung’s mind, it’s all worth it. It won’t be the first time he’s gone over to your house, but it is indeed the first he’s ever showed up unannounced, which is a strange appearance given that he lives three hours away. But with everything happening, he’s willing to give up the day and six hours worth of travel for you.
Sitting on the bus, he pulls out his phone. It’s early, like nine in the morning, but he knows you have a doctor’s appointment in a few hours so you’re definitely awake. He presses the facetime button, but you quickly reject his call. His eyebrows furrow, but lighten with an incoming text from you.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : jisung, i’m using the bathroom rn. call you back in a bit.
He nearly rolls his eyes, but it’s a sweet one. You’re always so candid.
[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : you act like you’ve never facetimed me on the toilet before.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : wow, call me out more why don’t you
[ message to : (Name) ♡ ] : pick up my call, brat ♡
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : no, You pick up My call :p
Seconds later, his phone is lit up with an incoming facetime screen. A laugh almost leaves him at your tenacity before accepting the call.
The call opens up to the visual of his girlfriend, you in your PJs fixing the phone up against the mirror in the bathroom. He sees himself reflected in the mini screen, hoodie on and earbuds in wearing a boyish grin. “Hey pretty girl. Make sure you wash your hands.”
You roll your eyes at his remarks. “Hey ugly boy. I’m already doing that. What are you doing?”
“Just making sure, because I don’t think you brushed your teeth after you fell asleep on call the other night,” he teases, clicking his tongue as you’re the only person he can tease so easily. “I’m on the bus to practice.” A lie, but a white one at that. “What are you up to?”
You wack your still dry toothbrush in front of the camera, nose scrunching up in the slightest. It’s a habit of his that you’ve picked up. “I’m also doing that right now.” You wet the brush, putting some toothpaste on it. “I thought you didn’t have practice this Friday? Or was that next Friday?”
Your actions bring a low laugh to his lips, and his eyes momentarily focus on the passing landscape outside the bus window as he’s now three hours out of his normal perimeter. “Uh, Coach wanted to add in a practice today. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment today?”
You nod at his answer, toothbrush in mouth. “I do, I think it’s like, in a hour or something.”
“Oh, okay,” he replies simply as the bus comes to a stop, your house only a short walk away. He stands, gathering his bag. “Gotta go, but I’ll talk to you in a bit, pumpkin honeysuckle,” he snorts, making his way to the front of the bus. 
Your brows furrow as you give him a disapproving look through the screen, shaking your head slightly before moving to rinse your mouth. “Talk to you soon, don’t get hurt at practice or I’ll fight you.”
He scoffs as he steps out of the bus, into your neighborhood. “Like you could take me. Later.” You probably could, given your determination, but he gives you a nose scrunch before ending the call. He’s only taken a few steps when his phone rings with a text message.
[ message from : (Name) ♡ ] : you and i both know i could take you :)
A snort leaves him. Classic (Name).
When he arrives a few minutes later, he hesitates at the door, only praying that the person who opens up is you, not your parents or god forbid, your brother. It only takes a few hard knocks before he hears your voice on the other side, determined to see just who the hell had the nerve to interrupt your laziness this early in the morning. “Who the fu—”
He tsk’s in distaste. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the first words to leave his girlfriend’s mouth are cuss words. “You potty mouth. I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, opening his arms.
Jisung’s not quite sure what he expected. For you to jump in his arms? What a delusional boy. You blink for a few seconds, then suddenly you’re throwing yourself at him, fist first to land a deserved punch to his arm. “I thought you had practice? What are you doing here and why do you look so much cuter than when I last saw you?” 
“Well, I lied,” he snickers, patting your head. “I’m here to annoy you, obviously. But you look too. For a—” A person dying of cancer, but he can’t say it. He won’t. “—person who barely got up twenty minutes ago.”
Your hand immediately begins rubbing the spot that your fist landed, worried that it might actually bruise in a bit. Jisung asks, “So are you gonna invite me in, or?”
“What are you, a vampire or something? I’m pretty sure you weren’t given permission when you entered my heart so just come in and cuddle me before my appointment.” 
Your response catches him off guard so he blinks before entering in silently, sticking his hands back into the loose fitting pocket of his hoodie. Even after six months, he’s still not used to you saying those kinds of things. Hell, he still gets sweaty holding your hand.
“Hey Mom! Dad!” You’re grabbing onto his arm, tugging him into the kitchen. “Jisung’s here!”
-
After a small breakfast and conversation with your parents, he’s given the permission to go with you to your doctor’s appointment. The two of you take the bus, hands interlaced as you sit, and Jisung smiles awkwardly when an elderly woman compliments the two of you, calling you a cute couple. 
He’s never really been in a hospital before. 
For an arduous soccer player, he’s lucky enough to never have suffered a pain great enough to warrant a visit to the hospital, nor had he ever been sickly enough to send him there. It’s for that reason that he feels slightly out of place, tucked in his hoodie whilst trying his best not to gaze at the others in the waiting room. Instead, he tries to keep his gaze focused upon his girlfriend as you remain bright despite their surroundings. Your hands intertwined, he feels a comfortable warmth seeping into his veins, gold in color and feeling. Gold like the ring on your finger, and like your heart. 
He’s so lucky to have you.
“I don’t really have anything planned,” he says softly, giving your hand a slight squeeze. It’s true that your itinerary is next to nonexistent for this impromptu date, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. If anything, a hospital is a strange starting destination for a date but your relationship is a bit strange. Quietly, he says to you, voice low in the hopes that no one overhears, “Don’t hospitals scare you?”
He knows that you spent a good portion of your time here; surely you must have grown accustomed to it, but Jisung was not. Hospitals were cold… white and bleak and much too quiet.
“Nah, not really,” you answer with a shake of your head. “Except for all the souls wandering around.”
Jisung blinks. “Souls?” He gulps.
“Yup. The souls of the passing.” You click your tongue, along with a wink in his direction now that you’ve successfully managed to creep him out. Do you ever stop making jokes?
The door to the waiting room opens and a medical assistant calls your name. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you tell him, standing and releasing his arm. He gives a hesitant nod, watching as you leave through the door and disappear down the hall. 
When you emerge, some forty-five minutes later, the mirth is gone from your eyes.
He knows right away: you didn’t get good news. His heart is pumping in his chest, like he’s waiting for you to collapse right there. Years could pass, and Jisung swears he’d never be able to erase that memory of you. “Are you—” Okay, he wants to ask. But you just give him a small smile and shake your head. It’s not the time. He cuts himself short, reaching a hand out to you with a small, albeit forced, smile. “Let’s go on our date.”
-
It’s a long afternoon, spent in the arcade where you had had your first date—this time, for memory’s sake, he gets another ring from the claw machine—then McDonald’s and ice cream. He treats you to lunch, courtesy of his employee discount, and the entire day is filled with laughter and mutual teasing. Everything feels like it’s okay again. 
Jisung enjoys these moments the most.
The moments where he doesn’t feel like he has to be anybody: not the star soccer player, not the kind understanding younger brother, or a kid trying to look grown up at an adult party. With him he’s just you, awkwardness and quirks altogether. You’ve never hid yourself from him, and now he doesn’t have to hide himself either.
Now that the day is touching evening, the two of you sit at a park, relaxing mindlessly on the swings next to each other. Now that the romantic buzz is gone, the two of you have fallen into a comfortable silence.
“Thanks for coming this far, Ji. This was… nice.”
A small smile spreads over his lips. “It was nothing. I wanted to do it for a long time.”
“No, really,” you say, turning to him with a thankful smile. Your eyes are serious now, and Jisung feels the sunlight seep into his skin. “I really missed you.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. This moment feels heavy, like he’ll remember it for years to come. “... I missed you too. A lot.” You both turn back to face the sunset, watching the sun fade behind a hill. It’s setting, streaks of gentle reds and soft-spoken oranges staining the empyrean firmament. It’s then that Jisung feels his heart begin to sink, like the sun, into the pit of his stomach.
“Are you scared?”
A moment passes without you saying anything, then you speak up beside him. “Not really. I mean, it’s just the hospital. The only thing that’ll suck is not being able to leave. I never thought I’d say it but, I’m really gonna miss going to school.”
Did you think you were never going to return? “Are your chances good?”
The implications from earlier at the hospital return. What are the chances that things aren’t looking up? “They say so,” you breath out.
That’s not good enough. Anything could happen. Jisung needs clarification, confirmation. He doesn’t want to lose you. “What if you—”
“I might.”
A beat of silence.
Jisung feels like crying. It gathers in the back of his throat. “What would I do without you?”
There it is: the implication that you’ll be gone. That one day, Jisung will have to wake up and face a world without you in it, a world with less happiness and less passion. A world where there isn’t someone who will call him ugly when really they think he’s the cutest to walk to the earth, or where there isn’t someone to make fun of him the way you do. A world with less love. 
Your voice is dry as you speak. 
“You’d move on.”
“I don’t know if I’d ever love anyone like you,” he finds himself saying. 
“L-Love?” You suddenly say, voice the smallest he’s ever heard. You’ve always had the loudest voice, most prominent in his brain, but his words seem to have caught you off guard. “Do you? Love me?” 
He doesn’t know what love feels like. He’s just a teenager, what is he supposed to know about love? About loss? Is it all-consuming, like in the movies? Is it meant to hurt? “... I think I do. I think I love you.”
There’s a sniffle next to him, and he turns immediately, alarmed that he may have made you cry. There are tears in your eyes, but they don’t fall. Being a writer, you talk too much. Your words are eloquent and true, though sometimes Jisung has a hard time getting you to stop talking. But this time, you choose to abandon words altogether, instead leaving your swing to stand in front of him. Compelled by nature, he stands too. Instead of speaking, you reach upward on your tiptoes once more. Except this time, you kiss him. 
Your lips meet, and everything is golden.
And against the backdrop of the setting sun, it feels like the closing scene of Jisung’s very own romance movie. But this isn’t the end, he knows.
-
When he walks you home, he offers his sweater again. 
This time not out of obligation or the desire to appear more romantic than he is, but because you’re cold. Really cold. You’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself not giving enough warmth.
“Here,” Jisung says, already beginning to take off his hoodie, but you stop him with a hand and a pointed look, though your chattering teeth cause you to stutter. “S-Still trying to woo me with cheap rom-com tricks?”
You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn and he hates it.
“Just take it,” he says, pushing it into your arms. 
“No,” you argue. “You have a three hour ride home, it’s late and you’ll be cold.”
It’s obvious your illness has made you even more sensitive to the cold, and for that reason, Jisung’s fine facing the biting cold as long as you’re okay. “You’re freezing, please just take it.”
“Jisung, I said no.” Your voice is stern now, and he gets the feeling that he’s upset you. He gives up, gnawing on his bottom lip in deep thought. He just wants to make you feel better, doing what he thinks will help but with you, it never does. You’re so independent, too much so and much too stubborn to admit you need his help… “Fine,” he says before putting his hoodie back on. If you won’t take his warmth, then he’ll give it to you. 
He lifts his arm, placing it fully around your shoulders and pulling you to him so your bodies meet. “At least let me hold you,” he mumbles. Your frame freezes in his for a moment, until you wrap your arms around the circumference of his chest. 
Burying your face into his side, you relent into him. “Okay, fine.”
And later, he finds that you’re right. When he sits alone on the dimly lit train, he realizes that the warmth he had been feeling earlier, bathing in the sun’s rays with your lips, is long gone. All he feels now, is cold.
-
“You skipped practice the other day.” Jisung looks up from where he had been sitting on the bleachers, tying his shoes after practice. It had been a tough practice; he had missed quite a few passes and whiffed more than just a couple shots. He can only blame himself. He’s been distracted; alongside his worries about you, he also has a job to attend to and even more, the results for his dream school’s soccer scholarship is supposed to come out soon. His gaze falls on all six of his closest friends, looking down at him. 
“Yeah, something came up,” he says easily.
“More like, someone,” retorts Donghyuck easily. “We know you ditched to go see your girlfriend.”
“And what about it?”
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, man. You never want to play ball with us anymore, you don’t want to hang out with us. Whenever you invite you to a party, you raincheck. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Chenle spits out, arms crossed over his chest.
“Chenle,” says Renjun carefully.
“No,” interrupts the boy in question. Chenle looks straight at Jisung, who stands now to meet the others’ heights. “He needs to hear this. Ever since that girl came around, it’s like you’ve lost your way. You used to be all about soccer and friendship. Now you always have her on your mind, and—did you see the way you played earlier?—she’s messing you up. Your head’s not on straight.”
“Chenle, stop.” Donghyuck speaks up now, voice low as he tries to stop the younger from going off. “You’re not the same Jisung I met in peewee camp, and I don’t know if I like who I’m seeing,” Chenle finishes. 
That’s enough for him. His voice comes out before he can stop it.
“You know why I never party with you anymore?” Jisung suddenly says, voice booming and clearly at his limit. “Because I’ve always hated partying. Because I have a job now, and because I don’t want my sister to stay up worrying about me while I’m getting piss drunk. I hate drinking, I hate trying to look cool while actually looking fucking stupid, because I don’t know how I can even think about partying when my girlfriend is fucking dying.” 
A hearty scoff leaves his lips, as though he can’t even fathom the words he’s faced today. “You don’t even know me anymore? That’s where you’re wrong, because you never knew me. Not all of me. You only see me as the star player who’s gonna get you your win. She knows me, she knows all of me, and she doesn’t try to change me. Well, sorry that I’m not the same kid you met years ago who let everyone walk all over him. I thought you guys were my friends, but clearly you only want me around for as long as I can play.”
Those are the last fiery words to leave Jisung’s mouth before he turns on his heels, storming off the field and away from everyone else. He just needs to get out of here, away from everything before he ruins it. Mark and Hyuck follow after him, while Jeno and the rest hold Chenle back. 
“Don’t listen to him,” Mark says, ever level headed. “We know what you’re going through.”
Though he appreciates their concern, Jisung spits, “No, you don’t.”
Both of them stop walking, no longer chasing after him as Jisung pulls out his phone. 
A new email.
He immediately opens it, eyes glazing over the text.
Dear Jisung Park,
Thank you for applying to our university’s soccer scholarship. We reviewed every application with our utmost dedication and attention. Unfortunately, we regret to inform you that we cannot accept your application at this time. Our soccer program is one of the most competitive at this school, however we encourage you to reapp… 
What a load of shit. 
-
The past few weeks have been horrid. 
Soccer is as tense as ever, though Jisung would be lying if he said that his fight with Chenle didn’t fuel him to work even harder during practice. His job sucks, especially after someone spilled a bucket of old oil on him (it was cold, thank goodness but still gross nonetheless). So far he’s gotten another rejection. Who knew that getting into college would be this hard?
He wishes that he could say his relationship with you is the saving grace, but it’s really not. You’re in the hospital now, and the two of you have been talking less and less. Even now with his feud between his friends, he feels even more alone. Today when he calls, you sound even more tired than usual. 
“Hey, chocolate honeycomb bunny,” Jisung says, giving his absolute worst at giving a cringe-worthy nickname. It seems you’re too tired to even give a repulsed response. 
“Hey.” You’re quiet for a moment, only your breathing heard across the line. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” sighs Jisung, running a hand through his dark locks. “Just exhausted. My coworker is getting on my last nerve.”
“The same one you talked about last week?”
“Who spilled the dirty oil on me? Yeah,” he responds with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve both been working the same amount of time, I just want to know why he’s so slow to pick it up.”
It’s characteristic of you to agree, seeing as complaining is one of your favorite past times. But you don’t, voice only coming out softly across the call, “Maybe just give him some time.” 
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he sighs. “How about you? Are you feeling better?”
“About the same,” you respond truthfully. God, you sound so tired. He almost feels bad for making you talk to him when you clearly sound exhausted. “Any more results?” You ask, regarding his college acceptances.
“No,” he shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. He’s a good student, he’s done community service. Just what more do they want from him? “You said I was special, but I don’t think the colleges see that.” 
He can almost see your small smile in his mind. “You are special. Just ‘cause they don’t see it doesn’t you aren’t.”
“Eh, I don’t know,” Jisung says, playing with a loose thread on his bedsheet. 
What you say next catches him off guard. “Maybe we can both be college-less, together.”
“What?” He asks, brows tightening in confusion. “Didn’t you get into the journalism program at that one university?” He’s caught you. You’re silent on the line for a few long seconds, but the quiet is deafening for him.
“I did, but Jisung, I…” You hesitate. “I’m not going.”
“What do you mean you’re not going?” He asks.
“I… I don’t know if I want to.” In a small voice, you continue, “I don’t know that I’ll make it that long.” What are you saying? What are you implying? Heart racing, Jisung tries to decipher these words in his mind. To him, it just sounds like the end.
“You’re giving up already, I hear it in your voice.”
“I’m not,” you say, a broken promise. “I just… want to be prepared for the worst.”
“The worst isn’t coming. You’re going to get through this. You’re going to beat it. I know you are.” It becomes blatantly clear in this moment that the person Jisung is trying to convince, is himself. 
His pleas fall upon deaf ears, because you argue back in what seems like the strongest voice you’ve made in months. As though you’ve amassed all your remaining energy for this conversation. “I’m not a hero, Jisung. I’m not cut out for this. The doctors said it’s not looking good.” 
“Then prove them wrong. You’re gonna beat it.” 
“I don’t want to be the underdog either, Ji. You know I hate them.” What you say next has his blood boiling. “I don’t deserve it anyways, no one would want me to come back.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung raises his voice now, volume growing with each word.
“No one likes me,” you spit out across the line, and he doesn’t need to see you to imagine how incensed you are at the moment. “I’m rude, I’m loud, I cross boundaries and I say things that hurt without caring about who it touches. And before you yell at me that no one thinks of me like that, these are things I’ve heard from other people.” Your voice breaks, as does Jisung’s heart. “If this were a movie, no one would root for me to survive.” 
“I do,” Jisung says, voice strong. “I’m rooting for you. Every. Single. Day. And who cares about how other people see you? You’re rude? You’re crass? I like you because of those things, because you’re different from me. Am I not enough?”
“You’re different,” you relent, voice tired. “You’re the only one who matters. But I—“ You choke up. “I’m just tired of fighting. I don’t want to go to sleep every night not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning. I want to be strong, and I want to face every day knowing that it could be my last… I don’t want to leave anything behind—”
“You’re not leaving,” he cuts in.
“—and I can’t go through every day letting you think that everything is okay, because they’re not. But I’m ready to let go, Ji. Because I’m happy with what I had, with what we had, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
Tears are falling down his cheeks now, suiciding off the surface of his face and staining his bed sheets. He doesn’t know if the tears are the result of sadness, anger, or the pain of loving someone the universe would never let him have, yet it hurts all the same. “But I love you! I told you that I loved you.”
“I love you too,” you cry, and the sound is heartbreaking. “But I just wish that were enough.”
A pregnant silence consumes both of you. All that can be heard is the sound of your mutual crying, along with your breathing that Jisung had learned to fall asleep to. When you speak again, your voice is steady. You had always been the stronger one. “I don’t think you should call anymore.” A few sniffles. He can’t even speak. “Goodbye, Jisung.”
Then the line dies.
-
It’s Christmastime. He knows it’s cold, probably even colder in the hospital where you are.
Now, Jisung knows you don’t want anything from him. You don’t want him around. In the past weeks he must have become someone even he wouldn’t want around. And though he gets the feeling that you’ll never need him again, he figures you could use a sweater. It’s nothing much, and really he thinks it could be better. 
A hoodie, not fit to your size but slightly larger because he knew you well enough to know you’d like it like that. On one sleeve, near the wrist, a patch of a soccer ball. He had learned how to sew it on himself. On the other, his initials. JS.
He sends it in the mail, in a box to the hospital with your name and room number on it. There’s no letter, nothing. Just his bare soul in the form of an oversized cotton hoodie. He’d send it himself, appearing at the door to your hospital bed, but something tells him he’s run out of things to say.
-
His phone rings at three in the morning. 
He knows what it means.
February 2nd, at 2:39AM. The world lost you. 
It would never be the same again, and neither would he.
-
Grief is an interesting thing, someone once told him. 
He doesn’t quite remember who it was, whether it was his sister comforting him after the death of their goldfish, the guidance counselor at his school giving him a required appointment after the passing of a student, or yourself. But as the hours go by, it feels more and more like a weight in his chest that has been sitting on a hollowed place in his heart. 
Grief is indescribable, and Jisung doesn’t know if this is because his limited seventeen year old vocabulary hasn’t collected enough fitting words to even begin to verbalize his emotions, or if because it really is indescribable. 
The first few days had been hell. 
He had almost become someone that he didn’t know, barely stepping out of bed and perhaps worrying his sister out of her mind. It was his way of ignoring the world, dissociating himself from the irrefutable truth that you weren’t really gone. You were still laying in bed, three hours away as usual, struggling but still fighting. If he could lay in bed, sleeping the days away and ignoring his text message condolences from his friends, he could pretend for some time that things were the way they were, eight months ago. 
Eight months before it.
Eight months before he lost you. Before your relationship, a burgeoning dandelion in the nook of spring. But dandelions represent rebirth, the reappearance of hope like a beacon after an arduous winter, and you would never have another spring. 
He could not pretend, because every morning the sun rose again, and he would have to reach his head out from the burrow of blankets he had buried himself in. He would need to face it for himself that he woke up, and you didn’t. His friends texted. His sister knocked on his door and begged him to eat, even going as far as to cook his favorite foods as a means to lure him from the darkness of his corner. He ate. But it was never the same. 
Messy bedheads, earbuds tucked in with muzak playing gently like the thrum of his heart which beat enough for the both of you, tear-stained pillow cases, knees to the chest, light failing to shine in through the blinds which remained closed, counting the seconds between each breath, dreaming insubordinate dreams. 
The first few days went like that. Empty.
Then he was angry.
Angry because the world had given him a love worth changing for, then ripped it from his inexperienced hands. He had never had anything in his life! Not a mother, not a father. Could he not have this one lily, this flower which sought to remind him of the fragility of life? And even more so, he was angry for you. You were a fire—you were a bottle of passion bursting at the seams, a well of untapped potential, a boldness which no one else could emulate—and the universe crushed you beneath its foot. 
And suddenly, the emptiness of your hollow space reflected upon him.
He should have been better, should have done more. A soccer ball proposition? A sweater? It was laughable; that was the least he could give? If only he had called, if only he hadn’t listened to you like the meek child he was, things could be better. 
And above all, he was sad. 
What would he do without you?
Moving on seemed useless. A light at the end of a dark tunnel which stretched for ages. An epiphany that you would never reach. 
He just hoped that it was not cold. That you left the world in a ball of light, surrounded in the warmth of family and love, not the rigidness of the unforgiving world. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he hoped that the soccer ball sleeve had been clutched to your chest, and that his hoodie could have provided just a little bit of that warmth. 
-
The walking pattern outside his bedroom door is different from his sister’s. So is the knock on the door; his older sister’s is much more quiet, reserved, as though she was afraid to wake him. This one is harsh, and it reverberates through the room before the door opens.
The air in the room is still for a moment.
“Jisung.” 
It’s Chenle. And Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, as well as Jaemin. They all take their seats either on the end of his bed, the floor, or his beanbag, but Jisung doesn’t move from his place underneath the blankets. 
“What do you want?” He manages to groan out in a small voice.
Someone places a hand on his leg, a comforting gesture. He thinks it’s Jaemin from the gentle touch. “We’re here for you.”
Donghyuck comments, “You haven’t been to practice this week.” Of course that would be what they would mention first. Jisung scoffs. “I’m kind of going through something.”
“And we’re here.” Mark’s voice.
“We wanted to apologize.” Chenle speaks now, and despite being best friends since they were five, he’s the last person Jisung expected to say sorry. In their decade-long friendship, Chenle was the confident one, the one who charged forward without consequence while Jisung trailed behind, cleaning up his mess. “We’ve been… assholes, simply put.” Had he been in higher spirits, Jisung would have snorted. “We thought we understood what you were going through, and we thought it was dumb. To let yourself get hurt over some random girl… but we were wrong. We didn’t understand your point of view.”
“Not even a little bit,” says Donghyuck, head hanging low. 
“Yeah, we’re supposed to be your friends. Your team! We’re supposed to lift you up when you’re down and… well, we haven’t been doing that. And we’re sorry. I’m sorry.” Chenle says. Slowly, Jisung lifts his head from below the blanket to face his friends. They all wear a variety of expressions, all somber. “And we know now… she’s not just some random girl.”
Yeah, they’ve all been assholes, some more than others, and Jisung can’t exactly say that they were any help in his struggle. But perhaps this was something he needed to go through alone. At the time, he needed you. But now… he just really needs his best friends. 
Tears sting at his eyes for the nth time. 
“Come here, you crybaby,” says Jaemin, opening his arms.
-
It’s Monday, meaning he has to go back to school today. He’s not ready, how could he be? It hasn’t even been a week since you… left, but he knows he has to go back. His sister, God bless her, had let him take the first few days off but now that the weekend has ended and school has rolled back around, he has no choice.
“You look like shit.”
Donghyuck has always lacked a filter. It would hurt if Jisung didn’t know that Donghyuck meant that in the best way possible. You look like shit, he says. So I’m glad you found it in you to come to school, is what he doesn’t say. 
Jisung closes his locker with a sigh. “Thanks.” 
“No problem,” snickers his friend, and Jisung turns his head to find Mark and Jaemin approaching. “Morning,” greets Jaemin as he taps the top of Jisung’s head, despite being shorter.
“Hi,” responds Jisung quietly, clutching his chemistry textbook to his chest. The three of them look at him with quiet and somber eyes, but don’t say anything. Mark places a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a small rub.
“You got this.” 
The truth is, he can’t do this. The world feels quiet and empty, lacking a particular passion that you used to always embody. It could be worse. Thank goodness your relationship was rather private; he doesn’t know how he’d be able to function at school had there been curious eyes on him, if you had gone to the same school as him. 
The day goes rather slowly, and Jisung busies himself with catching up on his work that he had missed. He could almost pretend like things are normal. It’s not until fifth period calculus that something strange happens. 
An office TA pokes her head in and scrambles over to the teacher, who was in the midst of a very enthralling lecture on integrals that Jisung was definitely not paying great attention to. The TA whispers something into the teacher’s ear, then hands her a piece of paper. Mrs. Huang nods, then suddenly Jisung finds her eyes on him. “Jisung, Mr. Moon wants you in his office.” 
Him? Why him of all people?
Mr. Moon is the guidance counselor at their school, and Jisung has a moment of internal panic—had he somehow found out about you? Should he prepare himself for a lecture about grief and moving on? 
With a gulp, he nods. 
Mr. Moon is a fairly nice man, with a friendly smile and a reputation for being a pushover teacher. Jisung had met with him a few months ago to discuss his desire to pursue a soccer scholarship but he highly doubts that’s the case now.
When Jisung enters Mr. Moon’s office, the first thing he sees isn’t Mr. Moon but a tall man with a stoic expression standing behind his desk. In contrast to the stranger, Mr. Moon wears his trademark smile. “Jisung, good to see you. Still getting a kick out of that old ball?” 
Of course, Mr. Moon doesn’t know that Jisung skipped practice all last week to mope in his bed, but Jisung nods politely. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” responds the teacher with a smile. “Take a seat.”
He gestures to the chair in front of his desk, and cautiously does Jisung take a seat. The tall, bruff man is still standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, having not yet said a single word. Somehow the atmosphere is tense, and Jisung’s quite sure he knows what this is about. 
“Now, Jisung, I’ve called you in today because—”
“Is this about (Name)?” Perhaps it’s a bit rude of him, but Jisung doesn’t want to be prodded at, at least not by people who think they know him. The last thing he wants is pity. 
Mr. Moon’s eyebrow raises just the slightest, and he leans forward on his desk. “Why, yes, it is. How did you know?”
A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips, but it’s much weaker than he would like. “My question is, how did you know? Who told you?” Who was it that shared information on his personal life? Was it his sister? His friends? 
“Nobody had to tell me, Jisung. (Name) sent the letter to me herself.”
Wait… what? 
Jisung blinks, hands falling slack on his lap. “W-What? What letter?”
Perhaps his staring is a bit too obvious, for Mr. Moon gestures to the stranger in question with a hand. “Jisung, this is Johnny Seo.” Finally, the intimidating stranger has a name. “Johnny is the head coach of the soccer team at Greenwood University—” Wait, Greenwood University? That’s Jisung’s dream school—well, it was his dream school, until they rejected his application for a soccer scholarship. What would they want to do with him? “—and he wants to offer you a full-ride scholarship.”
What? 
Jisung’s mouth falls open. What? What the hell? Hadn’t they just rejected him three months ago? His eyes must be bugging out of his face, so he blinks repeatedly, trying to find the words to say. 
“W-Wait, what? A… A full ride?” He stammers, unable to find his tongue.
The man named Johnny only nods. “Full ride. Covered tuition, dorming, and soccer costs. All you have to do is keep your grades up and keep scoring those fancy goals of yours I’ve heard about.”
“But—But, you rejected me… why now?” 
For the first time, Johnny gives a small smile. “Because of the letter.” There it is, that letter again that Jisung has no idea about. He looks to Mr. Moon for guidance. All the counselor does is open his desk drawer and pull out an envelope, which he slides across his desk. “(Name) (Last Name) wrote a recommendation letter to the university, and honestly, it was stunning. It was enough to make the admissions board… bend a little, to say the least.” 
Reaching forward, Jisung grabs the envelope and examines it in his hands. It’s opened, but yes, on the front is your handwriting. He’s cried so much this past week that he doesn’t know how many times tears have touched his eyes, but they sting once more. This time, he doesn’t let them fall. 
“She… wrote a letter. For me?” 
“That she did,” responds Mr. Moon. 
“She’s right,” says Johnny suddenly. “In our work at the university, we’re always looking for the best of the best. We should look deeper, sometimes.” The words sink in the room, and Jisung finds himself staring down at the envelope in his hands. What things had you had to say about him?
Honestly, all he can think about is his failure. How he failed to be there for you, how he cowarded in your presence when you told him to leave you alone. He bites down on his lip. 
“So? Will you accept our offer?” 
Jisung looks up again, meeting Johnny’s expectant eyes. “I…” His mouth suddenly runs dry. “I don’t know, I… I need to think about it.”
“You’re not graduating for another four months. Take your time.” Slowly, still in glassy-eyed disbelief, Jisung nods. His fingers find the edge of the envelope, tracing its pointed edge. You wrote that for him. From across the desk, Mr. Moon speaks up. “You should read that letter, Jisung, and realize what’s coming for you: good things.” 
-
To Whom It May Concern,
Hello. My name is (Name) (Last Name), and I am a high school student writing this letter to appeal a rejection by your university. Not of my own application, but of an extraordinary person with the name Jisung Park. In my humble opinion, I believe that your institution has made a grave mistake in not offering a scholarship to Jisung. So, I write this letter to appeal such a rejection, and to do something that he hated, though it was what I always did best: write about Jisung. 
Now, Jisung is a humble person who never speaks up about his struggles, but the truth is that of all students, I believe he is the most in need of this scholarship. His parents passed when he was young, and he grew up in the care of his older sister who raised him. Their small but strong family made sacrifices, gave up luxuries, and endeavored to survive. 
In the midst of this crisis, Jisung found his one savior: soccer. 
He is, without a doubt, the best soccer player I have ever seen in my entire life. He can sprint across the field in half a normal player’s time, and I’ve never seen him miss a goal or a pass. But his soccer prowess isn’t what makes him great. Moreover, Jisung is the person you want on a team. He believes in teamwork, but is always striving to be better. He doesn’t want to stand out, but does so anyways. He is never arrogant, nor boastful. If there is one person who deserves this, it’s him.
But, I am sure that you are thinking: why should this letter mean anything to you? I’m not a highly valued individual in the community, nor have I done anything significant for my name to mean anything. I’m only a seventeen year old student, a struggling journalist. 
The answer to that question is, I know Jisung Park. You only see his grades, the shallow things on his application. You will never get to see the Jisung Park that I knew and loved. 
In my time alive, Jisung Park made an impact on my life that will never be forgotten. Even when life seemed the darkest, not a beam of light in the field's view, Jisung picked me up and made me see the sunset. I know now, the sunset is beautiful, warm, and comforting—everything that Jisung is. He never left my side, and never for a single moment did I ever feel alone in his presence. The world often overplays the saying “a heart of gold,” but the truth is that Jisung has one.
I used to think that love would be red, like the burning of one’s lungs racing down a soccer field, or black and white, made to be simple. But the truth is, love is golden. Golden like the sunset painting streaks against the floor, golden like Jisung. It’s a warmth that covers you from head to toe, relenting into a future that you don’t know. 
He is my golden boy, and he can be yours too. 
I may not have a future, but if there’s one thing that I know, it’s that Jisung deserves one. 
I’m a journalist. I don’t write love letters, but perhaps this is the closest I can ever get. And should Jisung ever read this letter, I hope he knows that with this, I dedicated my last spark of sunlight to him. 
Sincerely,
(Name) (Last Name)
-
Your funeral occurs on February 13th, a week and four days after your passing. 
Jisung stands in front of the bathroom mirror, nose scrunched in concentration as he makes a feeble attempt on his necktie. This is surely not as easy as throwing on a soccer jersey. “Ugh,” he groans, fingers getting confused again.
“Need help?”
His sister’s dainty voice calls him from the bathroom door. Dressed in all black, she’s ready too. Turning his head, Jisung sighs. “Please.” She makes his way toward him, fingers coming to work on his tie already with steady hands. 
“You’re too tall now,” she says softly, with a chuckle. It’s true; he used to look up to her, physically and figuratively, but now he’s an entire head above her. “You’ve grown up a lot.” 
It was his eighteenth birthday just a few days ago but to be quite honest, he hadn’t had the heart to celebrate it. If anything, he had always thought that his eighteenth birthday would be like an epiphany for him. As though he would wake up the morning of, feeling like an adult with all the answers to the world.
The truth is, he’s eighteen now and he still feels like he has no idea what he’s doing. 
“I don’t feel any different,” he admits. “I thought eighteen would mean something.”
“You’ll get there, trust me. And anyways, I always told you not to grow up too fast.”
For a moment there’s a silence as his sister swoops the tie in and out, weaving it to form the perfect knot. Feeling something scratch at the back of his throat, Jisung speaks. “... I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, silly? I was the one who never taught you how to knot a necktie,” she chuckles. 
“Not for that,” he says. “For last week. I… probably scared you.”
Suddenly, his sister is wearing that demure smile of hers again. The one that is small and polite, but always seems to carry more weight in it than he can see. “No. It’s okay, I knew you’d be better.” 
Naeun finally finishes the knot, tightening it the slightest around Jisung’s neck. “There you go.” He offers her a small thanks as he turns to look in the mirror, and she begins to leave. A sigh leaves him; there’s no avoiding it now, he’s ready to go.
“You know, Jisung,” she suddenly speaks up from the doorway. “I’m glad that you met her. Even if it ended up like this… you’re different. In a good way, and I think she had a lot to do with it. Even if you don’t feel different… you are.”
-
In the months of your relationship, Jisung had come to learn your insecurities. You were loud and proud, but with that confidence came an unwavering insecurity that you were unliked by those you spilled your tongue to. At the funeral, Jisung sees that that’s not at all true.
People give speeches for you, place flowers on your grave. The school newspaper had even written an article to commemorate your presence on their team, and the president of the club reads it aloud. A number of hospital staff make their appearance.
Even Jisung’s friends show up, despite the clear memory of them calling you crazy early on. Maybe they were right, maybe you were crazy. But he probably was too.
It doesn’t rain a single drop, though it had been pouring for three days before. Instead, the sun peeks through the overcast clouds, gifting sunshine. 
Jisung smiles. 
He probably looks like an idiot, carrying the soccer ball around the entire funeral but he knows what it means to him, and what it means to you. When he places it on your grave, the grass still fresh, his eyes catch the carefully written words on a singular white spot.
I love you. 
He knows that he means it. 
At eighteen, there a lot of things that Jisung still doesn’t know. But even so, there are a handful of truths that he can hold onto forever. One, he’s still an incredible soccer player and girls are still very scary. But like soccer, maybe that just takes time and practice. 
Two, growing up isn’t about a number. It’s not about partying or drinking, nor is it about rushing into relationships that have little meaning. For years Jisung had wanted to grow up, to face the world with no fears and be able to cruise through. But he knows now that growing up is about being strong in the face of sadness, pain, grief. About waking up every morning even if you feel like you have no reason to. 
Love is the same.
Love isn’t about making out on the bleachers after practice or trying to copy the coy clichés seen in romance movies. It’s about the sacrifices, like four hour bus rides. It’s about communication and connection, like a recommendation letter traced in gold. Because of you, he’s moving forward. He can go to college, and the day will never come when he stops being grateful toward you and everything you’ve done. That’s love, and he will spend the rest of his life loving you. Maybe the love will change but it will always be love. 
It hurts that you’re gone, it really does. Jisung doesn’t think it’ll ever stop hurting.
But the last thing he knows is that things will be okay.
Life moves on, and he will too. 
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Who Would've Thought? A Government Teacher and an English Teacher (A Halstead Brothers + Upstead + Halstead Daughter! Imagine; Part of AU-gust)
A/N: Thank you for reading! Remember to like/reblog and comment! I'm also donating all the proceeds that from my buy me a coffee account to Save The Children to help the children of Afghanistan. Link to buy me a coffee.
Anyway, enjoy!
"Hey, I know you aren't a morning person," your dad said as he walked up to you sitting at the bar in the kitchen with a piece of paper in his hand.
"You're right, I'm not," you said.
"All I need is for you to look over the seating chart I made for the juniors."
"Make sure you didn't put people who have beef next to each other?" you asked.
"Exactly. And I figured, since it's your class, you'd be the perfect person to do it."
"And because I'm your daughter."
"That, too."
He set the paper in front of you. "Since I'm doing this for you, care to make me my coffee?" you asked
"The pumpkin spice one?" You nodded. "Kid, it's the first week of September. It's like 75 out (23.9 celsius). Fall's not even close. And, technically, it's still summer."
"Listen, Dunkin' came out with their pumpkin spice stuff in mid-August. And, you know the minute it hits September, I get in the fall mood."
"But you still won't go to a Bears game with me and your Uncle Will," he said.
"Dad, I don't understand football."
He pulled the K-Cup out and put it in the Keurig. "I told you that me and Uncle Will could teach you. And, you seem to understand it when you're at school football games."
"I just cheer when everyone else does. It's not that hard."
"Fair enough."
He pointed to the counter of the bar, so you looked down at the seating chart. You waved him back over to you as you heard the sputtering of the Keurig, telling you that all your coffee was almost in your tumbler.
You pointed to two seats. "These two girls have had beef since middle school, so throw them across the room from each other." Your dad grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and drew a line to put one of the girls on the opposite side of the room. "These two are dating, so unless you want them talking all the time, I suggest you at least move the guy to a different group." He drew another line on the seating chart. "And this guy dated these two girls, so you need to make sure that they're as far away from each other as possible."
"Which one is he dating now?" your dad asked as he drew more lines.
"Neither. He was dating both of them at the same time. Get why none of them can be by each other now?"
"Gotcha."
He took the seating chart from you and handed you your tumbler of coffee. "I don't drink it black," you said as you raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, believe me, I know, but I'll leave you to do that because I don't want to mess up your coffee to creamer ratio and have you get mad at me for it."
"Fair enough."
You sighed as you poured your creamer into your coffee because you thought about all the homework that was going to be piled on to your plate this year.
"What's wrong?" your dad asked.
"I'm gonna be drowning at the end of today."
"Can't argue with you there. But tell me if you think your homework load for APUSH (AP US History) and AP Gov (AP Government) is getting too much for one class. I'll talk to the teachers. And, you have me to help you with your government homework." He said the last part with a huge smile on his face.
"Dad," you groaned. "You've been waiting for me to be a junior forever now just so you could be my teacher."
"Yup, and you chose AP over me. How rude."
"Sorry, but college is expensive. It was only like 50 bucks a class when you went to college back in the olden days."
"Young lady, I am not old."
"Fine, you're vintage. Better?" He just glared at you while you finished stirring your coffee and then started making your breakfast. "But, at least Hail- Miss Upton doesn't give us a ton of homework because she knows we're drowning in homework already and have the SATs to worry about, so that's nice."
You were super thankful for your Honors English 11 teacher, who also taught AP Stats. She gave you at least half an hour each class period to do your homework since she knew that most of you had sports or after-school clubs or a part job to get to and didn't have all night to do homework. She was the one who also said to send her an email if you couldn't get the assignment done and she'd give you an extension. She said that your physical health and mental health were way more important than you finishing your homework.
Your dad was like that, too. Granted, he didn't give the students in his class a ton of homework to begin with, and he made the class fun...at least, that's what you heard from the kids who were juniors last year. The only time your dad really gave homework was when he gave out study guides to fill out. He'd give them out a week before the test and then after two days, he'd check that everyone got them done and go over them in class so that everyone had the right answers to study from. Mr. Jay Halstead also didn't give tests on a Monday because that was just cruel...and he knew that when he was in high school, he absolutely hated homework, so he didn't give a lot of it. And, he hated coming to school on a Monday when he forgot to study over the weekend, so he didn't give tests on Mondays.
"You're not going running this morning?" you asked as you cut up a banana to go into your oatmeal.
"No, I think I'll run with you guys after school today at practice."
Your dad was also the high school cross country coach. You weren't a fast runner by any means, but your best friend, Emma, had made it to regionals and was a great runner. And, your dad said that you either play a sport in high school or you get a job, so you joined the cross country team. In all honesty, you liked running for the endorphin rush it gave you after the run and just talking to some of your teammates while running or listening to music or podcasts while running. But, you weren't competitive, so that's probably why you weren't as fast as Emma, and your dad knew this. But, he was just glad you were being active in some way after school and that you enjoyed exercising even if you weren't the best or the fastest runner. He just wanted you to live a long and healthy life, and he knew starting to exercise in high school would help you build those healthy habits.
But, usually what your dad did in the morning was go to school at like six in the morning, so he'd be up at five, and then he'd utilize the weight room or the indoor track to workout. Then, he'd take a quick shower and get ready there, and be teaching by 7:30. Yeah, he was crazy for running that early.
"You know," you started, "Miss Upton likes to run. Maybe you should see if she'll co-coach with you? Or maybe she'll run with you in the morning?"
Jay shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. "Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that Hailey and I are just friends. Nothing more."
"Says the man who lesson planned with her last week," you said, wiggling your eyebrows.
"Y/N, she's a coworker. I would've done that with anyone. It was just coffee. You read too much into things."
"Dad," you sighed. "You haven't dated in years."
"Yeah, since Abby dropped you off on my doorstep." He used to refer to Abby as your mom, but she wasn't around, so when you were around 14 years old, you just started referring to her as Abby. After all, you had never even met the woman, and she didn't want you, not even leaving an address on the note attached to your pajamas, so she didn't deserve the title of Mom.
"So, 17 years. You haven't dated in 17 years, Dad. You gotta get back out there. Even Uncle Will said you need to."
"You talked to your uncle about this?" he asked. "Oh, and put some egg whites in that oatmeal for some extra protein."
"What? You gonna make us lift weights today at cross country practice?"
He shrugged. "You never know. Now, no more talking to Uncle Will about my love life."
"There's not even anything to talk about. But, he does think you and Miss Upton would look cute together."
You added some egg whites to your oatmeal and put it back in the microwave for an extra minute.
"This has been going on for way too long now, Y/N. We're not gonna date. We're just friends and coworkers. Just drop it."
You put your hands up in mock surrender.
Ever since freshman year when you had Miss Upton for creative writing (yes, she taught one section of AP stats, one section of creative writing, and she also taught Honors English 11 and regular English 11 for the rest of her sections), you knew that her and your dad would be a great match. So, you confided in Emma and she agreed. Ever since then, you hadn't really let the topic go.
"Fine," you groaned...even though you and your dad both knew that the topic would not be dropped in the slightest.
"Now, do you want me to drive you, or do you want to drive yourself?"
Usually, since he left before you, you'd just drive yourself to school since you were 17 and had been driving for a year now. But, during the first week of school, your dad didn't do his morning workouts, so he always gave you the option if you wanted to ride to school with him.
You pursed your lips. "Fine. I'll ride with you, just cause it'll save me gas."
Jay laughed. "You're not even the one who pays for your gas."
He was right. He was the one who paid for your gas because you had always studied hard...and you played a sport, so you didn't have time for a part-time job. Because of this, Jay decided he'd pay for your gas. But, you did have to work a part-time job in the summer.
"Fine. It prolongs the time before I have to go to the gas station. How's that?" you asked.
"Miss Upton would be proud of how you worded that."
"Maybe you should tell her that, Dad. It'd be a great conversation starter."
***
"So," Emma began as you were warming up for your run after the school day ended, "how'd the chat with your dad go?"
You sighed while jogging. "I don't think it's ever gonna happen. He's too damn stubborn to ask her out and he claims that they're just friends and coworkers. I hate it. They'd be so damn cute together."
"I know," Emma agreed. "You know, I overheard her in the hallway between classes saying that she was going to chaperone the homecoming dance. Maybe your dad could get in on that and that's how they could talk more?" she suggested.
"Emma, that's a great idea, but I really don't want my dad at homecoming. That is awkward as hell."
Emma laughed. "Sorry, didn't think about that."
"Hustle up!" your dad yelled. "Time to stretch!"
You started your normal stretching routine before your dad started to give his normal beginning of the school year speech. "Alright, I need all of you to listen up. I don't want anybody talking over me, you hear me?" You all nodded. "Okay, good. So, I know that some of you have heard horror stories about the old cross country coach who said that if you miss a practice, then you miss a meet...unless it was for being sick." Most of you nodded.
Before your dad started coaching and the other cross country coach retired, a lot of the students hated the previous coach's coaching style. His coaching style was run more to get better at running...which sounded good in theory. But, this didn't actually work. You see, what would end up happening was that he'd make the runs longer and longer. He'd even make the athletes do a long run on Saturday and then a short run (which to him was three miles) on Sunday. If an athlete didn't send him the screenshots from apps like map my run, then they wouldn't be able to race in the next meet. This obviously was a recipe for overtraining and injuries. You heard that one girl even hurt her IT band from running so much! So, it was no surprise that most people hated the coach and so many parents complained, so he stepped down, and then your dad came in to coach.
"That's not how I coach," your dad continued. "School and your grades are really important. So is sleep. I don't want you guys not getting sleep or not getting to spend time with friends or not have other social interactions because you have to practice for two hours and then go home and do homework and get to bed late. I don't want you guys to be sleep-deprived zombies." Most of you laughed at that. "With that being said, if you're overwhelmed and feel like there's not enough time in a day, just come talk to me and we'll figure it out. Whether that's only coming to practice for an hour or taking a few days off to study for an upcoming test or taking time off for a family emergency, we'll figure out what to do." Everyone nodded. "Alright everybody, let's go run the big loop. Keep track of your split times."
***
You were walking inside with Emma to go grab your stuff from your locker after you had finished practice. Perks of having your dad be a teacher? You and your friend could leave your stuff inside instead of bringing it outside with you.
"Just meet me in my room when you're done, Y/N," your dad told you. "Have a good night, Emma."
"You too, Mr. Halstead," she replied.
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jay when it's not school or practice hours?" Jay smiled and then walked down the hall to his classroom to retrieve the stuff he had brought with him for the day...with his shirt sticky from sweat since he had run with you guys today.
He walked out of his classroom with his backpack and gym bag, to come face to face with Miss Hailey Upton walking out of her classroom as well.
"Run with the team today, Jay?" she asked.
"Yeah, you know, first week of school, kind of hard to get my early morning runs in when there's so much to do on the classroom side," he answered.
"Understandable. I've been doing mine after I lesson plan and before dinner. Hopefully, I'll be back to nightly runs soon before it starts getting dark earlier and earlier."
"But, when it gets too dark, then you'll be running in the mornings soon...and then it'll be cold," Jay pointed out.
"There's this thing called a treadmill, Jay. I utilize that in the winter."
"That shows that you're an English teacher: you use big words."
Hailey rolled her eyes. "I see you reading books during your lunch period. I know you know big words, you just prefer not to use them."
"Yeah, because I want the kids to think I'm a cool teacher...not a snob."
"I am not a snob!" Hailey jokingly argued.
"I'm kidding, Hailey! I'm kidding! And, I know you lesson plan and grade on your lunch break, too instead of going to the teacher's lounge."
"Spying on me now, huh?"
"Our rooms are right across from each other and we have the same lunch period, what else am I supposed to do?" he laughed.
Hailey sighed dramatically. "Oh, I guess. Tell you what: come to my room during our lunch period and I can give you some good book recommendations."
"I get enough book recommendations from my daughter, thank you very much. But, I guess I can always use more."
"So, see you during tomorrow's lunch period?"
"See you then. Have a good night, Hailey."
"You, too. Tell Y/N I say hi and not to work too hard on all her homework."
Then, they walked down the hallway and Jay walked back towards where you were still chatting with Emma. All the while, he was thanking God that you weren't there during that conversation between him and Hailey because he wouldn't hear the end of it. But, he was also wondering what the hell he'd just gotten into.
***
"You will not believe what I just saw!" Emma whispered to you the next day in your AP gov class.
"What?" you whispered back.
She had forgotten her laptop in her locker and had to go get it. Which, the route to her locker from the classroom you were currently in went right past your dad and Hailey's classrooms.
"Your dad and Miss Upton are in her classroom eating lunch together."
Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. "No way!"
You received a glare from the teacher and were quiet. But, you'd be sure to ask your dad about this when you went home tonight.
***
"Uncle Will's coming over for dinner in an hour," your dad told you when you got inside your house after practice. You had decided to drive yourself to school today instead of riding with him. "How much homework do you have?"
"Uh..." you blanched and set down your backpack and unzipped it. Then, you grabbed your planner and flipped it open, laying it out on the kitchen table. "I have an AP stats worksheet that's due tomorrow, I have to read half a chapter in my AP bio textbook by Monday, I have to read a full chapter of my AP gov textbook by Tuesday, and I have an APUSH assignment due tomorrow. Oh, and I should probably read a chapter of the book I chose to read for my English class plus I have to annotate a few paragraphs of crappy 16th-century literature by tomorrow, too."
"Christ," your dad said. "So, what do you have to do tonight?"
"AP stats worksheet, APUSH assignment, and I have to annotate for English. I could always not read the chapter in the book I chose to read if I don't want to."
"Do you want me to just tell Uncle Will to come over this weekend?" he asked.
Jay know knew you absolutely loved his brother and that you were always excited to tell him about your day and how school was going. It had always been this way because, when Jay found you on his doorstep, he was 22, and had just started undergrad and was working on his teaching degree. Because of this, when Will wasn't studying in his last two years of med school and later working in a hospital as a new resident, he was your go-to babysitter. And you absolutely loved when he came over...despite not being able to remember much because you were so young. Apparently, you had been particularly fascinated by Will's red hair and would pull on it every chance you got. But, he'd let you play with it until it really started to hurt him because you were his favorite (and only) niece and he knew he'd do anything for you. This came in handy as you got older because you realized you had him wrapped around your finger and would always ask him for homework help. Or, if your dad wouldn't give you spending money, you'd go straight to your Uncle Will, and usually, he'd give you some.
"No," you answered. "A doctor needs to know stats, right?"
"I think so," your dad answered. "Why? Are you struggling already? Do you need to go into the regular stats class instead of the advanced one?"
You laughed at your dad's concern. "No, I'm fine. Just figured he'd be able to check it for me to make sure I did everything right."
"Oh, good. And, I'm pretty sure he can do that. Now, go take a shower so you can get started on your homework before he gets here and so I can start on dinner."
***
"Guess what?" you asked as all three of you twirled your spaghetti onto your forks at the dinner table an hour later.
"Chicken butt," Will said.
Jay rolled his eyes. "I swear, I wonder if Mom and Dad were lying when they said that you were older. Maybe I'm the older one and they just lied to us because you sure do act like the younger brother."
"Relax, Jay. Just because I'm more fun than you and Y/N likes me better, does not mean that I'm immature."
"Anyway," you said, wanting to tell Will what you had found out earlier today, "do you want to know what I have to say or not?"
"Go ahead," Will said.
"Okay, so today during AP gov, Emma had to back to her locker to grab her laptop. And she went right by Dad and Miss Upton's classrooms." You paused as you looked over at your dad and saw his eyes slightly widen and then go back to normal. "And they were eating lunch together in her classroom!"
"Awe," Will cooed. "My little brother's back on the market. Good for you, man." Then, he turned to you. "Upton's the short, blonde English teacher you've been trying to set him up with for years now, right?"
"He's not supposed to know about the set-up part!" you hissed.
"Oh, sorry. Jay, forget I said that."
"Y/N, I already you've been trying to set us up," your dad laughed. "It's been kind of obvious."
"Now that that's settled," Will started, "how'd it go? What did you two talk about? And are you having lunch together tomorrow?"
"You two are terrible, you know that?"
"Oh, we know," Will said. "But, you can't ground me, so I can be as terrible as I want."
Jay laughed. "She won't get grounded for that, Will. She might get grounded if she keeps procrastinating her stats homework, though."
"Need help, kiddo?" Will asked. "I have to read stats for things like new drugs and stuff, so I'm good at that. Don't know if I can help you with actually solving the problem because it's been ages since I've done that, but I can try."
"No, thanks, though. I just took a long shower so I have to get it done after dinner. I understand it all, though."
"Good, you can always come to me if you need help with it, though," Will offered. "Or, since it's Miss Upton--" He looked directly at Jay when he said Miss Upton and then turned his attention back to you. "--who's your stats teacher, you can always ask her. But, be sure to drag your dad along with you."
"Will!"
***
Two weeks later
"Might want to tell them to drink a ton of water after this, Jay, because it's so hot," Hailey Upton said as she walked up to Jay Halstead--and Coach Halstead for the next few hours--at an away cross country meet on a Wednesday afternoon in mid-September. "Or better yet, get them some Gatorade."
"Hailey?" Jay asked as he turned around, getting his stopwatch ready. "What are you doing here? And, I'd get them Gatorade if I could. I kinda forgot to pick it up last night."
"I'm here because some kids asked me to come to their meet. And, I always try to come to those things if kids ask me."
Jay cocked an eyebrow. "Would two of those kids be my daughter and her best friend?"
"Among others."
He looked down at the rolling cooler she had brought. "What's with the cooler?"
"Well, you may not have had time to pick up Gatorade, but I did. So, there's one in there for each kid plus the coach...and me of course."
"How'd you know Gatorade would help?" Jay asked. "Other than logic of course."
Hailey laughed. "I've run a few marathons in my life, Jay. I know all about proper hydration and how important it is to refuel after a hot run."
At this, Jay raised his eyebrows. He knew that she ran, but she didn't know that she ran marathons. "Oh, wow. Which ones?"
"You know, the Chicago marathon obviously. Always wanted to do like Boston or someplace, but you have to qualify for those, you can't just go and sign up like here in Chicago. Oh, and I've always wanted to do a Disney marathon. I think it'd be cool, you know? Run through Disney World, maybe hop on some rides during the race."
Jay smiled. "That actually does sound really fun."
The announcer said that it was ten minutes until it was time to race.
"I gotta get to the first mile marker," Jay said.
"Okay, where's our tent? I'll go put this cooler under it."
Jay told Hailey where the tent was and was about to leave when she stopped him.
"Where do I get the maps? I can go to the second mile marker to help out with times in case you can't get there fast enough," she suggested.
"That'd, uh, that'd actually be great, Hailey. Thank you. And, you just get the maps from the table right over there," Jay answered and pointed to a table about 200 meters away.
"Awesome, thanks. See you after the race, Coach," Hailey joked.
Jay nodded and started to jog off toward the first mile marker. But, all the while he wondered what the hell this woman was doing to him. Because he felt his cheeks heating up in a blush as he jogged off.
And, as for Hailey, well she was watching as Jay jogged away and loved the way he ran with perfect form and how his biceps flexed just enough that she could see the muscles slightly bulge.
She laughed to herself. If they ever went running together, she'd have to tell him to loosen up because you weren't supposed to run with your arms as taut as his were; he was wasting energy.
But, for now, she just made her way over to the tent and left the cooler and then went to get a map and start off toward the second mile marker to help out a fellow teacher...well, maybe he was starting to be more than just a fellow teacher. Neither of them really knew at this point. But, Hailey liked the thrill of it all. She felt like she was in high school again...a high school student, not a high school teacher.
***
You panted and winced as you crossed the finish line. Shit, your shin splints were really acting up this time, and God, it was so hot out and you felt nauseous and even had to walk during some points of the race. We'll see what your dad had to say about that.
Wait, was that Miss Upton coming up to you?
It is! She actually came!
"Y/N, are you okay? I saw you walking," she said worriedly while your dad jogged over since you were the last one on your team to finish.
"You good, kid?" your dad asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. My shin splints just hurt really bad and I think the heat's making me feel sick."
"Okay, well, I have to go watch the boys and make sure they're ready. Hailey, can you, uh, help Y/N? The medical tent's across from here. Maybe make sure she gets under our team tent without puking and get her something to drink?"
"I can do that, Jay, don't worry."
Emma walked up to you. "Good job!" she exclaimed.
"Girl, I didn't even run as fast as you! You flew through there. But, it's hot as hell!" you said.
"It is really hot. You gonna watch the guys' race?"
"No, Dad told me to sit under our tent in the shade. Gotta get some ice for my shins first, though."
"Shin splints acting up?"
"Yeah."
Then, you, Miss Upton, and Emma walked over to the medical tent where you got bags of ice wrapped around your shins.
***
"I'll run to Mcdonald's and get you ice, too," your dad said before you got in your separate cars back at school after the meet. "What do you want?"
"Uh, a ten-piece nugget--don't forget the honey mustard--a medium fry, and a medium lemonade," you said as your dad typed it into the notes app of his phone. "Thanks."
"I'll see you at home. Drive careful."
"See you in like half an hour."
Then you drove home and decided to start on some homework while still in your sweaty cross country uniform.
When your dad got home, you gobbled down your food because damn, you were hungry after that mentally taxing race. Then, you and your dad filled the bathtub up with ice and cold water.
Time for hell...aka an ice bath. At this point, you'd do anything to prevent your shin splints from getting bad. At least the old coach wasn't coaching because, from all the horror stories you heard, it'd be worse for your shins if he was coaching and not your dad.
After you changed into a pair of spandex shorts and a long-sleeved running shirt and a hoodie, you lowered yourself into the freezing and icy water. You set your phone timer for eight minutes and braved the cold for that long.
Then, after that, you drained the bathtub and took a very hot shower. But, as you were in there, you started feeling nauseous again. You crouched down and actually ended up throwing up a bit in the shower. It was nothing major, you just figured it was from eating too fast. But, you were still really tired.
And this is what you told your dad when you got out of the shower.
"But, I still have homework," you said defeatedly. "I kinda wanna just go to sleep now. It's already 7:00 and I have at least two to four hours of homework to do."
Jay sighed. He never wanted to play this game, but he wasn't going to let you run on not enough sleep tomorrow when you weren't even feeling your best.
"What classes?" he asked.
"Uh, I have to get APUSH done which will take me like at least two hours, and then I have English and stats homework," you answered.
Jay sighed. "I'll give Hailey a call and explain the situation and see if she'll give you an extension on the English and stats homework."
Your eyes widened. "Really?"
"Yes, now go grab some water and get started on your APUSH homework. And.. it will only be a one day extension."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best Dad ever!"
Then, you grabbed your water and went back upstairs to your room.
But, all you could think about was that your dad and Miss Upton were talking over the phone outside of school. Maybe they were becoming more than just co-workers.
Jay dialed Hailey's phone number and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
"Jay?" she asked when she answered.
"Hi, Hailey. Yeah, it's Jay. Listen I have a huge favor to ask you," he said.
"What is it?"
"So Y/N puked a bit in the shower, probably because of the amount of sodium in those damn chicken nuggets she wanted, and then she took an ice bath and then a hot shower, so the quick and significant temperature change probably played a role. Anyway, how it happened isn't the point. It's just that she's really tired and she has AP US history homework that she has to finish. So, would it be okay if you gave her a one day extension on her English homework and her stats homework? If not, I completely understand because you can't just make exceptions because she's a teacher's kid and--"
"Jay, relax," Hailey laughed. "Yes, I'll give her the extensions. What is it that you always tell your team? Their physical and mental health comes first?"
Jay chuckled and then took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, that's about right. And, thank you. Y/N will greatly appreciate that."
"No problem. But, I also have a favor to ask you."
Jay cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"So, we're short on chaperones for the homecoming dance and I was wondering if maybe you could chaperone? And, I figured that since you have a kid and would probably want to be there for her pictures before the dance, you don't have to help us set up. Maybe just chaperone and then help us tear down? If not just chap--"
"Hailey, of course, I'll help out. Now, Y/N, she might not be happy that I'll be chaperoning her school dance, but I'll be there. Count me in."
***
2 weeks later, 3 days before homecoming dance
"Okay, I know I'm just your English teacher," Miss Upton started at the beginning of class that day, "but I still care about your guys' safety. So, please, please, please do not drive drunk or buzzed. Call your parents to pick you up. I can absolutely promise you that they'd be happier that you called them to pick you up than you trying to drive home and getting into a car accident."
"What if my parents will be mad at me for drinking anyway?" one kid asked.
"So, if that's the case, you can always call me and I will come pick you up from wherever you're at. I can lose a few hours of sleep to make sure that you guys are home safe." She started writing numbers on the whiteboard. "Right here is my cell phone number, if you think you'll need it, write it down or make it a contact in your phone. Again, I'd rather not come to school on Monday and learn that one of you is in the hospital because of something that could have been prevented."
You pulled out your phone, you didn't think that you'd need Miss Upton's number, but you figured you'd put it in just in case since two girls from your AP gov class asked you to be the DD for a party. You were kind of friends with them, like you studied for tests together, but that was it. But, you had debated it because it was a party after homecoming and you had never been to a party before...let alone one after a dance.
"Oh, Miss Upton," you said as you put your phone face down on your desk.
"Yes, Y/N?" she asked.
"What color dress are you wearing when you're chaperoning the dance?"
"I haven't really thought it much." She furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered why you were asking this question. "But, probably red. Why?"
"Just wondering."
And now, you just needed to make sure that your dad had a red tie and that he actually wore it when he was chaperoning the dance.
***
3 days later, homecoming
"What about this?" your dad asked as he walked out of his room in dress pants, a white shirt, a navy blue tie, and a sport coat.
You were already in your dress and had gotten your hair and nails done earlier in the day, so now you were just waiting to take some pictures with Emma and then actually go to the dance.
"Hmm, I don't know. The shirt and tie are kind of what you wear to work everyday, so I think you need something different. Maybe a brighter tie or something," you said and then walked into his room and opened his closet.
You sifted through the closet until you found what you were looking for: a black shirt and a red tie.
"I think you should wear these," you said and laid the two pieces of clothing on his bed.
"What? Why? You know I never wear red. That tie has been hung up in my closet since you were probably ten," he argued.
"That's the point, Dad! You need to get out of your comfort zone and wear something besides what you wear to school...or in your case, work. It's a dance, so you have to wear something fancy."
Jay groaned. He knew he wasn't going to be able to win this argument.
"Fine. I'll change."
"Good."
Then, you walked out of his room.
Your plan had worked.
***
"Mr. Halstead," Hailey said as she saw Jay walk onto the dance floor a few hours later when all the lights were off and the cleared-out cafeteria became full of students dancing.
"Miss Upton," he greeted. She laughed. "What?"
"It's nothing," Hailey said quickly. "It's just that, well your tie..." she trailed off while his eyes raked down her body in the slightly tight (but not too tight because they were at a school function) spaghetti strap bright red dress that she was wearing. "Let's just say I now know why Y/N asked me what color dress I was wearing."
Jay groaned and shook his head. "My daughter. Always...you know, I don't know what her game is at this point, but I should've suspected something when she told me to go change."
But damn, Jay thought, she does look good in red.
God, Hailey thought, I wish he'd wear those kind of black shirts to work more often.
***
It was now after the dance and you and your dad had arrived back at home at around the same time.
"You're a little devil, you know that?" he asked when you were both inside.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I plead the fifth," you replied.
"Very funny. You can't do that."
"Yes, I can. You should know this, Dad, you teach government."
"You can plead the fifth in court, but you cannot do it with your dad. So, I know that you asked Hailey what color dress she was wearing just so my tie could match it."
"Oooh, so we're calling her Hailey and not Miss Upton now. I'd say that's a step up. What did you two talk about at the dance? Because I know for a fact that you didn't ask her to slow dance."
"And you didn't slow dance with anyone either, so we're even, kid," Jay retorted.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Get this hair out."
"Okay." Your dad yawned. "I'm gonna get to bed. Now I know why you sleep until noon the day after dances: they're exhausting."
"Tell me about it. Goodnight. Send Miss Upton-- well, Hailey now-- a text to make sure she got home safe!"
You didn't even wait for your dad's witty reply before you bounded up the stairs and into your bathroom.
But, you didn't actually end up taking a shower. You ran the shower while you washed off your makeup and re-did it into something more party-appropriate and then took down your hair and put it up into a ponytail.
After half an hour, you turned off the shower and wrapped your still dry body in a towel after you had stripped off your dress. You peeked out of the bathroom to see that your dad's bedroom door was closed, which meant that he was asleep.
Then, you tiptoed into your room and changed your clothes.
You pulled out your phone to tell the girls to park a few houses down so your dad didn't hear the car pull in the driveway or see the headlights.
Your plan of going to your very first high school party was a go.
***
It had been two hours since you had snuck out and it was nearing two in the morning. And, you weren't feeling too hot. You had decided not to drink because you were the DD out of you and the two girls from class. And, you had kept the car keys away from them so that they couldn't do anything stupid...and so you could keep them safe. You hadn't drank anything, but you had eaten the fruit off of the top of the spiked punch bowl and, for whatever reason, you were starting to feel lighter and happier.
Shit.
Your dad had warned that fruit soaks up alcohol. How could you have been so stupid to forget that? He was going to kill you! There's no way you could call him to pick you up, absolutely no way!
Somehow, you found your friends, they were by the makeshift bar, no shock there because you knew the only reason they were there was to get drunk. Note to self: if people you only know because of one class ask you to come to a party for the sole purpose of being the DD, do not go.
Luckily for you, one of the girls' boyfriends played on the football team and wasn't going to risk his season just for one party. So, you told him that you needed to leave and that you were the DD and asked if he could get the two girls home safely. He agreed and you passed off the car keys to him.
Then you walked outside, the chilly mid-October night air helping to slow the nervousness coursing through your veins about facing your dad.
You pulled out your phone and hit the contact you had made in class a few days ago.
"Hello? This is Hailey," you heard Hailey's voice on the other end of the phone.
"Miss Upton, it's Y/N Halstead," you said.
"Y/N? Are you okay?" You heard shuffling on the end of the line and assumed that Miss Upton was standing up from somewhere.
"I mean, I'm kinda woozy I guess. But, I snuck out and my dad doesn't know where I am." You hung your head. You couldn't believe you had been so stupid.
"And you had a drink so you can't drive home?" she finished.
"Yeah." She didn't need to know the details. All she needed to know was that you needed help getting home.
"Okay, send me your location and I'll be there soon, okay? Is it safe for you? Do you need me to stay on the phone or call the cops?"
"No, no, I'm perfectly fine. Just need someone to drive me home."
"Okay good. Send me that location and I'll be there soon."
Then, she told you the model of her car and the color so you could spot her easily. Once you were off the phone, you sent her your location and she replied with a thumbs up, telling you that she got it.
Your phone rang. You thought it was Miss Upton, but then you looked down and saw it was your dad.
Double shit.
***
"Please don't tell my dad," you said when you pulled up to your driveway half an hour later.
"Y/N, I have--"
But, she was saved from telling you that she needed to tell your dad when the front door flung open.
Your dad must've seen the headlights.
"Go," Miss Upton said. "You're only prolonging the inevitable if you stay in here."
You sighed. "Will you walk me up?"
"Sure."
So, both you and Miss Upton exited the car.
The minute your dad saw you, he ran down the steps to you.
"Young lady!" he yelled. "Where were you? Do you know how worried I was? You could've gotten seriously hurt!" He paused. "Get over here!"
You knew to listen to him when he pulled out the dad voice.
He put two fingers underneath your chin and tipped your head up. "Breathe. Now."
It was faint, but it was there, your dad smelt stale vodka on your breath...mixed with a citrusy scent and teeth that hadn't been brushed since the previous morning.
He sighed and clenched his teeth. Then, he put his hands down and he finally spotted Hailey. "Hailey, what are you doing here?" he asked, unclenching his jaw.
"I always tell my students that they can call me if they need to get picked up from parties and can't drive. So far, Y/N's the only one who has utilized that."
"Well, thank you. I'm sorry she had to make you come out at this time of night." He turned back to you. "As for you, go inside. Not only did you drink, but you went to a party, too. We'll talk in a few minutes."
You hung your head and made your way inside and sat down on the couch in the living room.
Jay walked up to Hailey. "I'm really sorry about her. But, thank you for getting her home safe. How far did you have to drive? I can give you gas money for all of this on Monday."
"Jay, it's fine. I make this offer for homecoming and prom every year. You don't have to pay me. I just wanna make sure all the kids get home safe, that's all."
"At least let me buy you coffee or something. You brought my little girl home safe when I didn't even know where she was. I think that warrants some type of reward."
"If you want to repay me that bad," Hailey began, "I'm lesson planning and grading at Starbucks tomorrow. I guess you can buy me a coffee."
"Done. Text me the time and I'll be there."
"Will do."
"Now, excuse me, but I have to go deal with my daughter."
"Goodnight, Jay."
"Night, Hailey."
Then, she drove off and back to her house while Jay walked up his front steps and wondered what he was going to say to you.
"Look at me," your dad demanded when he made his way into the living room.
You looked up. "I'm so--"
"No," your dad said quickly, cutting you off. "You don't talk. You only listen. Do you understand me?" You nodded. "Good. Do you know how worried sick I was when I couldn't find you inside? I was beside myself, Y/N. I didn't know where you were, I didn't know if you were hurt. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. What you did was stupid and reckless and please do not ever, ever do that again. Never do that again. Do you hear me?"
"Yes," you answered.
"Good."
You took a deep breath before you asked your next question. "Am I in trouble?"
Your dad sighed and sat down next to you. "As much as I want to ground you, no you are not in trouble. I'm just so relieved that you're home safe. And, you made the right decision by not driving and calling someone to pick you up...even if it wasn't me."
"Do you want an explanation as to why I went?" you asked.
"No, God no. I may look calm on the outside, but on the inside, I'm still pissed."
"Can I ask how you knew I snuck out?"
"You forgot to leave your fan on and I knew it was way too quiet in your room."
The doorbell rang.
"Shoot, I forgot to tell your uncle that you're home safe. But, you better go up to bed before me and him talk and think of a punishment for you."
"So you're still mad?" you asked.
"A little mad, but mostly I'm just relieved and disappointed. I thought you knew better." You hung your head. "Now, go to bed."
"Okay." You stood up. "Goodnight, I love you." You gave him a hug.
He gave you a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too, kid. Now, get to bed."
You went upstairs, but instead of going all the way to your room, you sat down on the landing, intent on listening to your dad's and your uncle's conversation about you.
"Hey, she's home. It's all good," Jay said as he answered the door and then motioned for his brother to come inside.
"Oh, thank God. Where was she?" Will asked as they made their way to the living room and sat down on different couches, facing each other.
"Apparently she went to a party. I know she drank because I smelled alcohol on her breath. It was just a bit, but it was there."
"If you want, we can bring her to Med and I can do a tox screen to see the level of alcohol in her system," Will suggested.
"You know, that's not a bad idea actually."
Jay quickly stood up, but Will stopped him. "I'm kidding, man! Don't do that! She was still lucid when she came home, right?"
"Yeah, she was walking and talking normally."
"Okay, then sit your ass back down and don't drag your daughter to Med. Did you ground her?"
"No, I actually didn't."
"There's a shock. You always said you'd ground your kid if they snuck out. Oh, how things changed."
"I was just so relieved," Jay said and sat back down. "When Hailey pulled in the driveway and Y/N got out of her car--"
"Wait," Will started, cutting Jay off, "Hailey picked her up? Hailey Upton?"
"Yeah," Jay answered. "Apparently she'll give out her phone number to the kids in case they need to get home safe from somewhere after prom and homecoming. And, Y/N called her and not me."
"I wouldn't call you either," Will joked. "You'd probably scream at her in front of everyone at the party."
"I would not!" Will cocked his head to the side. "Okay, maybe, but that's beside the point. All that matters is that Y/N had the wherewithal to know that she couldn't drive and she solved that problem. God, Will, the amount of adrenaline that left my body when I saw her get out of that car was astronomical."
"I bet. So, do you know where she went?"
"I just know it was some party. She got lectured when she got home, don't worry about that." Jay put his head in his hands.
"What? What's wrong, Jay?"
"Anything could've happened to her, Will, and I wouldn't have been there to protect her. I wouldn't have been able to protect my own kid."
"Jay, you can't blame yourself. Hell, most teenagers do this stuff."
"I know, I know. It's just that her grades have been slipping slightly and I'm wondering if I should have her transfer schools." Your eyes widened as you listened to that part of the conversation. "Maybe, having her dad teach at the same school isn't helping her. She went to a party, Will. Maybe it's the kids she's meeting in class, maybe being at another school would be better for her."
"Jay, you can't make a decision like that based on one stupid decision the kid did." He knew his brother was torn up about this, so he changed the subject. "What'd Hailey say?"
"I offered to pay for her gas, but she shut me down."
"Anything else?"
Jay sighed. He knew his brother wouldn't let up. "We're going out for coffee tomorrow to grade. She said I can repay her by buying her coffee there."
"Aw, you're going on a date."
"It is not a date! It's just two coworkers working in a coffee shop together...in their off time."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that."
A few minutes later, the conversation was over and Jay walked Will out, so you made your way to your room.
One thing was for sure: you were not giving your dad another opportunity to even think about you switching schools.
It was time to grind...starting tomorrow because you desperately needed to sleep right now.
***
You woke up around 11:00 the next day, which was Sunday. Then you got up and went downstairs to eat some breakfast.
"Morning," your dad said. "I made breakfast sandwiches. There's two in the fridge if you want one...or both."
"Thanks," you said. You wanted to ask if he was still mad, but you didn't really want to have an argument right when you woke up.
But, being around teenagers all day must've given your dad a sixth sense.
"Listen, kid, I'm not mad at you if that's what you're worried about. You just... you scared me last night. If something happened to you because I couldn't protect you-- because, as a parent, it is my first responsibility to keep you safe. Anyway, if I couldn't keep you safe because I didn't know where you were, I would never be able to forgive myself."
"Can I tell you why--"
"No. As a teacher at the school, the less I know the better. I really don't want to have to tell the administration and then get kids suspended from their sports for drinking. So, all I know is that you snuck out, went to a party, and drank. I don't wanna know who else was there or whose house it was at."
"But, I--"
"Y/N, end of discussion. Now, I have to go and meet Hail-- Miss Upton, for coffee since she so graciously picked you up when you made a bad decision last night. Don't do anything stupid when I'm gone or else you will be in trouble, got it?"
"Yeah, I got it. I'm just gonna study for the SATs."
"Good idea. Be back later. I love you."
"Love you, too, Dad."
***
"...And whatever she's having," Jay said and slid over so that the barista could input Hailey's order.
"Just a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew, please," Hailey ordered.
Jay paid and then he and Hailey waited by the other side of the counter for their drinks to be ready.
Jay laughed. "You and my daughter have the same taste. You both like vanilla sweet cream cold brews."
"I'm shocked you let her get that with the amount of caffeine in cold brew," she said.
"Eh, it's just like once a week. On my rest day when I don't have to be at school before dawn to run, I'll grab her and I something from Starbucks, and then she'll just stop by my room to get it before school starts."
"That's nice of you," Hailey mused.
"Yeah, but nothing compared to Miss I have coffee in my room for the kids and you can drink as much as you want Upton."
"If you've ever heard kids talk about how little sleep they get like I do since I teach AP classes, then you'd get why I do that, Halstead. I hear kids saying that they normally only get four hours of sleep a night because they're up so late doing homework. While I don't think they should become dependent on caffeine at such a young age and need to be getting a lot more sleep than that, they need to stay awake during school. That's also probably the reason why you and I don't give a lot of homework."
"And it's ridiculous how early school starts anyway," Jay said and grabbed their drinks off the counter.
"I'll drink to that," Hailey laughed and then poked her straw in her cold brew and took a sip.
Once they took their seats, they talked a little before starting to grade and lesson plan.
"Not to pry or anything," Hailey began, "but did you ground Y/N? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to, I'm not her parent, so I know I'm not the least bit entitled to that information."
"Well, you did pick her up when she needed help, so I'd say you are entitled to that information," Jay chuckled. "But, to answer your question, no I didn't ground her just because I was so relieved that she was home. The amount of adrenaline and cortisol that dropped in my body when I saw her get out of your car was amazing, Hailey. Thank you so much." He paused and took a sip of his cappuccino. "But, we did have a talk about how she shouldn't be doing that because it's dangerous and if something happened to her, that I wouldn't be able to help her and since I'm her parent, my first job is to keep her safe. She does know that if she sneaks out or goes to a party again, I will be grounding her, though."
"Well, you had a much different and a way better reaction than my dad did when he learned that I snuck out," Hailey muttered.
But, Jay had great hearing and heard her. He put down his coffee and furrowed his eyebrows. "What happened? You don't have to tell me anything you aren't comfortable with."
"Why did you become a teacher?" Hailey asked instead.
"Why did I become a teacher?" Jay repeated and Hailey nodded. "Well, as you know I was in the Rangers in Afghanistan and, while I was there I saw so many kids walking super far to schools or us accompanying children to school. They had to go through so much just to get to school, and I wanted to make a difference in kids' lives here Stateside. So, when I came home, I enrolled in college and got my degrees in education and a minor in history." Hailey had known that he was a veteran, which explained why he took every September 11 off, but she didn't know he became a teacher because of what he saw over there. "What about you?" he asked. "You went into social work before you became a teacher, right?"
For the past almost month and a half, the two teachers had been eating lunch together in either Hailey or Jay's classroom, and during those, they obviously talked about their experience with education and what made them want to go into the teaching field. Hailey mentioned one time that she was originally a social work major but then switched it to education. But, Jay didn't know why.
"Yeah, yeah, I was originally a social work major. But, it uh, it brought up some really bad memories and I didn't think I could handle being around that all day," Hailey answered, staring directly at her coffee.
Jay cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? Again, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."
"Um, it's okay. It's a part of my past. So, why I said that you were a lot nicer to Y/N when she snuck out was because, well, when my dad found out that I did, he uh, he..." she trailed off.
Jay's gaze was soft and sad as he finished for her. "Physical?" he asked, referring to the type of abuse she had endured as a child and teenager.
"Yeah," she whispered.
"Hailey, I am so, so sorry that happened to you. I'm honored that you'd tell me this."
"It's uh, it's why I give those kids my phone number in case they need help. And, at the beginning of the year, it's on my syllabus, too," she said.
"In case they need a way out, they can call you," Jay said, piecing it together.
Hailey nodded.
Jay reached across the table and gently grabbed Hailey's hand in his. "You're a good woman, Hailey Upton."
She smiled sadly and nodded, grounding herself by focusing on the feeling of Jay's hand in hers.
"Do you want to get started on grading now?" she asked after a minute had passed.
"That might be a good idea," Jay laughed. Then, he let go of Hailey's hand. But, neither of them wanted that little handhold to end.
***
One month later
God, you were in pain. You didn't wanna get out of bed; you just wanted to sleep. Hell, you needed sleep.
Over the past month, you had thrown yourself into studying. You wanted to stay at this school. You loved all your teachers and you didn't want to leave your friends, especially your best friend Emma. And, you were also scared that if you had to transfer schools, that you might not do well on your AP exams or that you'd have a bunch of other requirements that the new school had that you'd have to do the last half of your junior year and during the entirety of your senior year.
You didn't want any of that.
So, you had come up with a plan.
The day after homecoming and that next week, you studied an hour or two hours later than normal. But, you still felt that you had work to do if you didn't want your dad to transfer you at the end of the semester. So, during your study hall hour, you'd go to the teachers and ask how you could get your B+ up to an A- or your A- up to an A. You'd even review questions you got wrong on quizzes so that you could get them right when those types of questions showed up on the tests.
Yes, the teachers probably thought you were crazy because you had good grades already and were trying to be Little Miss Perfect (or they thought that you were trying to get into another scholarship bracket for college or trying to become valedictorian), but you didn't care if you looked crazy. You wanted to finish your high school career at the school you were at now.
Also during this time, you had been "going to sleep" around 10:00-11:00, which was your normal time, just so that your dad didn't get suspicious. But, what you'd actually do was sleep for an hour-ish and then get up and study more.
It started with you studying until midnight and at the latest 1:30 in the morning...and then you'd wake up five hours later at 6:30. It wasn't ideal, but you could manage. Because, since your dad went to school earlier than you, you just brought extra coffee to school and he didn't notice a thing.
But, since all the teachers wanted to get their tests in before Thanksgiving break, for the past two weeks, you had been doing your power nap thing so your dad assumed that you were asleep, and then would wake up and do homework and study until 3:00-3:30 in the morning. This meant, that during the week, you were running on just three to three and a half hours of sleep a night. And, it wasn't like you could catch up a ton on the weekend, or else your dad would get suspicious. So, you just got like seven or maybe eight hours of sleep on the weekends. So, you were constantly in a state of sleep debt and in desperate need of caffeine.
You had done the extra cup of coffee for the first two weeks, but for the past two weeks, you had been drinking two cups of coffee at your house before school and finishing the second cup at school right before classes start, but then going into Miss Upton's classroom and getting another cup of coffee. Then, you'd also get another one from her room a little after lunch. (You made sure to never go in there during her lunch period because your dad and her still ate lunch together and you didn't want him to get suspicious.) Also, sometimes you and Emma would go to Starbucks to study after school. So, lately, you had been averaging four to five cups of coffee during the week and just two on the weekends. Because, again, you couldn't have your dad getting suspicious.
And, your dad and Miss Upton ran together in the morning before school now, so you really had to be careful about what you told Miss Upton. You couldn't have her telling your dad that you were drinking a couple additional cups of coffee. You just told her that your coffee never stayed warm long enough when you brought it from home, which is why you opted for hers. And, she bought it.
To cover the bags under your eyes, you had been wearing a bit of extra foundation and cover-up. And, to make sure that your dad didn't notice at home, you'd wash off all your makeup after school, but then quickly redo the area under your eyes.
So far, he was oblivious.
But, for a week and a half, your stomach had been super achy and you couldn't stand to eat anything in the morning before you had at least one cup of coffee. So, what would typically happen was that you'd end up eating a bowl of overnight oats in your car in the school parking lot before walking inside so that your coffee had time to digest. You figured out that you were fine after that. Well, it was still achy, but not as bad as in the morning.
God, you wish you were at that point right now.
For the past five days, you've been feeling nauseous and your stomach has been achy, but in the morning, there'd be a stabbing pain before you had any coffee. You'd roll out of bed when your alarm went off and go straight downstairs to get coffee because that seemed to be the only thing--besides ibuprofen--that would alleviate the pain.
But right now, right now was the worst you had ever felt in your entire life. You felt like someone was stabbing your stomach and it wouldn't let up. You felt nauseous like you'd puke any second. And, trying to get into another position didn't help. Nothing helped.
Fuck, you had to swallow your pride and your secrecy and go tell your dad.
You needed help and you needed it now.
So, you got up. But, that just made it worse. You swallowed, trying to keep the lump in your throat and not have it go on the floor.
You whimpered and then walked a few steps and opened your bedroom door.
Then, you threw yourself on the floor and crawled across the hallway.
You held your breath as you stood up, anticipating a ton of pain--which came--when you stood up and opened the door to your dad's room.
Then, you went back on the floor and crawled in there with tears streaming down your face.
It took all your energy to whisper, "Daddy."
***
Jay blinked sleepily. He thought he heard his daughter mumble "Daddy", which she hadn't called him in years. But, then he heard it again.
He looked down and saw a figure curled up in a ball on the floor.
"Daddy, make it stop, please," you whimpered.
He quickly flicked on the light so that he could get a better look at you.
"Y/N, baby, what's wrong?" he asked quickly when he saw your tears, your face contorted in pain, and how jagged your breathing was.
"Hurts," you whimpered as more tears fell and you clutched your stomach.
He jumped out of bed and knelt down next to you. "Your stomach?" he asked urgently. You nodded. "Can you sit up?"
You nodded and leaned against his bed. But, that was a bad idea because the minute you were upright, you puked right down yourself. You groaned and pressed down more on your stomach, which just caused you to vomit more and more.
The minute you started to vomit, Jay looked at the clock. He started to soothe you by rubbing your back, but then quickly stopped and ran into the adjoining bathroom to grab the trashcan and put it underneath your mouth instead.
"There you go, there you go," he soothed as he held the trashcan with one hand and rubbed your back with the other. "Get it out. It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here. I'm right here, Y/N."
But, when you puked for almost four minutes straight and were still in pain after, Jay knew something was seriously wrong.
"Don't get up, you'll make it worse," he said. You nodded weakly. "I'm gonna go grab you some water and Gatorade and put those and a bowl in the car. Then, we're gonna go to Med to get you checked out." You nodded again. "I'll be right back. I love you."
He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and then sprinted off into the kitchen to grab the stuff he previously mentioned. Then, he ran outside and unlocked his car, turned it on to start heating up, put that stuff in the backseat, and sprinted back inside.
"Y/N, you still awake?" he asked when he walked back into his room.
"Mhm," you hummed with your eyes still closed and your hands still clutching your stomach.
"Okay, I'm gonna throw on a hoodie and my shoes, and then I'm gonna run into your room and grab you some shoes and a hoodie because it's pretty cold out. Are you okay here?" you nodded slowly. "Okay, I'll be right back. Don't get up."
Five minutes later, you had your shoes and hoodie on. You weren't much help getting those on; your dad basically had to dress you as if you were a baby again.
"I'm gonna pick you up and bring you to the car and we're gonna go to Med to see Uncle Will."
"Uh huh," you said, letting your dad know that you had heard him. Then, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and soon felt the chill of the late November air and then the leather seats of your dad's truck on your back and the warmth of the truck.
"There's water and Gatorade. I want you to take a few sips," your dad said. "There's a bowl, too in case you have to puke again."
You drank a few sips of Gatorade and then laid back down and closed your eyes.
As your dad backed out of the driveway, he called Will to explain the situation and tell him that the two of you were on your way to Chicago Med.
After the call, he threw his phone into the passenger seat and reached his left hand into the backseat, and grabbed one of your hands. You gripped your dad's hand weakly as he drove as fast he could to Chicago Med.
He had to make sure that his little girl was okay.
***
"We've got a treatment room right here," Maggie said when she saw Jay sprinting into the ED with you in his arms.
She quickly led him to it and he laid you down in the bed.
Will rushed in with Natalie and April a few seconds later.
"Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?" Natalie asked.
"Hurts," you mumbled.
"Jay," Will started, "did she puke on the way here at all?"
"No, no, she didn't. She just puked for almost four minutes straight at home and it's worse when she sits or stands up. She's been clutching her stomach since she woke up."
"Gonna- gonna--" you started to heave and a pink basin was thrust under your mouth and then you emptied the few sips of Gatorade into the basin. You started to cry even harder once you finished. "Make it stop, make it stop! Please make it stop!"
Natalie turned to your dad. "Do we have permission to administer medications?"
"Please," he answered, his voice cracking. He was terrified. He was terrified something was seriously wrong. He had never seen you in so much pain. "You have permission. Just please help her."
April pushed antinausea and pain medications as well as a light sleeping medication because it was apparent that, along with puking and being in a world of pain, you were also utterly exhausted.
"Y/N," April started, "you're going to get sleepy soon. But, can you give us your pain level on a scale of one to ten?"
"Ten. My stomach hurts at a ten," you answered while tears still ran down your face.
"Did you eat anything you weren't used to? Drink anything?"
"No, no," you panted. "Just- just lots of coffee. Not a lot of sleep. Studying."
Will and Natalie shared a look. They knew what this could be. And, at least they got it out of you now, because it was clear that the meds were starting to work and you were fading fast.
"Hun," Natalie began, "we're gonna leave April in here with you in case you get sick again. Is it okay if me, your Uncle Will, and your dad have a chat outside real quick?"
"Want my dad. Please."
Natalie smiled sadly. "Okay, he'll stay. We can talk to him later."
Your dad reached for your hand and held it and rubbed his thumb over the top while you drifted into a medication-induced sleep.
Five minutes later, you were out.
Jay looked at his brother. "What's going on? What's wrong with my kid?"
"From what she told us, it sounds like the acid in the coffee she's been drinking has been irritating her stomach lining. Has she been drinking a lot of coffee lately?" Will asked.
"Not that I've noticed. But, sometimes there's a little less in the coffee pot than I think there should be. But, even if she is drinking two cups, that can't cause this, can it?" Jay asked worriedly.
"No, two cups shouldn't. But, if she isn't sleeping a lot, sometimes lack of sleep can make people feel pretty crappy. So, if she's drinking more than her normal amount of caffeine and not sleeping, then that could be what's causing it."
"But, she goes to bed at her normal time," Jay argued.
"That doesn't mean that she's sleeping. She could be lying awake in bed. Has she seemed more tired to you?"
"No, not that I've noticed. Uh, what do I do, Will? Can't you run some tests?"
"I mean, I can run one to see if she's sleep-deprived, it's a plasma cortisol test. If her levels are elevated, that means she's not getting enough sleep. But, it wouldn't give us the reason why her stomach's hurting so bad and why she's nauseous and vomiting," Will answered.
"Then don't run the test," Jay said. "If it's not going to figure out the problem, then I don't want to put her through that. But, what do we do?"
"If it's what I think, an irritated stomach lining, then we keep her for observation for a few days, ween her off of caffeine to a healthy amount, give her antinausea and pain medications, and just wait for her to go home until she feels better," Will answered.
"Okay. I guess we wait. You mind grabbing me some coffee?"
Will laughed because they had just been talking about how you had been possibly drinking too much coffee and now Jay was asking for it. "Yeah, I can do that. My shift ends in an hour, so I'll be down here to wait with you then."
Jay smiled. "Thanks, man."
***
It was 7:30 in the morning the next day, which was Thanksgiving Day, when Jay's phone rang, waking him up. He answered it without checking the caller ID because he didn't want to disturb your peaceful sleep.
"Hello?" he asked groggily.
"Jay? Where are you and Y/N?" he heard Hailey's voice through the phone.
Shit, the Turkey Trot, he thought.
He and you always ran the Turkey Trot every Thanksgiving, sometimes dragging Will along if he didn't have to work. Then, you'd have your Thanksgiving feast later in the day. Granted, your dad had to keep pace with you for the entire time, so it really wasn't a race. But, it was a nice bonding experience, so the two (sometimes three of you) kept it up.
Jay had mentioned it to Hailey one morning when they were running the indoor track before school started, and she said she'd sometimes run it, too. So, Jay had invited her to run it with him and you, and she agreed.
You were convinced that Miss Upton and your dad were secretly dating.
But, Miss Upton had been waiting for you and your dad at the designated meeting spot for half an hour now. And, Jay Halstead was not one to be late.
"Listen, me and Y/N aren't going to be able to make it. She had some stomach issues last night and now she's in the hospital and the doctors are trying to figure out what's wrong," Jay said.
"Oh my God," she said as she started to walk away from their planned meeting spot and towards the parking garage where she parked her car. "What hospital are you at?"
"Chicago Med," Jay answered. "Why?"
"I'm gonna find someplace that's open and grab breakfast and then I'll be there."
"Hailey, you don't have to."
"Jay, I want to do this. I'll be there within the next hour."
Then, without waiting for him to protest once more, she ended the call.
***
When you woke up a few hours later, you rubbed your eyes, despite the IV in your hand, and rolled over.
"Well good morning, or almost afternoon," your uncle Will said and stood up. "How's the pain on a scale of one to ten?"
"Uh, maybe a six, seven?" you said.
But then, you looked around the room.
Why was Miss Upton here?
"I'll go get a nurse and let you three talk," Will said and then left the treatment room.
You looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows. At the same time, the achiness in your stomach started up again and you clutched it.
"Gonna be sick?" your dad asked.
"I don't know," you answered.
He handed you the pink basin anyway (a clean one because last night's was gross and went off to get cleaned) and you set it on your lap.
"Feel like you can eat anything?" your dad asked. "Hailey brought food...and coffee, but we'll have to check with the nurses about how much coffee you can drink."
"You brought it?" you asked as you looked at Miss Upton.
She smiled. "I did. I called your dad to see why you two weren't at the Turkey Trot yet, and he said you two were here, so I figured I'd find somewhere that's open and get you breakfast." She rummaged around in the bag and pulled out a container. "He mentioned you were having stomach issues so I opted for something light, so the fruit and nut oatmeal from Mcdonald's. I also grabbed a packet of syrup in case you wanted it sweeter."
She passed the food to you along with a spoon and a napkin. "Thank you," you said as you took them from her. "Sorry I messed up your run."
Hailey laughed. "It's okay. My run's the least of my problems. Me and your dad just want you to get better."
You tried to hide your smile. She said she and your dad. She cared about you more than she did other students...and you were just waiting for them to slip up and call each other babe at this point.
"Hey, I'm back," Will announced as he walked into the room. This time, he had Dr. Choi and Monique in tow. "Natalie and April have Thanksgiving off, so you have Dr. Choi as your doctor and Monique as your nurse."
You nodded.
"Hi, Y/N, I'm Dr. Choi, as your brother just mentioned. Monique here is just going to check your vitals." You nodded again. "I understand you've been having some stomach issues. Can you tell me when they started? Any changes to your diet or routine that I should know about?"
Here goes nothing.
You looked at your dad as tears formed in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
Your dad moved his chair closer to you and gently grabbed your hand. "Tell me what, baby?"
"I- I went to that party because--"
"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to know why because I'm a teacher? Me and Miss Upton are both teachers."
"But I didn't go to drink at all! I hadn't even planned on drinking! I didn't even drink a drink!" you yelled, causing Monique to take a step back. You took a deep breath and turned to her. "Sorry, sorry. I'll be calm so you can do your job." After a few breaths, Monique went back to checking your vitals and you continued your story. "These two girls I know from my AP gov class asked me to come to the party to be their DD. So, I went. But, when I was there, I ate the fruit from the punch bowl and I forgot that the fruit absorbs the alcohol. I'm sorry."
"And when you realized what happened, you called Miss Upton?" your dad asked.
"Yeah," you confirmed. "And, I even made sure to give the car keys to one of the girl's boyfriends who wasn't drinking because he plays sports so that they'd get home safely."
Jay smiled slightly; he had taught you well.
"Did you keep drinking consistently after?" Dr. Choi asked. He couldn't see one drink causing all these problems.
"No, God no!" you said. But, then you clutched your stomach and took in a deep breath.
"Pain?" Dr. Choi asked.
"Yeah, it's not as bad as last night, though."
He looked to your dad. "If she wants more pain meds, will you allow it?"
"Yes," your dad answered.
"Do you want more pain meds?" Dr. Choi asked.
"Please," you answered.
So, Monique started to get the pain medication ready to go into your IV and then pushed the meds.
A few minutes later, once the medication had started to work, you continued your story.
"I heard you and Uncle Will talking," you said.
"When?" your dad asked. "Me and Uncle Will talk a lot."
"The night I snuck out. You and Uncle Will were talking and you said that you might make me transfer schools if my grades don't get better. I don't want to transfer schools, Dad."
Your dad sighed. "Kid, I was mad, but in reality, I wouldn't do that. That was just me being angry and trying to find a solution when I wasn't in the right headspace. Were you so nervous that your stomach hurt all the time?" he asked.
"No," you answered. "but, I started staying up later and doing homework."
"Really? You always seemed asleep to me."
"I'd sleep for an hour and then wake up and study more." Your dad sighed. "I'm sorry. And then I was just sleeping for like three hours, so I'd drink four or five cups of coffee a day and my stomach hurt so bad in the morning if I didn't drink any coffee, so I'd eat breakfast in my car before school."
"For how long?" your dad asked. "For how long have you been bottling this up? For how long have you been waiting to eat breakfast?"
"The stomach aches started a week and a half ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." You started to cry harder.
"Hey, hey it's okay. We know what happened now, so hopefully, Dr. Choi and everyone else here can fix it." He looked up at Dr. Choi who had been intently listening as well. "Right, Doc?"
Dr. Choi smiled. "That's right, Y/N. And, what it seems to me is that you've just been drinking too much coffee, and coupled with the lack of sleep, have had abdominal cramping and nausea due to all the caffeine irritating your stomach lining. So, what we'll do is ween your caffeine intake back down to one to two cups of coffee per day, not go cold turkey because you'll probably feel pretty crappy if we did that, and then continue giving you pain meds and antinausea meds. We'll probably keep you here a few days upstairs in a recovery room just for observation to make sure nothing else is going on."
"So, I have to spend my whole Thanksgiving break in the hospital?" you asked.
"I'm afraid so," he answered.
"Well, this sucks." You looked at the table next to Miss Upton. "Is that coffee for me?"
"It is. I don't know if you can have it, though," she answered.
"She can have it," Dr. Choi answered. "Just, no more after this one seeing as that's a large."
You nodded.
"I got you a vanilla iced coffee. Since apparently, we have the same taste because your dad said you also like vanilla sweet cream cold brews as much as me," Miss Upton said and then handed you the coffee.
"Seeing as everything looks good, me and Monique will check on you later." He turned to the three adults in the room. "If she pukes up that food or her stomach pain gets worse, come get us."
"Will do, Doc," your dad answered.
"Jay," Hailey started, "can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?"
Jay furrowed his eyebrows slightly but nodded. "Of course. Be right back, Y/N. I love you."
"I love you, too, Dad," you said.
Then, your dad and Miss Upton left the room.
Outside the treatment room, Hailey took a deep breath, grounding herself as she prepared to talk to Jay.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out.
"For what?" Jay asked, utterly confused.
"I knew she was drinking extra coffee but didn't tell you! Well, she told me when she brought it from home, that it would get cold too fast, so she always came to my room and had two cups during the day. If I knew she was drinking some at home, too, I would've never let her have any. I'm so, so sorry, Jay!"
"Hailey," Jay began and placed his hands on her shoulders, "it's not your fault. Hell, I didn't even notice it and she's my daughter."
"I know, but I just feel slightly responsible for her being in that hospital bed--"
"It's not your fault, Hailey. I promise. I don't blame you one bit and I know Y/N doesn't either."
Meanwhile, back in the treatment room, you really needed to use the bathroom.
"Uncle Will?" you asked, causing him to look up from his phone where he was trying to figure out what restaurants were open for dinner on Thanksgiving. He really didn't want him and his family eating hospital cafeteria food for Thanksgiving dinner.
"Hmm?" he hummed and gave you his full attention.
"I really need to go to the bathroom," you told him.
He pocketed his phone and stood up and moved over to you. "Okay, I'm gonna help you up and with one arm, I'll hold on to you and with the other, I'll hold onto the IV pole for you. Is that okay?" You nodded. "Do you think you'll need help in the bathroom? I can grab a nurse if you need me to," he offered.
"No, just help me to the bathroom, please. I should be good when I get in there."
"Okay." Then, he helped you up and the two of you made your way over to the bathroom where he stood and waited while you went inside.
Back with Hailey and Jay, Jay reassured Hailey once again that none of this was on her.
"If anything," Jay began, "I should be thanking you. You got Y/N home safe after that party."
"Jay, we've been over this. I would've done it for any one of my students," she said.
"But, would you take their dad up on their offer of buying you coffee if it wasn't my kid you picked up?" Jay asked and tilted his head to the side.
"Probably not," Hailey said, a blush rising to her cheeks.
"Can I ask why?" She stayed silent. "Listen, Hailey, it's been a long time since I've seen you as just a fellow teacher," Jay admitted.
She looked up at him. "Since we're all sharing secrets today, it's been a long time since I've seen you as a fellow teacher, too, Jay."
Jay smiled and moved a piece of her hair behind her ear. He leaned in. "Can I?" he asked.
He didn't get a response because she quickly pressed her lips against his. It was the kiss she had been waiting for since she asked him to eat lunch with her that first week of school.
You and your uncle Will had chosen that exact time to make your way back to your treatment room. You two had seen everything: your dad putting a strand of Hailey's hair behind her ear and them leaning in and kissing.
You were glad that one of your hands was free because you whacked Will across the chest in excitement.
It was finally happening!
Jay and Hailey pulled away and looked at each other and smiled.
"I uh, I hope that was okay," Hailey said quietly.
"Oh, it was more than okay. I'd happily do that again, but we should probably get back into Y/N's room. She's probably wondering what's taking us so long," Jay said.
Hailey laughed. "Probably."
The two turned around and saw you and Will standing thirty feet away. Jay's eyes widened. "Uh..." he trailed off as Hailey blushed hard.
"Finally!" you exclaimed.
"Yeah, I agree with Y/N on this one," Will laughed. "But, who would've thought? A government teacher and an English teacher?" He started to help you walk back to your treatment room but turned his head back to Jay and Hailey. "Oh, don't stop on our account."
"Will!"
A/N: hank you guys so, so, so much for reading! Again, please remember to like/reblog and comment because I love reading all your comments and seeing that you liked/reblogged because that means you enjoyed reading the imagine! Again, I am donating all my proceeds on buy me a coffee until the end of AU-gust to Save The Children to help the children in Afghanistan. Buy me a coffee here.
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Taglist: @theambracer88@virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88
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mirrorforevers · 3 years
Text
here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader
this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:
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and
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this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they
1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude
2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)
3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh
it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur
consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!
let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this
also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻
tw (?) reader has shitty parents
word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)
smut. set in the 90s. au.
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You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.
“Hello?” You answer, panting.
“Y/N?”
“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.
-
A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.
Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.
It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.
Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.
But anyway.
That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.
“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.
“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.
“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”
“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”
“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”
“Is tomorrow ok to you?”
“Sure. After our class?”
“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”
“See you.”
You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.
The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.
Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.
That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.
-
Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.
But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"
-
Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.
Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.
You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.
Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.
You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.
One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.
That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.
-
The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.
(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)
It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.
You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.
Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.
Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.
You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.
And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.
After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.
“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.
His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.
“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”
“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”
The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.
“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”
“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”
“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”
“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”
“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”
“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”
“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”
The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”
“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.
“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”
“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”
-
“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”
Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.
Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.
“What do you think?” is what you say.
“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”
You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”
“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”
Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”
Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.
They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.
“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.
“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”
“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.
“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”
That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.
“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”
“But that’s your--”
“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”
“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”
“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”
-
The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.
The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?
You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.
You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.
“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”
“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”
“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”
“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”
“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”
“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”
Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.
The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:
You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.
The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.
You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--
You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.
He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.
“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.
“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”
“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”
“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”
“Uh… the day of your audition?”
“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”
His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”
You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”
“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”
“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”
“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”
You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.
“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”
“What, exactly?”
“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.
“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”
“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”
“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”
“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”
“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.
“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”
He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”
“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”
“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”
His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.
If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.
“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”
“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”
“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”
“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”
“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.
“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”
He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”
“Huh?”
“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”
“No way.”
“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”
“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”
“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”
“I’m nothing special.”
“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”
“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”
“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”
“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”
“I know.”
Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”
“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.
“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”
You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”
-
You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.
The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.
The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.
One beep.
Two beeps.
Three beeps.
Four beeps. “Hello?”
You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”
“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.
“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”
“Do you still want to…?”
“...Desperately.”
“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”
“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”
“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”
“The basics.” You make your smile heard.
“I do have… I do have the basics.”
“See you in a few minutes then.”
“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”
“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“Alright then. See you.”
“See you.”
-
You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.
2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.
He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.
The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.
“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.
Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.
“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.
“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”
“Would you like me to go down on you?”
“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”
“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”
“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”
You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.
As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”
He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”
And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.
His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.
You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.
You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”
“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”
“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”
“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.
Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.
Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.
“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.
“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Please.”
Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”
You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?
“Absolutely.”
The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”
“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”
“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”
After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”
“As you wish.”
He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.
His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.
“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.
He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.
Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.
When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.
Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.
I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.
211 notes · View notes
vickyvicarious · 2 years
Text
Leverage Breakfast Club AU:
Brain - Hardison
ubergenius, is in detention for suspected hacking to change everyone's grades to an A in a class with a nasty teacher, but no one can actually prove it was him so they just officially busted him for like skipping class or whatever. He enjoys orchestra and computer class but is generally not very popular and most of the classes aren't super interesting to him.
Outcast - Parker
just kinda shows up places, including detention sometimes. will sketch the people in there, steal all their stuff, return some of it maybe. is basically only in school because her mentor told her she should graduate, main focus is on becoming a better thief.
Princess - Sophie
always tries out for school plays and fails miserably, but is very successful at playing the role of popular student. Not really sure what her own identity is, does things she doesn't even care about to fit in and then agonizes over it a little - but its so much easier to just be what people want and then get what she wants by making them like her, than to be genuine. In for skipping class.
Jock - Eliot
Popular, good at sports, but his family is strained (financially/parentally) and he has a lot of toxic masculinity influencing him from his dad. Constantly feels like he should be doing more, being more of a man, is ashamed of liking stuff like home ec for more than just the hot teacher, enjoying nerdy movies, etc. If he catches himself doing something that doesn't fit his dad's ideals often overcompensates in the other direction. In for bullying someone together with other members of the football team.
Rebel - Nate
....although he's mainly just the rebel in the sense that he constantly and willfully pisses off the teachers he dislikes, plus has shady family connections. He's very good in class, chess club, religious and generally kind, and considers himself definitely morally superior to these people (at first), but also can be extremely nasty if you piss him off
Principal - Dubenich
Wants to keep tight control over the school, and gets extremely pissed off when things don't go his way, but can actually be rather manipulative
Janitor - ???
I tried to think of a character who could fill that sometimes friendly but sometimes antagonistic role (but who recognizes them for who they are and demonstrates understanding/support in the end) and I was just coming up with Sterling. Which could work but he's not really a supporting character/he's do ambitious the role doesn't fully seem to fit him especially if I want him and Nate to have a significant relationship
.
Some story beats:
Sophie secretly really admires Parker for being herself so unabashedly, but also feels like she needs to help her learn to fit in for her own good. Parker doesn't fully even conceive of herself as a person so much as a tool still being molded a lot of the time, so this admiration is unexpected
Hardison/Eliot bickering that is tense between like bullying but also maybe a little bit of flirting and also maybe a respectful rivalry sort of sometimes, or recognizing they could be good friends if not for Eliot's hangups (+maybe Hardison being defensive)
Nate and Sophie have some UST built up but each are hesitant to engage with the other and tend to argue when they talk for any length of time
Eliot and Sophie travel in some of the same social circles but haven't interacted much. They're both decent at sniffing out a fake and recognize that in one another but till now its only made them want to stay away, not relate to each other
Hardison has had a big crush on Parker for a while but has no idea what to talk to her about and she hasn't really noticed him much
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smoochkooks · 3 years
Text
—lost stars, part 2 (m.)
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⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader
⟶ genre: smut, angst, bits of fluff, (troubled) idol au, childhood friends to lovers
⟶ word count: 20k
⟶ summary: in dead hours of the night he stumbles upon the bars, reaching, searching, trying to feel something, for once forget about consequences and taste the bittersweet freedom. between sips of addiction and faint touches of nameless lovers he finds you again: his own long-lost star on a blackboard sky.
⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, soft dom!jk but also bit possessive!jk, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), praise kink, jk calling oc his pretty girl, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos!), creampie, implicit car sex, mentions of infidelity, smoking, both oc and jk are emotional mess sometimes.
✔ read part one here!
a/n: i’m sorry i keep you waiting for so long but it’s finally here. as i promised, by the end of october. this story has a really special place in my heart, i’ve had it in my drafts for over a year now. i hope you’ll enjoy it!
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Twenty-two. No, twenty-three. Or maybe it was actually twenty-two? Jungkook starts counting again.  
Various, different certificates are aligned on the wall in front of him, every single one dedicated to the same man, sitting across the table with crossed arms and stern expression. It’s rather obvious his ego reaches far beyond the printed sheets of paper with his name written in swirly fonts. They are here just to make an impression, to fool people into believing that the pastel blue shirt he’s wearing and expensive watch on his wrist are the outcome of his hard work.  
He opens his mouth to say something, but it doesn’t reach Jungkook’s ears. He starts counting again; this time the number of letters on the first certificate.
“What do you suggest we should do then?”
The man whose achievements in marketing and public relations Jungkook currently attentively analyzes, is Lee Ilsug, or at least that’s what those diplomas indicate. To be honest, Jungkook couldn’t care less about his name or the list of accomplishments that made him be employed here.
He’s new in the company, that’s certain. Jungkook didn’t have to deal with him before but Yoongi had the unpleasantness though, when he needed to deny the rumours going all around the Twitter about his slightly too close friendship with a female singer he had collaborated with.  
Quoting Yoongi, Ilsung was pain in the ass. 
“The photo is blurry. It’s debatable whether it’s Jungkook-ssi or not.” Another voice, this time female, cuts in. Jungkook remembers her face fleetingly from some PR meeting he had attended before. It looks like she’s now Ilsung’s assistant. “I checked SNS. Fans are on Jungkook’s side, they don’t believe what that girl had written, which is a good situation for us to interfere and release a statement.”
“What do you think, Jungkook?”
It’s Sejin. He was the one who contacted Jungkook about the ruckus in the company that has been going on since morning. The case is simple: on the day he did his walk of shame out of your apartment, he stopped to light up a cigarette that happened to be another one of his cardinal mistakes he’s made in span of 24 hours. What started with getting the temptation and alcohol got better of him and sleeping with you, ended with someone taking a picture of him while smoking.
It’s truly a miracle the photo’s quality is moderately vague. His mom always tells him he was born under the lucky star but for Jungkook it’s more like fate was playing hide and seek with him. This time, he managed to blend into the shadows in time.
Ilsung clicks his tongue. It’s not a secret he hates his job yet cherishes the money he earns. He pushes his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and leans over the table. He’s close enough for Jungkook to notice the fresh cut from shaving on his cheek and a small, golden cross hanging on his neck. 
He raises his brow, eyes trained on Jungkook. Cold, emotionless. Clearly, his ambitions don’t end on dealing with some idol’s reckless shenanigans. “Well? What’s on your mind, Jungkook-ssi? We are ready to release the statement denying rumours about the incident in an hour.”
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. “But that will be a lie then. I did smoke, it’s me on that picture.”
Next to him, he hears Sejin clearing his throat uncomfortably. “Jungkook, I know it’s unfair but we can’t let it affect yours or boys’ reputations right now. We are a month before the comeback.” he says and no matter how much he tries to make it sound neutral, pulling the ‘what about the rest of the members?’ card is usually the last straw to bend Jungkook.
Jungkook releases a long sigh at that. He feels unworthy. He let down his brothers again, made them worry about him countless times before and that’s what he offeres in return: disappointment. He cannot risk his bandmates’ good name because of his incautious behavior. They sacrificed too much to be where they are now to lose it over a silly scandal.  
“Do what’s best for the team.” he decides after a while.
Once he’s out of the office, his thoughts drift instinctively to you. Do you already know about the mess he created? Do you even search through social media, looking for the updates about him? No, you wouldn’t go there, he tells himself. He’s almost sure. He hopes those revelations won’t ever reach you.
Sejin breaks his chain of thoughts, stepping into the elevator after him. “What were you even doing in that part of the city so early?” he asks, staring at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror.
“Does it really matter?”
Sejin’s features soften a little. He’s been with them practically since the beginning. Seen their best and worst, always by their side even when the whole world seemed to be against them. Piggybacking Jungkook out of the practice room because he complained about his feet being sore, joking behind the stage about trivial things when no cameras where around. They trusted him. And he’s never stopped believing in them.
“I told you that million times before. You are allowed to lead your life the way you want, Jungkook. I know how you feel, but as a public figure you have to be extremely careful, first and foremost. People don’t forget, nothing ever disappears from the Internet,” he says, or rather repeats the same mantra he’s been telling them since they broke into the mainstream and started being overly recognizable. “I am here to protect you but I won’t be able to do that if you don’t take care of yourself first.”
He places a strong hold on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes reassuringly. Jungkook releases a sigh and the door slides open behind them. “Thank you, hyung.”
“Always, Jungkook-ah. I’m feeling like a father of rebel teenager now.” Sejin laughs lightly to clear the heavy atmosphere, making Jungkook snort.  
“Hey, I’m twenty-two!”
Sejin ruffles Jungkook’s hair, ignoring younger’s grumbling protests. The walk into the spacious parking lot of the company and Jungkook suddenly stops in his tracks.  
“Does Bang already know about this?“ he asks matter-of-factly, although he’s sure what the answer will be. The confirmation he needs comes with a nod from Sejin. “Is he pissed?” he adds then.
Sejin raises his brows, looking down at him. “His golden boy let him down, what do you think? He might not be mad but he’s sure as hell disappointed.” He gestures to his car and Jungkook follows him without a word, imagining his boss’ sour expression next time he sees him. In Bang’s self-made ranking he’s sitting at last place right now probably.  
“Want to grab a proper breakfast with me? I’ve been called into the company while I was in bed. I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.” Sejin offers, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.
“Okay.” Jungkook says, hopping in Sejin’s car. “You’re buying?” he asks, mustering a snickering smile even though he’s definitely not in the mood for joking.
Sejin rolls his eyes, fastening his seatbelt. “Don’t you think you own it to me for saving your ass once again?”
“But I’m your rebel teenager kid, remember?” Jungkook pouts. When he sees Sejin hesitating, he opts for another strategy. The one that never fails. “Rock-paper-scissors?”
“Deal.” 
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Tonight, Jungkook pulls up in front of the club you’re working in with his car. It’s Friday night and he recalls you saying you work here every two weeks. He counted the days three times. There’s no way he made a mistake. He’s sober. And he has no intentions of getting drunk.  
You’re surprised when you see him. You haven’t spoken a word for a whole week since he walked out of your apartment. He seems happier when he approaches you, flashing a bunny-toothed smile like nothing ever happened. Maybe he’s good at pretending. That’s exactly what you told him to do - act like the night he stripped you bare and fucked you silly was merely a mirage.
In a way, you’re relieved he makes everything seem ordinary, even though it’s anything but normal.
He waits for you to finish your shift. Tells you he drove here with his car and your eyes involuntarily widen. When you’re standing in front of his black Mercedes Benz, you can’t help but gawk.  
“I don’t even want to know how much money this cost.” You take in the all-polished, black glory of his car, muttering “Holy shit” under your breath.
Jungkook chuckles to himself, gesturing for you to get in. You do it without a word, making yourself comfortable on the leather seat. If he manages not to make things awkward, you can do it to, acting as though he isn’t a well-known persona in your country with an addiction for unhealthy lifestyle.
He starts the engine and drives in the direction of your neighborhood, humming to himself the tune playing in radio. It’s awfully domestic, the way he navigates through the streets like he knows them like the back of his hand although you’re aware he’s glancing at his phone once in a while to check the directions. You catch yourself watching him from the corner of your eye with curiosity, biting your lip to suppress the urge to ask him million questions at a minute. Instead, you let him do whatever he has in mind. You can’t ruin this, you remind yourself.
Later that night, you’re sitting in his car in the darkness, parked on the rundown parking lot where no one’s standing expect for you. The only source of light is coming from the single street lamp nearby, illuminating delicately Jungkook’s features in dim, yellowish lighting.  
He doesn’t say much. He fumbles with the hem of his jacket almost absentmindedly and you know him well enough to sense there’s something plugging his thoughts. You call his name and he turns his head to the side. It’s too dark for you to spot the tiredness on his beautiful face, too dark to read from his eyes and find all the needed answers in them.
“Is everything alright?” you ask and it sounds awfully loud in a small space of his car. Despite the silent promise you made to yourself about keeping things between you civil, you can’t help but interfere.
Jungkook then whirls on his seat so he can face you fully, flashing you a smile meant to throw all your former worries away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to sit with you for a while like that, if you don’t mind.”  
If anything, it doesn’t cure your concerns but you shove it to the back of your head for now. Nodding at his words, you fall into the distressing silence. The street lamp nearby goes out and if it wasn’t for the digital dashboard in Jungkook’s car, you would have been surrounded by darkness completely.  
Jungkook chuckles under his breath and you follow suit. The sudden change in the atmosphere should be taken as a sign to abandon this damned parking lot and go somewhere else, but he looks like he has other plans in mind. Hearing the soft whisper of your name, you start feeling like it all was meant to happen. Him appearing in front of the club, the lights going out and enabling you to read the true emotions from your faces – it’s all like fate is again playing tricks with you.  
You don’t know who moves first, crossing the invisible oceans between you and reaching homeland, but the next thing you feel is his lips on yours.
He tastes like the non-alcoholic beverage he drunk earlier, mixed with faint bitterness of his beloved cigarettes and something akin to mint, yet you’re drowning in it, in him, in the warmth of his breath on your wet lips.
You feel the world spiraling in front of your eyes, despite your soberity. You’re moving automatically; leaning into his touch and accepting the kiss with raw passion, welcoming his tongue in your mouth willingly. It should be alarming how good it feels to have him like this, in your arms, teeth scrapping your neck until you’re writhing in your seat. Breathless, he takes the hint, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his lap.  
It feels dangerously familiar. You know what’s going to happen next, when he unzips your jacket and places his hands underneath your sweater, relishing in the way you shiver at the coldness of his touch. When he sinks his teeth in your neck and withdraws seconds before leaving a blossoming mark. Yet you make no vow to stop him.  
From this exact moment, it’s just a blur of hushed whispers, broken moans and quick caresses that leave you yearning for more. Jungkook acts like he knows your body inside and out, thrusting his fingers knuckle-deep into your heat until you’re keening and begging him for more. And he gives it to you with earnest, coaxing you into an orgasm with one last, final flick of his thumb on your sensitive bud.
Jungkook groans when you palm his bulge through the material of his pants, but he’s too desperate to feel your wetness around him to let you tease him any longer. When you sink down onto him, all of your rational thoughts fly away with the breathy moan you let out in unison with his choked gasp.
It’s fast and ragged, chasing the high that it’s both forbidden yet so craved. And it hurts, when tears well in your eyes, when you’re at the brick of pleasure and you know there’s no way in the world you’re going to experience a desire so raw and overwhelming with anyone, ever again. It hurts when Jungkook picks up the pace and fucks into you with ferocity and anger, because the world is unfair and he’s a slave in the system in which freedom means fucking you dirty in his car when it’s dark out.
And he hates it, hates it so much when you unveil in front of him, whimpering his name hoarsely and tightening around his cock deliciously. He swallows every sound you make with his mouth, clenching his teeth because the pleasure is right there, but he needs an extra push to throw himself over the edge. It’s his name on your lips and the whimper of “Inside, please” that finally makes him snap.
Then, there’s only guilt and laboured breaths. In his self-made list of mistakes, you’re aiming for the top.
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Grocery shopping has never been your favourite thing to do.
You would never quite enjoy doing it, not due to the constant anxiety of forgetting about buying something even if you make a list of products beforehand, not when you don’t have enough money to buy a little extra than needed (thanks to the dear capitalistic world we live in).  
Right now, you’re standing in the middle of an aisle with cereal, trying to look as much casual as possible so people passing by wouldn’t suspect you to be a wanna-be thief. The cause of your distress sits at the very top shelf and there’s no way in hell you’ll manage to snatch that Reese’s Puffs without knocking everything over.  
Defeated, you raise your hand to take your second option (good, old Corn Flakes), but a familiar voice coming from the right stops you in tracks.
“Need some help?”  
Twirling on your feet, you’re now standing face to face with Kihyun – Minho’s friend from work. Smiling sheepishly, you nod. “I do, actually. Can you pass me these ones, please?”  
You feel stupid asking that but fortunately, Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. You talked to him briefly a few times before thanks to Minho, who took his friendship with him as far as to go on a double date together.  
“So, how are you?” Kihyun asks, placing the cereal box in your cart.
“I’m good, thanks. I assume you’ve been also doing well,” He raises his eyebrows at that and you clarify, “Minho told me you got promoted lately. Congrats, chief Yoo.”
“Ah, yeah, thank you,” There’s a tiny bit of pink covering the apples of his cheeks when he waves his hand dismissively at your comment. “But it’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m sure working in a homicide department is a big deal,” you say. “And I heard it requires some extra shooting training as well.” you add, alluding to what Minho has told you the day you read the message on his phone from someone named Soyeon.
To your surprise, Kihyun furrows his brows in a manner that could only mean he’s confused. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”  
Hiding your astonishment with a light laugh, you explain, “Don’t you go to the shooting range with Minho after work? He told me so a while ago.”  
Something akin to realization crosses Kihyun’s face. He shakes his head. “Yeah, we went there together once or twice but recently he’s training there our new recruit, Soyeon.”  
His words punch you right in the guts. Minho lied to you. He wouldn’t come up with that shitty excuse if he didn’t have something dirtier to hide, right? Maybe you’re exaggerating, but he certainly hasn’t been truly honest with you for a while now. It must be a reason behind his strange behavior.
“Are you okay?”  
For a moment you’ve forgotten you’re in the middle of the grocery store with your boyfriend’s friend. Shaking yourself off your unpleasant thoughts, you send Kihyun an apologetic smile.  
“I’m sorry. I just remembered I need to go to the pharmacist’s and they’re closing soon so I gotta hurry now.” you lie. He doesn’t look like he entirely bought your story but nevertheless, he bids you goodbye.  
You leave the store with half-empty shopping bag, raging headache and a torn heart.
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They say silence can speak more than any exchanged words.  
It hovers in the air, heavy and overwhelming, a tension primed to snap at any moment yet it has never happened before. There’s always quiet, no hushed sentences, half-lies or stuttered confessions leaving quivering lips.  
Sometimes you wonder when will you have enough. When will you be able to resist, to say you’re hurting so bad it aches right in your heart, like there are tons of bricks lying on your chest, suppressing your breathing. And maybe this is the night.  
A few unread messages on your phone, next one popping up and the screen lights up. 
[1:23pm] jungkook:
i need you  
It pains, a dull ache and suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room.   [1:24pm] jungkook:
please  
He never begs. It doesn’t suit him. There is too much pride and power inside him to crawl in front of you, to fall to his knees and plead. Yet, you falter, shaking fingertips typing a quick response. When brain screams fuck you, you don’t deserve me, a sight of him makes all the rational thoughts go to hell.  
He stands in your door, slender body leaning against the frame. You haven’t seen him for a while, a week or maybe two. His skin is pale, sheer and delicate you worry it might break if you trail your fingers over it. There are bangs under his bloodshot eyes and you know he had trouble sleeping again. It hurts seeing him like this, beautiful and broken but you’ve always loved picking up the damaged pieces.
He smiles, a lopsided smirk you know oh so well, a dark amusement because here you are, pliant under his gaze, vulnerable under his every command.  
“Hello, doll.”  
It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you grimace. Nickname he uses only when you’re stripped bare for his liking, bend to his will. It means he’s been drinking. Probably the expensive whiskey you hate the taste of so much when it lingers bitterly on your tongue after each swipe of his mouth against yours. “Will you let me in?” he then asks although he already knows the answer.
It’s cruel of him how he uses your weakness. You hate seeing him like this, hate when he’s thrown apart and you’re the only one who knows how to fix him. That’s why you move away from the door in a silent invitation, biting your lip when you see his slouching posture and unsteady walk.  
It hurts when you help him sit on your bed and he smiles at you lazily, in all his beautiful yet broken glory. You almost don’t recognize him. It’s not your Jungkook. Your Jungkook would never drown his misery in alcohol, he would never sit in your room barely conscious, smelling of cheap bars and cigarettes.  
But you accept your fate the way it is.  
“I need to sober you up a little. I’ll go get you a glass of water, okay?” He hums in response, although you’re worried it might have not reach his ears at all.  
Jungkook looks up when your back, accepting the water and drinking it with eagerness. “You’re too good to me, you know that right?” he slurs a little once he’s done. “I don’t deserve you.” he adds after a moment, cupping your cheek with his unoccupied palm.  
You squeeze your eyes shut because you fear you might break down in front of him if you look him in the eyes. He strokes your skin, murming “I’m so sorry” all over again.  
You stay like that for a few beats of silence, breathing in each other’s presences until you hear Jungkook’s phone buzzing in the pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, you see ‘Jimin-hyung’ written on the screen. “Your friends are worried about you.” you murmur, nudging his side.
“Tell them to go to hell.” You hear him muttering under his breath. Sighing, you decide to exit the room and answer the call.  
“Jungkook? Where the fuck are you?!” Jimin’s angered, thick with Busan dialect voice rings in your ears, making you flinch. “You should’ve at least answer my text once so I would know you’re okay!”  
Mustering the courage, you take a deep breath and say, “Hi, it’s Y/N speaking. Jungkook’s friend.”  
There’s a pause on the other side, until your hear Jimin clearing his throat. “Oh, hi. Is Jungkook maybe with you?” he asks and you smile to yourself involuntarily noticing how his voice has changed once he realised he’s not speaking to his friend.  
“He is. Drunk, but in one piece.” you reply, sparing a glance at aforementioned Jungkook who’s now slumped down on your bed, probably fast asleep.
Jimin sighs with relief. “That’s good then. You know, we got into a little fight today and he suddenly disappeared without a trace, and we are right before the comeback so–”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you interrupt his rushed rambling. “I’ll take care of him.”  
“Thank you, Y/N-ssi. It means a lot.”  
‘’I’ve been taking care of his ass practically since we were kids, so it’s not a big deal for me,” you chuckle lightly, even though you’re definetely not in the mood for jokes. “Well, maybe not in that way but still.”  
“I know. He told me about you.”  
Your eyes widen. “He did?” you ask, failing to hide the surprised tone of your voice.  
“Yeah, he did. When he first told us he met his childhood friend accidentally in the club he got drunk in, we didn’t believe him at first. But then he slowly started opening up more about you and even showed me some picture of you and him when you were kids.” Jimin says. “You know, Jungkook hasn’t been himself for quite a while. He kept pushing us away but ever since he met you, he’s started smiling again. Please, promise me you’ll never hurt him.”  
You release a shaky breath. “I promise.”  
It’s easy to promise such thing. Because you’re for sure going to end up being hurt first.
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It’s your alarm that wakes you up the next morning.
The sight of Jungkook is long gone, the only proof he’s been here in your bed last night is an empty glass on your bedside table and a small note written on the napkin.  
Thank you for everything. I really don’t deserve you.  
Jungkook.
Sheets have gone already cold underneath your fingertips where he laid beside you just hours ago. You didn’t get much sleep the night, watching his beautiful, pale features illuminated by the moonlight slipping through your window. He looked so peaceful with his chapped lips slightly parted and in that moment, you couldn’t think of any reason to hate him and what he’s doing to you.
Later, when you’re finally out of uni, you come home and take a quick shower. It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays are reserved for your small dates with Minho. The guilt you’re feeling while getting dressed and fixing your makeup is eating you from the inside. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you almost don’t recognize the shallow of a girl you’re seeing.  
You are not a bad person, you keep reminding yourself, then why did you sleep with him that night? Let him crawl into your bed again and again after?
Minho waits for you outside in his car. He’s taking you to a new Thai restaurant and you manage to hide the frown on your face, because your dear boyfriend forgot you don’t like this type of food.  
“You look pretty tonight, babe,” he says once you’re inside, waiting for your orders. You smile at him briefly. “It’s really been a while since we went out together, hasn’t it?”  
At that, you nod curtly. It’s true, you haven’t seen each other last week at all. Minho ditched your usual Wednesday date in favor of staying at work for something important. It happened second or third time this month. You feel like you don’t have right to be mad at him. If anything, that’s what you deserve for lying to him behind his back.
The rest of the evening goes smoothly. Your food arrives, you act like you don’t feel nauseous chewing on your pad thai and trying to break out the taste with red wine. Minho babbles about the new Netflix series he’s started watching and you’re pretending to be intrested. Wednesday date at its finest.
Then, when you’re about to pour yourself another glass of wine, Minho stops you with his hand on yours. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something,”  You fight an urge to roll your eyes. He wants to discuss serious matters? What a change. “We’ve been together for eight months. My parents keep asking about you.”  
“Oh,” you blurt out. To hide your anxiety, you force out a breathy laugh. “So, what about them?” you ask, however you already know what the answer is going to be.  
“I thought we could visit them soon in Daegu over some weekend when you don’t have work,” he proposes, squeezing your hand as if to calm your nerves. It’s not doing much to put you at ease. “My mom has already started making plans what food she should make. They’re really excited to meet you.”  
You feign a smile. It should be a natural progression for couples to take things at a time, step by step but you can’t help but feel uneasy. Minho wants his parents to meet you, the girl who lets a certain raven-haired boy play with her heart and mess with her head. In a sick game where both parties are out of reach, you’re terribly losing.
“I’d love to meet your parents.” you say finally, almost breathless.  
“You don’t look very excited.” Minho comments with a smirk and you know he’s joking but the lump in your throat only grows.  
You smile meekly. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. What if they won’t like me?”  
“I’m sure they’re gonna love you. You don’t have anything to worry about.” he dismisses your concerns, reaching for the wine bottle to pour himself a glass. “I’ve got one more thing to tell you. I know it’s a lot for one evening but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for weeks now so since we have this opportunity now, I’m gonna use it.”  
Color drains from your face. What else is there to converse about all of a sudden? Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him a sign to continue.
“I’ll go straight to the point. I want you to move in with me,” The bomb explodes and you nearly drop your wine glass to the floor. “I know it might be a lot for your but I really, really want to see you every day in my bed. My apartment is big enough for both of us but once I get the promotion my boss talked to me about last week, we can look for something fancier.”  
You stare at him blankly. First his parents, now this? Minho from the beginning of your relationship was the one who liked to take things slowly. He didn’t kiss you until your third date, he waited unnecessary amount of time to have sex even though you told him over and over again you were more than ready to do it with him.
The sudden rush feels weird. As if sensing your discomfort, Minho clears his throat and asks, “Don’t you want to move in with me?”  
You notice the subtle change in his voice, the way he’s not as enthusiastic as he was a minute ago but you shove it to the back of your head. “I’m surprised,” you respond neutraly. “And of course I don’t mind living with you. I just thought you wanted to take things slow.”  
Minho clicks his tongue. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m not asking you to marry me, Y/N,” he chuckles but you don’t mirror the sentiment. “I think it would be more comfortable for you to live with me than your current cubby-hole.”  
He’s already irritated by your reaction and you know it’s better not to poke the bear but those three glasses of wine down your throat give you enough courage to disagree. “Your place is further from my university and work. Not to mention I have a five minutes long walk to the underground now and it would take longer for me to get there in your area.” you point out.
“You can get a driving license then finally.”  
You frown. “What do you mean ‘finally’? You know damn well I can’t afford it now with the job I have and student loan. We talked about it before.”  
Minho is aware that with your current financial situation you’re barely making ends meet and you can’t let yourself have another, bigger expenses. But you’re fine on your own, you don’t mind living where you do because that’s the result of your independence. You showed your parents you are able to study and work without their extra help. You’re proud of yourself for that.
“Now you’re literally making excuses. Just say you don’t want to move in.”  
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you try to reason. “I’m not ready for such a big step yet. I need more time to think about it.”  
Minho snorts, rolling his eyes. “What else is there to think about? Either you say yes or no!” His raised tone catches attention from the family sitting nearby and they send curious glances in your direction.
“Stop being so loud, please. We are in a restaurant for God’s sake.” you whisper-shout.  
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” he snorts, obnoxious and annoyingly snarky.
You stay quiet for a moment, debating whether you should give up entirely and hang a white flag or wait for the atmosphere to clear on its own. But you’re so, so tired. Tired of being lied to. Tired of always having to choose your words carefully and bending to his will.  
“You know, I met Kihyun the other day at grocery store,” Minho doesn’t seem much interested in your inquiry, still deeply frustrated with your tantrum. He simply hums, unfazed. “I congratulated him on his promotion. He for sure needs to visist shooting range more now, doesn’t he?”  
Minho arches his brow. “Yeah, I told you he goes there with me and that new recruit.”  
It’s ironic, how easily he can lie to you straight in the eye. But you’re strong enough now to fight back.  “That’s interesting actually, because Kihyun said something totally different.” you say languidly, watching your boyfriend narrowing his eyes.
“And what is that?”  
“He said you’re going there only with your new recruit, Soyeon. The one sending you messages on your private phone.”  
Minho gapes at you for a few short seconds and then, bursts into laughter. “What are you trying to insinuate here, honey?” he asks.  
The petname sounds mocking this time. Ignoring his lighthearted approach to the situation, you dodge a bullet. “I’m not insinuating anything yet. I just pointed out that you lied to me.”  
“Lied? That’s bullishit. I would never lie to you.”  
“But you did, Minho. The day I asked you who Soyeon was after reading the message on your phone. You said you’re visiting shooting range with her and Kihyun after work sometimes. Turns out it’s just you and her after all. Isn’t that a lie?” you press.  
Minho doesn’t like being backed into the corner. When you confronted him first, he thought he had everything under control. Now, he’s losing it and he isn’t used to being that helpless.
“So what? Maybe I told you that so you wouldn’t freak out and think I’m cheating on you. Because that’s all it is about, right? You think I’m fucking someone behind your back.” he snaps, making you wince.  
“I didn’t say that.” you counter but there’s no use for that. You stepped into the lion’s den.  
He aprubtly stands up from his chair and the cutlery on your table clutters. “You know what? I’m done. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit anymore.” He withdraws his wallet from the pocket of his jacket and throws a few bills onto the table.  
A bitter chuckle escapes your lips. “Your’e leaving? Just like that?”  
“Yeah. Are you going with me or not?”  
You shrug your shoulders. “I guess someone has to finish this bottle. It would be a shame to waste such expensive wine.” you say, mustering a sarcastic smile.
Minho doesn’t utter anything more to you. He nods and exits the restaurant, leaving you sitting by the table alone. Despite the stares, hushed whispers and an urge to run away and hide from the audience, you stay a little longer and drink up that damned bottle of wine until there’s no droplets left inside.  
Once you’re outside, you inhale greedily the fresh air. Your head spins a little and you’re debating whether to take an Uber home or just walk thirty minutes on your own to sober up a little. You choose the latter.  
You don’t know what makes you dial his number. You’ve never done that before. He was the one calling you in the middle of the name and begging without words to tend his wounds. Tables have turned, and here you are.  
You call once, twice. After the fifth attempt you give up, showing your phone into the pocket of your coat. As the first tear rolls down your cheek, you realise he would never be there to pick up your pieces.
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Three missed calls from: Jungkook
[11:11pm] jungkook:
I’m so sorry y/n. I couldn’t pick up the phone cause we had late practice  
Please call me back. I’m worried
Two missed calls from: Jungkook
[11:36pm] jungkook:  
At least text me if you’re okay
Please  
[11:39pm] me:
I’m fine
[11:39pm] jungkook:  
Thank God
You sure you don’t wanna talk?
[11:41pm] me:
Maybe next time
[11:41pm] jungkook:
Okay  
Night, miss grumpy  
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You’re sitting in your favourite cafeteria, typing furiously on your laptop the last paragraph in your assignment. Your philosophy proffesor has been a bitch lately, telling you to write essays about the most uninteresting stuff she could possibly think of. And here you are, writing about Hegel’s triads, reminding yourself the semester soon will be over and so will be your mandatory philosophy classes.
Taking a moment to sip on a caramel macchiato you ordered, you notice a message popping up on your lockscreen.  
[10:45am] jungkook:  
Do you have time now?  
I need to tell you sth  
It’s been two days since your date with Minho. You’re still mentally flogging yourself for calling Jungkook that night repulsively because of your tipsiness. In that exact moment, he was the only person on your mind you could talk to. Once the fresh air cooled down your emotions, you realised how stupid your idea was. 
With slight resistance (and raced heartbeat), you type a response. 
[10:46am] me:  
I guess  
[10:46am] jungkook:  
Great. I’m gonna call you now
Eyes widening, you stare at your phone. What is so important that he cannot just text you instead? Not even a minute later, you hear buzzing. Exhaling shakily, you answer it.  
“Hi, Miss Grumpy,” Jungkook says and you could tell by the tone of his voice he’s in a good mood. He sounds like the old Jungkook you know well. It’s a pleasant surprise. “What’s up?”  
“You called me to ask how am I doing?”  
Jungkook chuckles and something inside you flutters hearing that. “And what if I did?”  
Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Let’s just say it’s unusual of you. Shouldn’t you be at some dance practice right now?” you ask.
“We just ended a company meeting. And this is exactly the reason why I’m calling you.”  
“Should I be scared?”  
”Not at all. I’m gonna move straight to the point,” he says and your pulse involuntarily quickens. “Are you free next weekend?”  
You bite your lip. There’s a part of you that wants so bad to counter with “What? Do you need a booty call?” but you don’t let your facade break that easily. Instead, you tell the truth. “Yeah, I am.”  
“Would you like to go with me to Busan then?”  
You nearly spill the coffee onto your laptop. “Oh.” You can’t quite hide the surprise in your voice. You would never expect him to propose you such thing, yet here you are.
It’s been a while since you were home. Not like you don’t want to see your parents, it’s actually the opposite. The reason you haven’t been in Busan for months is simple: you don’t have extra cash on the side to afford a two-way train ticket.  
Sensing your bewilderment, Jungkook takes your silence as a sign to explain further his sudden proposition. “Our company gave us few days off to relax before final comeback preparations so I decided I could go home,” It’s what he says and unsure of what to answer with, you only hum in response. “You told me some time ago you haven’t seen your parents since Christmas so I thought you might accompany me.”  
Something squeezes in your chest hearing that. You fail to hide the smile creeping on your features and despite the many obstacles that should be a warning sign for you to say no, you find yourself reminiscing in the idea of spending a weekend at home with Jungkook. Just like old times.  
“Okay. I agree.”  
Upon hearing your response, Jungkook breathes out a sigh of relief to the phone. “I thought you would ditch me.”  
“Excuse me? Who do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to eat my mum’s bulgogi.”  
You can’t ignore how you’re feeling, cheeks flushed and a silly smile stretching on your lips. But there’s still that bugging thought present at the back of your head, reminding you of your illicit affair and every mistake you’ve made so far. Maybe agreeing to a small trip down childhood memory lane is one of them.  
Right now, sitting in a cafeteria and talking on the phone with Jungkook about the details and your mum’s cooking skills, you pretend like you’ve turned back the time and everything else is a mere drawback to deal with later.
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“I can’t believe I agreed to do that.”  
That, is a blatant lie. You know damn well why you’re standing on the pavement in front of the building you live in as Jungkook pulls up with his high-priced, straight-from-the-salon black Mercedes. Something ignites in your lower stomach at the mere memory of what you’ve done there inside last time.
When he exits the car, you disregard as best as you can the aloof feeling in your chest, seeing him adjusting his bucket hat further down. This is the life he’s living, you remind yourself. If he wants to minimize the risk of people with preying eyes recognizing him.
Dressed in all black, he comes up to you and lifts his head up. That’s when you see him fully for the first time since he stumbled through your drunk and barely conscious. He smiles widely approaching you, not an ounce of uncertainty in his movements when he wraps his arms around you in a bear hug.  
“What’s that for?” you mumble.
“Just missed you.”  
He smells like the flowery fabric softener you know he likes. It almost lulls you into paying no mind to the thumping of your heart against your ribcage and redness blossoming on your cheeks.  
It almost makes you forget he’s not yours, and you will never be his.  
You’re the first one to withdraw, stepping away. “You’re such a sap.” It’s the first thing that comes to your mind to say after such intimate moment  – twist it into something without depth and meaning you’re so afraid of facing.
He shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just happy we’re going to spend some time together with our families.”  
You know he is. Jungkook has always been a family person. Moving out at a ripe age of fourteen paradoxically strengthened the bond he has with his parents and brother.  
He picks up your bag from the ground and throws it into the trunk next to his. Getting into the car, you mutter, “You know, I tweet ‘eat the rich’ every two days but you are safe from my hatred for high class as long as you drive my ass with this expensive car to Busan.”
Jungkook chuckles, starting the engine. “Thanks for your kindness, love. Good to know I’m pardoned.”  
“Jokes aside, I mean it though. I might want Jeff Bezos to rot in hell but at the same time I think you deserve that money because I know you worked hard to achieve it.” you say, buckling your seatbelt.  
He spares you a quick glance and arches his eyebrow. “I didn’t know you are actually a fellow comrade Y/N, Miss Grumpy.”  
“Oh, boy. Follow me on my private account. You’ll see then how radical I can get.”  
You earn another laugh from him and you find yourself getting more and more comfortable in the situation, sitting in his car and venturing onto a weekend trip to your hometown. The perspective of spending a couple of hours with Jungkook in the same car doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it did the whole week before.
Tapping the unknown rhythm on your thighs, you reach to press what you think might be the radio button. Your aren’t good with modern technology, so you smile triumphantly to yourself, hearing the first tunes blasting from the speakers. 
The slow pop-ballad ends and radio host announces next song as ‘fan favorite’. You look out of the window for a short while just to be brought back to the reality by the sound playing in the background. You know this song more than well.
“No. We are not listening to this.” Jungkook reaches to change the radio station with a speed of light, but you swat his hand away.  
“Jesus christ, stop being so dramatic. I love Blood Sweat and Tears! It’s a masterpiece.” you protest.
“I thought you don’t listen to our songs.”
You gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Excuse me? I’ve been to your concert twice, dumbass. And I’m saving up money for another.”  
That, is true. You like listening to BTS not because of Jungkook (though he might one of the reasons you fancy them) but it’s their music and message in general. Now, since they’re over their badboy phases and objectifying women in every ‘love song’, you’re fond of them even more.
You start humming Namjoon’s part when Jungkook cuts in. “Okay, then. Who’s your bias?” he asks.  
You don’t miss the way he seems to grip the steering wheel tighter. Of course he would be that petty to ask you this. To entertain yourself a little, you quip, “Take a wild guess.”  
“It has to be Jimin-hyung.” he says right away.
You shake your head. “Boo. Try again.”  
“Namjoon-hyung. You bit your lip when he started rapping his part.”  
“That’s bullshit. Namjoon’s hot but not my type. And you should keep your eyes on the road, buddy.” Placing your fingers on his chin, you turn his head away.
Jungkook sighs. “Who is it then?”  
“Taehyung.”  
Hearing your response, he snorts. “I should’ve known that.”
“And why is that?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement.
“Because he’s the most good looking from us all. He dresses stylishly,” You could tell by the tongue in his cheek you’re irking him right now. Adding to the irony, Taehyung’s part in the song comes blasting from the speakers. “He has a nice, deep voice.” Jungkook adds and before he can name another positive trait of his friend, you chime in.  
“Is somebody jealous?”  
Though you’re clearly making fun of him, he decides to chuckle like he doesn’t give a fuck anyway. “Jealous? Of Tae? Please. I have no reason to be.”  
Smirking to yourself, you find his demeanor too entertaining. “That’s good then. Because I think you’re handsome too. And I love your voice when you sing.” you say, turning your head to the side to observe his reaction.  
No matter how much he tries to hide it, clenching his jaw and giving you an eye roll, there’s no use for that. The blush covering his cheeks gives him anyway. His agony ends with one last beat of the song.  
Hiding a yawn behind your palm, you lean back onto your seat. Last night you didn’t get as much as you’d like to and your four hours long drive to Busan seems like a great opportunity for a compensatory nap.  
Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you remember is Jungkook’s hands on the steering wheel and his soft voice humming the song playing in the radio.
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“Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up. We’re almost there.”  
Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with familiar-looking streets of your hometown, Busan. You jerk abruptly, straightening your posture. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” you ask, looking to your left at Jungkook.  
He shrugs in response. “You looked like you didn’t want to be waken. And trust me, I know what it feels like to be brought back to reality from a good nap too early.”  
You don’t dwell on that more. Instead, you look out of the window, greedily drinking in the city. You’re now driving through downtown, passing by shining skyscrapers. Both yours and Jungkook’s houses are situated in a more peaceful area of Busan, closer to the sea. That’s why you spent most of your childhood and teenage days there as long as the weather was merciful.  
Spring has always been your favourite time of the year but spring in Busan hits different. You don’t have an occasion to sit by the sea and watch the sky burning in orange and red in Seoul. Here, where you used to grow up, spring is the cherry tree blossoming, your mum planting vegetable seeds in her small garden behind your house, you and Jungkook smoking cigarettes underneath the pier while the sun hides  behind the horizon.
“Did you tell your parents you’re coming?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.  
“No, I didn’t. I want it to be a surprise for them.”  
“Oh, that’s cute.” he comments curtly and turns right. You’re approximately thirty minutes until you reach your destination. “I need to talk with you about one more thing before we get there.”  
You focus your sight on him, however he seems to avoid your eyes. You give him a sign to continue. “Go on.”
Jungkook rubs his forehead with his hand and then sighs. It’s a nervous habit of his, you recognize. “I just want to apologize for causing you so much trouble. Not only last time but in general,” He stops at the red light and cocks his head to the side to look at you. “I acted like a complete dick and you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry for everything. I thought this small trip here would be some sort of redemption for me, I don’t know.” The lights turns to orange, then to green and he focuses his eyes on the road again.
Reaching over the gearshift, you place a hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he peeks at you with the same, round, sparkly eyes you’ve grown to adore, all you can do is smile softly. “I’m okay, Kook. If that’s what you need, I don’t mind helping you. If only it means you’ll be okay too.”  
Perhaps he notices the sadness in your eyes when you say it. Perhaps he can tell your smile is not the happiest he’s ever seen. If he does, he chooses to stay silent. Instead, he nods. Taking his action as a sight to withdraw, you straighten on your seat.  
“There’s one more anything, actually,” Jungkook adds after a while.  
“What is it?”  
“You’re invited to a party.”  
“What party?” you ask, brows furrowed.
‘’We are celebrating Junghyun’s engagement.” he says casually.
Eyes widening, you let out a shocked gasp. “What?! Your brother got engaged?” 
Jungkook sends you a look. “Jealous, buttercup?”  
You roll your eyes. “I told you I had a crush on your brother when I was ten. It’s been twelve years since then. Twelve!” you exclaim, but he only smirks in response.  
The reason you liked Junghyun as a kid was simple: he was your best friend’s older brother. He was just there yet unreachable at the same time.  
(And he didn’t have as many pimples as Jungkook.)
But Junghyun getting married? That is a news to you. You clearly remember him telling you one day he would never form a serious relationship before he reaches thirty. Looks like he made up his mind.
“I’m just pleasantly surprised he decided to settle down. Junghyun has always been more of a free soul when it comes to dating. I even remember your mum throwing him a tantrum during barbecue because of this.” you say.
“Honestly, I’m not that shocked. You should’ve seen him looking at Hyerin during our Christmas dinner. This boy is whipped.” Jungkook chuckles.  
“Your parents must be happy.” you comment absentmindedly.
He nods, the corners of his mouth stretching in a small smile. “Yeah, they are. They really like Hyerin. And considering they won’t be getting grandchildren anytime soon thanks to my line of work–” he trails off, “–they are even happier that hyung is settling down.”  
The air seems heavy now inside Jungkook’s car. He said an obvious thing you were aware of but something aches in your chest at the thought.
You will never understand why there’s so much stigmatization surrounding idols dating other people. Wanting to be loved by someone is a natural, human need. Prohibition won’t magically stop them from catching feelings.  
But there’s also another side of the story – the one Jungkook referred to. In his line of work even if there are no obstacles, it’s hard to maintain a long-lasting relationship. And he knows that.  
You still remember vividly his first girlfriend. Her name was Eunbi and she was one of their manager’s daughter. Her dad used to take her to the MV sets, introduced her to the boys because she was a fan of them. And that’s how she met Jungkook.  
Jungkook, age seventeen, was too shy to hold a proper conversation and keep eye contact with a girl at the same time but somehow, him and Eunbi got along pretty quickly. They shared a sympathy for the same video games and for Jungkook back then it was enough to fall head over heels for her. She was his first kiss as he told you (”First real one, because I don’t count that peck Jisoo gave me in fifth grade as a kiss.”)  
After that moment you decided you’d never like Eunbi. Not because you were furiously in love with him, no.
You just didn’t want to see him form such a close bond with anyone else but you.
Their fairytale love story ended when Eunbi’s father found out about their secret randez-vous. Jungkook sulked for a week and then eventually got over Eunbi.  
(And he was again texting you about that video game you had no interest in but you pretended to be a good substitute for Eunbi and her nerdiness you lacked.)
“What are you thinking about?”  
You’re standing on the red light again. Glancing at Jungkook, you find him staring right back at you. “I’m wondering whether I’m invited to the wedding.” you lie.
“Of course you are. I’m sure hyung is going to do it officially tomorrow,” he answers with a grin. “I think Taehyung is coming too. He loves weddings.”  
Narrowing your eyes, you reply with a saccharine sweet voice, “It’s about time you introduce me to your bandmates. Especially Taehyung-oppa.”
“Oppa?”
You bite your lip. There’s no doubt you did that on purpose. You find it rather amusing to see Jungkook so worked up over such a silly thing. You wonder how far you can go before he finally snaps.  
Smirking to yourself, shrug your shoulders. “The light’s green. Watch the road, Kookie.”  
Jungkook huffs, shaking his head. It’s approximately fifteen minutes until you reach your destination. “I’m sure you will be delighted to meet him.” he says with enough amount of sarcasm for you to know he’s irritated.
“Oh, I will be over the moon.”  
“Good.”  
“Amazing, even.”
You hope he doesn’t notice you failing to maintain a serious expression.
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You moved with your parents to your new house in Busan at the age of eight, two ponytails, overalls and sparkly sneakers every kid wanted to have adoring your small frame, a look of pure concern worrying your childish, chubby features. 
It was a quiet neighborhood, on the suburbs of the town, a row of similarly looking terraced buildings and small gardens in front of them, every single one akin to the other. There was nothing distinctive about the area, it screamed dullness and tedium but for years you have grown to call this place home.
You know every corner here inside out. A local grocery store owned by a lovable, elder woman known as Miss Kim, who always has spare candies underneath the counter for children who come to buy something for their parents. Next to the store, there is a florist’s. Your first, high school part-time job. The intense smell of roses makes you nauseous to these days.
There is also your primary school, huge backyard behind it with a run-down playground. You never minded it though, spending there probably too much time for your parents liking. Many memories were made there. First, innocent childish peck placed on your cheek from a 6th grader named Jinyoung. Twisted ankle, tears, pain and regret because you decided to jump off the highest step of the climbing frame one Friday afternoon after classes. A punch to the face of school’s bully Dongin, who called your new pair of Converse trainers ugly.
It was exactly fourteen days before the end of August when you met Jungkook.
You had been living in the new house for almost a month but still felt too insecure to explore the neighborhood. Most of your time you were spending inside, missing your old friends and reading books to distract your attention from the approaching start of the second semester in school.  
It was probably one of the last scorching-hot days of the year and you were sitting in your garden alone, family’s cat named Leo purring on your lap, when all of a sudden a ball bounced on the grass right in front of you, landing perfectly at your feet and almost scarring Leo to death.  
And then, you looked up and saw him.
A pair of big, black doe-like eyes hidden behind a fringe of onyx hair staring at you through the fence curiously. The boy was not much older than you, probably around your age. He was wearing a striped football t-shirt with some popular team name.  
You fidgeted slightly on the pavement where you were sitting, glancing at the boy shyly like you didn’t know why he was looking at you so intensely. You noticed a small scar on his left cheek, his knees were bruised, splashed with dirt just like his sneakers.  
“Can you give me my ball?” he asked suddenly, startling you.  
Your eyes widened. Of course he would talk to you, you scolded yourself, he wants his ball back.
When you didn’t answer immediately, he continued, “I kicked my ball here by an accident. Can you give it to me?” He pointed at the object lying at your feet.  
You nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. You threw it over the fence, so it landed directly on the other side.
“Thanks.” the black-haired boy said. “I’m Jungkook, by the way. What’s your name?”  
“___.” you responded and the boy, Jungkook, grinned at you friendly, showing his bunny-like smile. He looked cute.  
“Bye, ___! See you tomorrow!” he beamed and headed back to his house.
Tomorrow. He wanted to meet up with you and what? Play football? You were petrified, as the eight-years-old girl should be after hearing such thing from a boy.
And just like he promised, Jungkook visited you the next day. He took you to that playground behind your new primary school. You came home with bruised legs and splotches of dirt on your skirt, to your mother’s dismay.
You also came home with a content grin plastered on your face and a new friend.
Unexpectedly, Jungkook appeared to be a pleasant company and you found yourself enjoying his boyish bickering while fulfilling the rest of the summer break doing things your old friends would consider inappropriate for a girl.
You never thought you could be friends with someone like Jungkook. He was a boy, for God’s sake, and your eight-years-old-barbie-phase-self absolutely despised boys. But months passed quickly and you both found yourselves stuck to each other sides. Something in your relationship simply clicked.
The neighborhood you grew up in isn’t a suburban area but it definitely seems more peaceful than busy streets of downtown. You pass by local church, miss Kim’s store and the big, luxurious house owned my Gwon family you dreamt of living in when you were a kid.  
And then, approximately two hundred meters further, there is your house.  
“Here we are.” Jungkook says, pulling up at his parent’s driveway. They left the gate open, anticipating their son’s arrival.  
Jungkook hands you your belongings, offering you sheepish smile. “I thought that once you unpack and eat dinner, we could go to the beach together,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course, only if you want to.”  
You don’t give his proposition a second thought. “I’d love to.”  
He grins in response and you take it as a sign to leave and finally meet your parents. From the distance you see your mother in the garden, dressed in her usual clothing – black and red checked shirt and cropped denim pants she wears while gardening.
She doesn’t notice you yet, too busy pulling weeds from her precious tulips. You know her better not to creep behind her like that, so you take a deep breath and shout, “Eomma! It’s me!”  
She stands up and twirls around to face you. Her eyes visibly widen, like she actually thought her mind is playing tricks on her and she might have misheard you.  
“Good Lord, Y/N, sweetie, is that really you?” She throws away her gloves and jogs up to you, enveloping you immadietly in a bear hug. “I missed you so much. Why didn’t you say anything you’re coming?”  
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you mumble. “Jungkook took me with him.”  
At that, your mother pulls away. She arches her brows. “Jungkookie is home as well?” she asks, earning a nod from you in response. “You’re talking with him again?” Her voice is laced with apparent bewilderment but that’s exactly what you expected her reaction to be like.  
Your mother is aware you and Jungkook haven’t been keeping in touch for three long years. She was basically your only source of information about him (besides Twitter) thanks to her close friendship with his parents.  
“That’s quite a long story. I will tell you everything later.” you say. Well, maybe not entirely everything. You’re for sure going to miss out the parts you’re not proud of.  
Your mother doesn’t press you more about it. Instead, she puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “It’s your lucky day sweetie, because we have your favorite bulgogi for dinner. Honey, come here quick!” she shouts and you chuckle, hearing your father responding with: “What is it again?”.
The door to your house creak open, revealing your flustered dad. His expression morphs into a genuine smile when he spots you. “Is it really my daughter or are my eyes deceiving me?” he asks.  
‘’Your eyesight is fine, appa. It’s really me.” You come up and give him a small hug. He was never the affectionate type of parent but once you moved out, he let his facade break a little.  
From where you’re standing now, you have a clear view of Jeons’ house. Here, fourteen years ago, sitting on your porch, you met Jungkook for the first time. You see his window upstairs, alligned perfectly with yours. You wonder if he’s already there, inside, unpacking in his blue-painted childhood room.  
(What if it isn’t painted blue anymore?)
“Come on, let’s go. You’re probably starving.” your mother says, pulling your mind back to the present.  
Walking into your house, all you can think about are his tears-filled eyes when you were bidding him goodbye almost ten years ago in his blue bedroom.
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It takes you more or less thirty minutes to reach the bay.  
When you were younger, you used to ride there by bikes practically every single day during summer. You loved sitting on the beach and observing people enjoying their time; swimming in the sea, kids building sand castles and their mums trying to relax among childlike chatter and the smell coming from nearby fishmonger’s store.
It was Jungkook who discovered the spot underneath pier. His curiosity only a twelve-year-old can posses led him there one day after school. At first, you were rather reluctant to go and didn’t mirror his excitement but once he actually showed you it, you changed your mind completely.  
It was a perfect place to hide from the world. You called it a ‘temple’ because it really felt like no one beside you knew about its existence, and that’s what made it sacred to you. When Jungkook moved away you were left to go there by yourself. Without him, it always felt like it was something missing.  
Right now, sitting here feels like you’ve you’ve turned back the time.  
It’s like you’re eighteen again, running away from the whole world, starting your own rebellion with a cigarette caught between your lips and sun disappearing behind the horizon. Listening to the songs Jungkooks had saved on his old iPod and catching up with everything that happened during the last few months when he was absent in your life. 
When you were eighteen you didn’t even know how to smoke properly, blowing out the fume too quickly and stiffing a cough so Jungkook wouldn’t laugh at you. Now it’s a different story.
Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you notice how much he’s changed physically over these five years that have passed. Gone is the baby fat on his cheeks, replaced with sculpted jawline and prominent nose. His hair is longer, falling on his forehead. There’s more piercings on his ears, an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist.  
He looks breathtaking. It never occurred to you before just how beautiful Jungkook really is up close, when there’s no flashing cameras around and make-up covering every imperfection on his face with concealer.
This is your Jungkook. The same one whose competitive nature never let you win any of his computer games, who called you after their debut showcase with quivering voice, who always treated you as his equal even when other boys were making fun of him for being friends with a girl. Your Jungkook, who’s too good for this world to be treated so unfairly.  
“I think Minho is cheating on me.” you blurt out.  
It’s been sitting on your tongue for weeks and now you finally let the words slip. You don’t see his reaction but from the sharp intake of breath you assume it’s not something he’s expected to hear from you.
“Few weeks ago I read a message on his phone from some girl asking when he will be free next time,” you continue before you could stop yourself. “He’s been meeting with her alone behind my back this whole time and I didn’t notice anything until now.” A pair of arms wrap around your frame. Jungkook presses a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. “I don’t even know if that’s true or I’m overreacting but I just can’t understand how he can lie to me one day and the next propose to move in with him.”  
You don’t realise you’re crying until you feel Jungkook hugging you closer to him. You burry you face into his chest as sob after sob shakes your body. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “I’m here.”  
Few minutes pass until you calm down, wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your hand. Jungkook offers you a tissue and you thank him with a small smile. You can only imagine how ridiculous you look right now, with smudges of mascara underneath your eyes and red nose. Not a sight for sore eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest.” you say after a moment.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Y/N. If you need to talk about it, I’m here for you. I’m still your friend, right?” Jungkook asks, meeting your eyes.
You nod, although he’s anything but friend for you. “Right.”  
Because friends don’t console each other with burning touches on bare skin. They don’t give into carnality and submit to pleasure, putting it before everything else.  
From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s jaw clenching. “I’m gonna kick his ass when I meet him.”  
Before you could stop yourself, you mumble, “He should probably kick yours, too.”   
Jungkook visibly stiffens, hearing your words. He avoids your eyes, staring down at his lap instead. You wonder what he’s thinking about now. Does he regret his actions? Do you regret letting it happen? No matter how much you know you did wrong, there’s a part of you longing for more. Because with Jungkook, you felt alive. Minho could never compare.
Reuniting with Jungkook after three years made you realize just how much you needed him back in your life. You actually stopped being mad at him the moment he stood in your room for the first time that night, disheveled and sleepy.  
You could love him. Perhaps you’ve always did. But he cannot give you more. Nothing besides bitter-sweet pleasure between the sheets.  
It’s Jungkook who speaks first.
“I might not be the best man in the world but I would never, ever hurt you like Minho does,” he says and you know he means it. He stares at you intensely. “You do believe me, right?”  
“I do.” you whisper truthfully.
He then leans closer and when you think he might actually kiss you, he places a small peck on your forehead. ‘’Good,” he murmurs, still inches from your lips. “Come on, let’s go. It’s getting late and I can practically hear my mum already complaining she doesn’t have enough time to spend with her son.”  
You nod aabsentmindedly at his words.
There’s a tough conversation for you to have once you’ll be back in Seoul again. Finding out about Minho’s lies was a point of no return for you. It made you realise you’ve been on this path with your relationship for a while now, missing signs or not paying enough attention to the details.  
But what is even more disturbing to you, is that you didn’t let Jungkook warm your bed out of simple frustration or heartache. You did it because you wanted him. And that thought scares you the most.
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The first thing Jungkook hears in the morning when he wakes up is the high-pitched chatter and the clutter of pots coming from the kitchen.  
He sighs to himself, staring at his blue ceiling. The clock on his bedside table reads 10am and at this rate, it looks like he won’t be getting any more sleep, not when his mum and soon-to-be sister-in-law are making a fuss downstairs preparing for the party.  
The strong smell of homemade food invades his senses as soon as he enters the kitchen. He spots his mum putting something in the oven, her usual red and white polka-dot apron adoring her form. Hyerin is right next to her, busy cutting some vegetables and listening tentatively to her mother-in-law’s babbling.  
“Good morning.” Jungkook says in a groggy voice followed by a yawn.  
“Morning.” Hyerin quips, flashing him a smile.
Jungkook’s mother barely acknowledges his presence, too busy moving around the kitchen and making sure nothing is burning or overcooking. Feeling the first rumble of his stomach, Jungkook opens the fridge and stares blankly at its contents.  
Miss Jeon runs her house by the rule the more, the better when it comes to preparing food for special family occasions. Hence why there’s so many different type of products lined up in front of him, just begging to become a remedy for his empty stomach.  
“Nu-uh, don’t even think about it!” she chimes in, closing the fridge in front of Jungkook’s face and crushing his dreams about having egg toasts for breakfast. He stares at her with confused expression. “Order yourself something for breakfast, please. We need kitchen to ourselves right now.”  
Knowing better not to argue with his mother, Jungkook sighs in defeat and opens the food delivery app on his phone. He chooses the first option that comes to his mind that won’t take too long to make and slumps down onto the couch.  
“Eomma, where’s dad and hyung?” he asks, debating whether to turn on the TV or not. He decides on leaving it silent.  
“I sent them to the grocery store. They should be back in two hours,” she responds. “Hyerin-ssi, please make sure to keep an eye on the soup. I’ll be right back!” The door to bathroom slams behind her and Jungkook chuckles under his breath.  
“Is she giving you hard time?” he asks Hyerin once he knows his mother cannot hear them.
Hyerin looks up to peek a glance in his direction. “Your mum is a lovely person, really, but she can be… a lot sometimes. Especially when she’s stressed.” she says, smiling coyly.
“Tell me about it.”  
She lets out a laugh that quickly dies down when aforementioned woman emerges from the bathroom. Instead of heading straight to the kitchen, she makes her way to Jungkook. “What are you planning to do after breakfast, Jungkookie?”  
Jungkook shrugs because honestly, he hasn’t given a thought it yet. “I don’t know. Maybe I can help you with something here.” he proposes, although cutting onions and cabbage is the last thing he would like to do.
Fortunately, the grimace on his mother’s face tells her she’s not quite fond of his proposition. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re perfectly fine on our own with Hyerin-ssi. We don’t need extra pair of hands. Why do you think I told Junghyun to go with dad?” she asks rhetorically with raised eyebrows.  
Of course Jungkook knows why. Kitchen is his mother’s kingdom. No one steps a foot there while she prepares food unless she permits it herself. Today she’s even more uncompromising about it because it’s the first time Hyerin parents are meeting Junghyun’s. It’s the matter of making a good impression as the host.  
“Maybe you could call Y/N and ask her what her plans are? I’m sure she won’t be very busy.” Jungkook’s mother prompts and he feels like he’s ten again, bored on Saturday and wondering what to do with himself. Then, an idea pops in his mind.
“Yeah. You’re right,” he agrees. “I’ll call her.”  
Maybe a literal trip down memory lane is everything he needs to feel like himself again.  
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As predicted, at first you welcomed his idea with a little bit of qualm, yet you said yes nonetheless.  
And now here you are, hanging out together at the playground behind your old primary school. Getting there wasn’t an easy task, it required some parkour abilities and jumping over the fence because the place is apparently being locked on weekends now. Ten years ago it used to be your life estate on Saturdays.
You’re currently sat on a swing, watching Jungkook doing pull ups. You have a nagging suspicion that he chose to go on with his daily workout routine right now on purpose but you’re not better yourself, doing rather poor job at ignoring the way his hoodie rides upwards with every move he makes, revealing his toned abdomen.
“Okay, I’m done.” he grunts, letting go of the bar. He plops down on the other swing next you with a heavy exhale. “How many was it?” he then asks, referring to the number of pull ups you were supposed to keep a track off.
For a moment you forget you’re supposed to answer, eyes focused on Jungkook’s throat as he chugs down the whole water bottle.
“Hmm?” he repeats and you quickly snap out of your trance.
“I lost count.” Truthfully, you didn’t even make an attempt to do so. You were too distracted by the act itself to pay attention to anything else, let alone do basic math. Now you do understand all these girls going crazy when they get a glimpse of his sculpted body.
Jungkook rolls his eyes in response and starts swinging himself back and forth. It you recall correctly, he lost one of his front baby teeth here, jumping off the swing.
“I thought a lot of would change here after so many years. But it looks exactly like I remembered it.” he says, slowing down to a halt.
You nod at his words. Apart from a little painting and renovations done here and there, it’s like it all got stuck in time. You’re about to add that your mother told you the infamous principal Choi is still consistently running the school, but Jungkook doesn’t let you vocalize it.
“Wait,” He stands up suddenly and walks to the seesaw swing. You furrow your brows as he crouches on the ground and attentively observes the object, presumably searching for something. “A-ha! Here it is! I knew it still would be there.” he exclaims excitedly after a few seconds.
Confused, you come up to him. “What are you doing?”  
“Look,” he says, pointing at the wooden base of the seesaw. At first glance you don’t notice anything but as you get closer, you see what he meant.  
Jinyoung + Y/N = ♡ engraved on the swing.
“Oh my god.” you groan, covering your face in embarrassment.  
Jungkook ignores your whining and actually snaps a picture of his finding. “You know what’s actually funny? It was me who did this because you didn’t have enough strength.” He giggles, making your cheeks heat up in bright shade of red. “I stole my dad’s pocket knife for it. Such a shame your love story lasted only a week.”  
“I’m not listening to you!” you announce and quickly come back to your previous spot on the swing.
Jungkook doesn’t give up easily though, enjoying tormenting you with your pre-teen love life. He follows you, asking, “Wasn’t he your first kiss as well?” You keep your mouth shut, avoiding his eyes. He then clasps his hands. “Yeah, I remember now. Sixth grade. He kissed you here, am I right?”  
You wish you could wipe off that smirk from his face.  
“I never liked Jinyoung,” he continues, sitting down next to you on the second swing. “But I always wanted to have that black range rover his dad drove.”  
Your face heats up even more at the mere mention of Jinyoung and his dad’s car in one sentence. Jungkook can make fun of your silly crush as much he wants, but he doesn’t know one thing.  
That your little infatuation had a sequel.  
Taking a deep breath, you lean closer to him and ask, “Wanna know a secret?” He sends you a curious look and nods. You brace yourself for what is about to come. “I lost my virginity at the back of that range rover.”
Jungkook chokes on air. His eyes widen in pure shock and you have to fight an urge to laugh at how ridiculous he looks right now, gaping at you with mouth wide open. “What the fuck, Y/N?! Tell me you’re joking, please.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “I wish but unfortunately, that’s true. We went to the same high school and somehow… our paths crossed together again.” you explain.
“And you decided to fuck him in his dad’s car?”  
“No, dumbass. We were dating. For whole six months.”  
Jungkook sends you a look. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not like we were talking back then,” you reply sheepishly, toying with the edge of your sweater. Suddenly it’s hard for you to meet his scrutinizing  stare. “You stopped responding to my messages a little before I started dating him.”  
The atmosphere between you tenses. Jungkook’s expression morphs from astonishment into guilt and you curse yourself for ruining the mood.  
Jinyoung is just a mere memory, one of many mistakes you made during your teen years. He wasn’t anyone special to you anymore, he never had been. Not even when he deflowered you on the backseat of his dad’s car one night after some party. You were too drunk to care and too inexperienced to do more than just lie there and take it. With your skirt hiked up and blouse mid-open, wondering if Jinyoung was just as clueless as you when it came to sex or he simply didn’t know how to pleasure women.
What Jungkook doesn’t have to know, is that you jumped into the relationship with Jinyoung to fill the void your best friend created three years ago with unanswered messages and never returned calls.  You were lonely in high school, you couldn’t manage to form a close bond with anyone after Jungkook. You hoped Jinyoung was good enough for a replacement.
“What about you then?” you ask to clear the atmosphere. “I told you my secret, now you reveal me yours.”  
To loosen up the tension a bit, you decide to play the quid pro quo card. Partially out of curiosity, but mostly because you feel like you’ve exposed yourself too much in a short period of time. It will only be fair if he gives you the same in return.  
Jungkook smiles bashfully. For the person who had done many dirty things to you before, he sure looks shy now. “I was nineteen as well. She was a friend of a friend, four years older than me. We met a party, flirted a little and one thing led to another,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never seen here after that. She tried to contact me but I just… I didn’t want to commit to something more.”
Is he ready for more now? you wonder silently. The question stays at the tip of your tongue though. You can’t wish for more when everything he’s able to provide is a few, quick moments of blissful relief between the sheets when sun goes down.  
But what if you want more? What if you’ve always, subconsciously, felt like you belonged together but universe decided to split you apart? What if you’ve always been in love with your best friend?  
The realization hits you like a tsunami. All these years, you spent denying your feelings for him. And when there’s a chance for you act on them, you back away. 
Because even if he’s now inches from you, he seems out of your reach.
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By the time you gulp down your third glass of champagne, Jungkook’s brother’s engagement party is in full swing.  
Junghyun and Hyerin didn’t invite many people to celebrate. It’s a small, family gathering. Your parents were invited thanks to the almost twenty-years-long friendship with Jeons, which started when you moved into the new house next to theirs.  
Jungkook looks painfully handsome dressed in black suit pants and emerald green button-up shirt. His raven hair is styled the way you like the most, parted in the middle and revealing his forhead. You, on the other hand, are wearing a simple, long-sleeved navy blue dress you’ve had on multiple occasions before but it’s still your top go-to garment when you have nothing else to put on.
“Have I told you look great tonight, buttercup?”  
Turning around, you’re met with Junghyun’s smiling face. Of course he would approach you with his childhood nickname for you that used to make your heart flutter.
Besides his hair color, there’s little resemblance between him and Jungkook when it comes to appearance. While Jungkook took a lot after their father, Junghyun is almost a cardboard copy of their mum. Even their characters are two polar opposites. Junghyun is the more outgoing, boisterous type but Jungkook still tends to act introverted towards strangers.  
And paradoxically, it’s the younger brother who’s making a career in entertainment industry.
“Shouldn’t you be complementing your fiancée instead?” you ask, accepting another glass of Martini Junghyun hands you.  
“As you can see, she’s busy being interrogated by my mother.”  
From the corner of your eye, you see Hyerin nodding along to whatever miss Jeon is telling her right now, expressively gesturing. It’s her brand to do so. Your father says that she talks with her mouth and hands simultaneously.
“I’m sure Hyerin-ssi went through it already when they were preparing food together earlier today.” you joke.
Junghyun chuckles, having a seat next to you. He sends quick, supportive thumbs-up to to his girlfriend when she glances at him from the spot she occupies on the couch. You can’t help but coo at the sight.
“So,” you quip, “when’s the wedding?”  
“Next year in August,” Junghyun answers. “You’re obviously invited as well.”  
You smirk around the champagne glass. “I wouldn’t miss seeing my childhood crush getting married.”  
Junghyun laughs at that, throwing his head back. After a moment he adds, “It’s funny though, how you were gushing over me when the boy who had heart eyes for you was right under your nose.”  
You arch a brow. “You mean Jungkook? He had a crush on me?”  
“If course he did. You were the only girl who talked to him and moreover, you always helped him with his homework and you know how bad he was at algebra,” Junghyun says, sending you a knowing look. That much is true. Jungkook did suck at Math and could not, for crying out loud, interact with girls. “If he could, he would’ve taken you with him to Seoul all those years ago.”  
Your eyes involuntarily drift to aforementioned boy, standing with his father in the kitchen. They are looking at something your dad is showing them on his phone, probably pictures of the car he recently renovated.  
(A classic Chevrolet Camaro 1969. For all you know it looked like Damon’s car in Vampire Diaries.)
You can see Jungkook’s eyes growing big as he stares down at the screen. Obviously, he’s genuinely amazed with what he sees. You can only hope your dad won’t try persuading him to sell his luxurious Mercedes and buy something vintage instead.
“Why didn’t ever tell me that?” you ask, your voice quivery. You take another gulp of your drink to soothe the emotions bubbling in your chest and you barely succeed.
Junghyun shrugs his shoulders in response. “Would it change anything? You were thirteen-year-old kids back then and he was moving out to another city to make his big dream come true.”  
Pursing your lips, you nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”  
You don’t know exactly what Jungkook feels for you right now. Back when you were teenagers, it was just a fleeting attraction. Perhaps he thought about you this way because you were a girl who liked spending time with him.  
“I know him giving up your friendship was a dick move but you have to believe me that this boy has been really lost these past three years. Now he’s trying to find himself again, to become a better version of himself,” Junghyun remarks. “He needs his best friend to help him do so.”  
Turning once again to look at Jungkook, you catch him staring right back at you. He flashes a cheeky grin and completely fails winking at you. You’re lips automatically stretch into a smile seeing his goofiness. You like that side of him. It suits him.
“I think I need to go save my fiancee from my mother.” Junghyun whispers, catching you off guard. He follows your line of sight and smirks to himself. “Go talk to him. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind snatching Jungkook for a bit.” Unlike his younger brother, he lands a perfect wink.
Like beckoned, Jungkook approaches you when Junghyun leaves the table. “Aren’t you a little sad he’s getting married, buttercup?” It’s the first thing that night he says to you.  
Fighting an urge to snort, you ask, “Aren’t you tired of being jealous I chose Junghyun-oppa as the object of my affection and not you when we were kids?”
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, manifesting his irritation. You relish in it even more now, having the knowledge he used to pin after you. He ignores your witty retort though completely.
“Want to get out of here for a while?”  
Your heart skips a beat. “Where?” you blurt out, looking around the room for any place comfortable for you to stay in for a while.
“Isn’t it obvious?” When you raise your brows in question he adds, “To your house, of course.”  
“But–”
He shooshes you with a finger on his lips. “No buts, Miss Grumpy. It’s been ages since I’ve been in your room. Do you still have that Edward Cullen’s poster above your bed?” he asks and this time, you actually land a punch to his arm.
Downing the rest of your champagne, you get up from the chair. “Shall we?”  
“Ladies first.”  
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“I still can’t understand why did you really hang a poster of some pale dude above your bed.”  
You’re climbing up the stairs to your room, and Jungkook is in the middle of his rant about Why Twilight Has Ever Been A Thing. You’re ten seconds from pointing out his teenage female crushes one by one, starting with IU just to rile him up.
“It’s just weird for me,” he huffs upon taking one last step to the top.
You whip your head to send him a glare. “Do you really want me to say the same thing about your fans worshipping your posters?” you ask, eyes narrowed. “You’re out of their reach just like Edward Cullen was out of mine when I was fourteen.”
He points his finger at you. “But he’s a fictional vampire and I’m real.”  
“Exactly!”  
You leave him with that, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and open the door to your room.
“So you did get rid of him after all.”  
Nothing really much changed in your childhood room since you moved out four years ago. Your walls are still painted in lavender but the posters are long gone, much to Jungkook’s dismay. There is a bookshelf with all your favorite positions (Twilight included) standing directly next to the desk which is now pearl white, just like the rest of your furniture.  
Before you can say anything, Jungkook plops down onto your bed. “You still got them though,” he murmurs and you glance in his direction, waiting for him to elaborate on what he means. He raises his finger to the ceiling. “Those yellow stars that shine when it’s dark. You have the same in your apartment in Seoul.”  
“Oh, yeah,” you awkwardly reply, looking up. “I put them there so I can have something reminding me of home.”  
Truth to be told, you are a sentimental person. The very best evidence of your heart’s weakness is the corkboard with old photos in your apartment. As cheesy as it might sound, it gives you a sense of comfort.
Jungkook hums at that and pats the spot next to him with his hand. “Come lay with me.” he proposes.
“Why?” you ask, although you sit down on the bed anyway.  
“Because I want you to,” he grumbles and places his palm on your stomach, pushing you to lay flat. “There you go.”  
It reminds you of old days, how you used to lay down with him like that on your bed and just do nothing, simply staring at the constellations on your ceiling in silence or speaking about trivial things.  
Life was much easier back then, when there was no cameras flashing around and capturing every move your best friend makes. When you were just two kids with head full of dreams and dragging on forever doing your Chemistry homework. When you were each other’s beginning and end, yin and yang, sun and moon and the starry sky above you.  
It slips off your tongue eventually, what have you been meaning to ask him since the beginning of your illicit affair. And now it seems like you’ve finally reached the point of no return. “What are we, Jungkook?”  
You turn your head to the side, staring at his right profile. His chiseled jawline, black lashes ghosting the skin of your cheeks. He opens his eyes slowly, focusing his sight on you but you quickly look away.
“You know damn well that we aren’t just friends anymore. Maybe we’ve never been,” You sit up straight from your position, finally gaining enough courage to face the matter. “You can’t play with my emotions like that and expect me not to catch any feelings for you. You’re confusing me so much, Jungkook. I don’t think I can go on like that any more.”  
You feel his palm on the small of your back, comforting and bringing you a brief wave of solace. He follows suit, getting up from his position as well. “Look at me,” he murmurs and you jerk your head to the side. You don’t want him to see you like this again - vulnerable and exposed. “Please, ___.”  
It’s his pleading voice that makes you succumb to his request. Hesitantly, you accept his touch on your cheek and meet his doe eyes, two black charcoals shining in the dim lighting of your childhood room. He has the same look in them as you saw the first time he kissed you. If the teeth worrying his bottom lip are anything to go by, you could mistake it for nervousness.  
“I shouldn’t feel that way about you,” Jungkook finally says. “I shouldn’t wake up with an urge to text you because if I didn’t, my day would be incomplete. I shouldn’t picture us doing mundane things like cooking ramen in your apartment or picking you up from work,” he recites, voice laced with an emotion you can’t quite put the name on. Or maybe you do.
It’s longing.  
“I shouldn’t imagine us being together because I can’t give you all of these things, ___.” Lone tear slides down your cheek and he catches it with his thumb. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
You’re shaking your head, because no, he shouldn’t apologize for the world’s unfairness, for wanting to have more of you, of freedom. “Jungkook–” you start but he’s quick to interrupt you.  
“I told you this before and I’m repeating it now: you deserve so much better than what I can give you, ___.”  
He tries to distance himself, to back away and leave because that’s what he’s a master of but you beat him to it, extending your index finger and poking him right in the middle of his chest. “Now you listen to me, Jeon Jungkook,” you urge, not caring about your tear-strained cheeks and shaky voice. “I’m a very stubborn person, and you know that. If I wanted to leave you, I would’ve kicked you out of my apartment the day your drunk ass stormed back into my life.”  
He smiles sheepishly, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “And why didn’t you do that?” he asks, his palm not leaving your cheek.  
“Because more than anything, I’ve never stopped caring about you,” It’s almost a whisper. “No matter how hurt I was, I couldn’t let you slip away from my reach again.”  
And then he’s leaning even closer, lips almost touching yours yet it feels like it’s not enough. It’ll never be. “___,” he murmurs your name softly, breath smelling of champagne hot on your skin. You feel dizzy, drunk on him. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”  
You both know it’s a white lie, that as soon as you’re back in Seoul the reality will brutally kick you in but you let yourself for a moment indulge in this fantasy – that you’re his and he’s yours. You’re on the opposite sides of the spectrum, yet you cannot be separated.  
And you need to hear him say it.
“Promise?”  
Jungkook seals it with a kiss, the one that leaves you breathless and pliant in his arms, blindly reaching for him and pulling him closer with your hands on his neck. “Promise.” he whispers, eyes trained on yours.
For now, it has to be enough.
Then, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer, he dives in for more, hands finding purchase on your hips. He’s tugging you closer until you’re perched on top of his thighs, feeling the hard flesh flexing underneath your weight. It feels familiar; that funny, pulsing sensation building up in your core when he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip to meet yours. It makes you tangle your fingers in his black locks and pull, just to hear him groan into your mouth.
But there’s another pressing matter on your mind and before you can go any further, you’re pulling away from his lips with a light smack. Jungkook doesn’t take the hint though, anchoring your hips over his crotch.
“Wait,” you mumble in between kisses, biting down the moan that almost tears from your throat when he uses the grip on your body to grind down on him. “What about the party? What if parents will come home and–”
“Shhh,” He silents you with a peck on your quivery lips. “They won’t. The party has barely started. And even if they do come home, you’ll just have to be quiet, right?” Something about his tone makes you nibble on your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He sees it, and leans down to kiss your throat. “Can you do that for me, baby?”  
“Mhm,” you mewl, angling your neck to give him more access. He sucks a mark right above your sternum and it almost distracts you from asking him one more thing. “Jungkook,”  
He licks a stripe up the column of your throat and looks at you, lips shining with saliva. “What is this?”  
Despite the urge to kiss him stupid right here and there, you cup his cheeks and repeat the same question that led you to this very moment. “What are we?”  
Jungkook looks like a living sin with his blown out pupils and disheveled hair yet his gaze is nothing less than affectionate. He brings one of your hands to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. “Whatever you want us to be,” he responds, sincere. “You know I never give up without trying.”
You nod, a small smile dancing on your features. “I know.”  
He captures your mouth in another kiss, like he’s trying to prove his statement with actions; sucking, biting, kneading your supple flesh just right. Suddenly there’s too many clothes separating you and your fingers grip his silk shirt in faint attempt to satisfy your yearning to feel him fully.
As if reading your mind, Jungkook stops mid-decorating your neck with yet another red mark. “Get up and take off your dress for me, baby.” he says, all soft but still demanding enough to make your knees wobble. As much as you love the dominant side of him, you’re enjoying this new-found softness of his.  
You comply to his request in an instant, raising from his lap to a standing position. Your fingers travel to your backside and pull the zipper down. Your dress falls on the floor with light thud, leaving you in your underwear. It’s matching but not your best pick nonetheless; simple black lace bra and cotton panties. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, two antsy hands gently pulling you closer to him until you’re in between his thighs.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a feathery kiss on your belly. You let out a shaky sigh, trying to avert your gaze away from his burning stare but he destroys your attempt. “Don’t shy away from me now.” A squeeze to your hip is a warning. You give in, looking down just to see him smirking right back at you.  
“I won’t if you take off your clothes as well.” you challenge despite your trembling voice.
He gets up, towering over your figure. “Undress me then.” Your shaky fingers reach for the buttons, opening one by one. He watches your movements attentively, lets you run your palms over his broad chest. His silky shirt joins your dress on the floor as you fumble with his belt buckle.  
There’s something intimate about this moment. It’s not the first time you’re seeing each other naked yet everything feels new, unchartered. You’re exploring each other again, mapping your bodies with subtle touches and observant eyes. 
Jungkook strips off his slacks, steps off his shoes along with socks. He sends you a cheeky grin. “Now we’re even.” He swallows your giggle with his mouth, not wasting any more time and pressing you against his body.  
You moan when you feel his erection touching your hip. He uses it as an opportunity to slither his tongue inside, each experienced lick making it hard for you to follow his tempo. You go lax in his hold, letting him snap your bra open. He maneuvers your body until you’re laying on your back and he’s straddling your waist.  
“So pretty,” he marvels, palms caressing your breasts. Your nipples harden under his ministrations, breathy moan escaping your lips when he pinches them. “Such a pretty baby.” he repeats, lost in touching every part of you he can reach.
Jungkook peppers kisses on your belly, hands travelling to your thighs. He leans to kiss you on your panty-clad mound. You mewl at the sensation, unconsciously sliding your legs wide open and giving him more access to your center. “Can I eat you out?” he asks, continuing mouthing over your pussy. When you don’t answer him in time, he slaps your thigh in reprimand. ‘’Hmm?”  
“Please,” you whimper, mind send into overdrive. Minho rarely went down on you and you almost forgot how good it feels to have someone’s mouth on you.
Jungkook grasps your underwear and pulls it down your legs, revealing your dripping pussy to his hungry eyes. His breath tickles your folds, sheets grasped tightly between your fingers. Jungkook kitten-licks your pulsing clit, eyes trained on your face to see every small reaction he emits from you.
“Jungkook,” you keen, hips rising to chase after his mouth.  
He nibbles on your thigh playfully, flashing you a sly smile. “What do you want, doll?”  
It’s the ‘doll’ that makes you whine pitifully at him. He relishes in it, sucking your clit into his mouth as an apology for his teasing.  You whimper, “Please, I want more. Give me more.”  
‘’Demanding, are we?” he snorts but complies anyway. No matter how much he loves hearing you beg, he enjoys eating you out more. He covers you your pussy with his mouth, tongue swiping over your sensitive numb. He licks up clean your soaking slit, not missing a single drop of your pearly arousal.
He groans at the taste and throws your legs over his shoulders. He pulls you even closer to him until his face is burried between thighs. Your fingers wander to his hair on their own accord, threading into his silky strands. After a harsh suck he abuses your clit with, you pull. It spurs him on even more, a groan mouthed against your pussy causing even more slick to drip down your opening. 
“Tell me how good it feels.” he mumbles, glancing up at your face. You focus your sight on him, his chin is shining with translucent substance, hair tangled and sweaty against his forehead.  
“So good,” you mewl.  
“Yeah? That good?” Jungkook asks, tone almost mocking. You’re now only nodding in response, your cunt pulsing with a need to release. “Can you cum for me like this, baby?” he mouths along your folds.  
“Please, please,” You’re nearly crying, tears pricking in the corners because the pleasure is too much to bear. Your clit throbs, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Oh my god–Kook!”  
“Good girl,” He rewards you with two slender fingers pushing inside your pussy, searching for that one stop that makes your insides flutter. “My pretty baby, tastes so sweet for me.” he rasps before licking a stripe up your cunt.
His digits slide even deeper into you. It sounds sinfully wet but you don’t care, accepting whatever he gives you. And give does he, plunging his fingers repeatedly inside and flicking his tongue against your bud – a perfect symphony to finally send you over the edge.
“There you go,” he murmurs, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers. More juices leak out of your hole and he drinks them up eagerly. “My pretty girl doing so good for me.”  
He prolongs your orgasm until you stop him with a breathy whimper of, “’m sensitive.”  
Jungkook gets up to hover over your shaking body. He opens your mouth with a deep, wet kiss. You taste your arousal on his tongue, feeling no longer foreign and eliciting a moan out of you. His length presses against your hip, hard and straining his briefs. With a surge of boldness you reach down, rolling his underwear off his body. His cock slaps against his abdomen, curved tip leaking precum.
Nibbling on your bottom lip you watch as his hand encloses around his member, giving it a few pumps. He groans, head thrown back. Your eyes focus on the sweat dripping down his sculpted body all the way from his neck down his chest. Jungkook is a sight for sore eyes– slim waist, toned thighs. Everything about him is mesmerizing.  
He settles between your legs, cock prodding at your folds. “You sure?” he asks, searching for your eyes.  
You don’t answer him verbally this time and he doesn’t press about it. Instead you open your legs even wider, a small smile dancing on your features as you nod. You’re welcoming the stretch with a drawn out moan. He pushes himself inside slowly, until he’s flushed against your pelvis, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling your skin.  
“Fuck,” he curses, hands coming up to grip your sides so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so perfect, baby. Made for me.” He leans to press a kiss on your mouth, tongue lazily lacing with yours. It’s messy, saliva trickling down your chin but you don’t care, reciprocating with vigor.  
Jungkook pulls away and places one last peck on your cheek. “Ready?” he murmurs.  
You couldn’t be more than. “Ready.”  
He picks up the pace, blindly reaching for your legs to make you encircle his waist. You’ve never fucked in this position before, with him so close to your face you could practically taste the sweat dripping off his body on your lips. He relishes in having you like this, palms caressing every square inch of your flesh. 
‘’God, I missed having you like this, doll,” he grunts. He props his hand next to your head and it gives him leverage to hammer himself faster into your cunt. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” he asks and you keen in response. He doesn’t seem to be satisfy with your reaction. “Too fucked out to speak?” You hear him chuckling evily into your ear.
“Shit, Jungkook,” you whimper, throwing your hands over his neck. His skin his hot and slippery under your touch. He rams himself even harder into you, hips never losing the rhythm. You feel the pressure building up in your abdomen already, reducing you to mewling mess underneath him. “I-I love it. So, so much.” you stammer out.
“Yeah?” he prompts, fingers slipping down your belly to toy with your clit. “Love how my cock is fucking you?”
“Yes, yes–fuck,” you chant. “So good.”  
He loses himself in you, in the way how tight you feel around his cock. He tells you this, spits filthy obscenities into your ear and punctuates it with deep strokes inside you. He wants to have you like this forever, keep you to himself and hide from the whole world.  
It’s selfish of him to think that way but he can’t help it, not when you’re moaning so pretty when he tightens his grip on your waist and rails you harder into the mattress. Not when you’re there when he needs you, when you’re his lifeboat bringing him back to the land (sanity).  
He wants to see you smile for him, because of him. Wants to call you his. And that’s what he asks you to, begs in stranded voice. “Say you’re mine,”  You’re shaking your head, tears threatening to spill from your eyes but he needs to hear you say it even if it’ll be just this once. “Please, tell me you’re mine, ___.”
Your whole body shudders from pleasure. You open your quivery lips but nothing comes out of it except for a broken whimper of his name. “J-jungkook–”
“Please,” he pleads once again, entangling your hands from around his neck and pinning them over your head instead. “Say nobody will ever make you feel this way. Fuck you until you cry,” he continues, fingers circling your nub with ferocity. “Fucking say it!”  
You sob, pleasure rippling through your body and throwing you off the edge. “I’m yours,” you whisper hoarsly, staring into his dark orbs. “Yours, yours, yours!” you repeat, creaming his cock with your release.  
“Fuck,” Jungkook groans and you don’t know it’s because of your confession or your walls constracting around his member. Maybe it’s the mixture of both. “You’re mine just like I’m yours.” he spits as the orgasm approaches him, shuddering through his whole body. He comes with a call of your name, spilling himself inside.  
You whimper at the sensation, your arousal mixing with his and dripping from your hole. Jungkook lets go of your wrists, pressing a peck on each of them. His palm cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss you. It’s lazy, your mouths barely moving but it feels good anyway.  
He’s in the middle of pulling his softening cock out of your core when you hear your mum’s voice.  
“___, honey, are you here?” She’s downstairs, approximately forty-five seconds from reaching your room.
Jungkook sends you a panicked look. “Go lock my door!” you hiss. 
He obliges quickly, naked butt jogging across the room to twist the key. You can’t help but giggle as he tiptoes to the bed again. He puts a hand over your mouth and murmurs, “Shhh, be quiet.”  
Your mum’s heels clink on the stairs. Few seconds later she’s knocking on your door. “___, are you there?” she asks. You’re praying she won’t twist the handle because in that case you’ll have a lot of awkward explaining to do. Fortunately, she gives up. “I guess they went for a walk.”  
By ‘they’ she means you and Jungkook who’s currently stifling a laugh against your shoulder. “Well, maybe not for a walk but something equally energy-draining.” he whispers. You elbow him in the stomach, making him chuckle even harder.
When you hear the door to your house closing, you let out a breath of relief. “I knew fucking in my childhood bedroom wasn’t a good idea.”
Jungkook smirks. “You sure about that?” he teases, squeezing your hip. It makes you roll your eyes but you don’t hide the smile on your face afterwards anyway.
Jungkook reaches for your panties and rolls you onto your back, carefully cleaning you up and then himself. He tucks you beneath the covers, encircling your body with his arm. You relish in the heat radiating of him, pressing your cheek right where his heart beats.
“You’ve never told me what would be my biography’s title.” Jungkook says after a moment.  
You smile to yourself, fingertips drawing patterns on his skin absentmindedly. “I’d call it ‘Lost Star’.” you answer.  
“Because I’m a troublesome celebrity?” he chuckles and you shake your head.  
“Well, of course you can interpret it like that but for me it has more of a metaphorical sense,” you explain. “You’re a star, like those on the sky, which got lost and came to Earth instead. That’s why you’re so special. Because you’re out of this world.”  
“I’m no special,” Jungkook grumbles, pouting.  
You sit up from your position to look him in the eyes. “You’re wrong, Jeon Jungkook. And I think I’m not the only person who thinks the same,” you urge. He meets your gaze and you realise how young he looks right now. Young and boyish. “You make thousands of people smile because of your music. That’s a special ability to me.”  
He flashes you a small smile. “I’ve never thanked you for believing in me from the very beginning.” he says, cupping your cheek in his palm.  
“Always.”  
You drift off to sleep with his voice humming softly in your ears.
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[4 months later]
“Bangtan Sonyeondan are currently at the Incheon International Airport, leaving for their upcoming world tour. Their first show will be held this Saturday in Los Angeles and–”
You walk into the living room and sit on the sofa, staring at the pictures Korean press took of Jungkook and his bandmates while they were departing to US. They are dressed in their casual clothing and you know the fans are going to freak out seeing Jungkook’s hair has gotten long enough to tie it in a man bun. You’re almost sure the news have already spread on Twitter.
The TV is too big for your liking but Jungkook insisted on buying it anyway. You can almost see the pimple on his cheek he woke up with this morning. It makes you smile involuntarily.
Rest of the design in his–now yours as well– apartment was mainly your idea. He bought it without telling you because he knew you would freak out. And you did, obviously, call him crazy. But he didn’t mind. Told you he needed a space for himself for a very long time and now he has someone to share it with.  
The house feels empty without him. It’s too spacious for one person and when he’s not around, you feel like intruder. But you’ve put on your big girl shoes this morning after a passionate round of love making and teary-eyed goodbyes. You won’t slip them off until he will come home to you in two months.  
He promised he would show you Paris and London. You know he will keep that promise, although you aren’t sure you’ll be able to make it with your new job. After breaking up with Minho, Jungkook encouraged you to try sending your drafts to different publishing companies. And one of them responded positively.
You check your phone–your smiling face meeting you on the lockscreen. Jungkook’s smooching your cheek, but prying eyes wouldn’t be able to tell it’s him from that angle. His last text message is from fifteen minutes ago.  
[5:55pm] jungkook:  
We’re departing in 20 minutes  
I’m missing you already so much:(
You reply, although he’s probably fast asleep like he always does during flying.  
[6:01pm] me:  
Miss u too!!
And you mean it. You’re missing him when he’s at his dance practice, when he’s in the studio. But it has to be enough for now.  
The dates he takes you for have to be in the confines of your apartment. You can’t go for a walk and hold his hand or kiss him in public. He said you needed to wait for the tour to end to discuss publicly announcing your relationship. You’re wondering what’s better: forever hiding or being judged for every step you take.
You’re a strong girl, he once told you. And you’ll continue being one. For the two teenagres on the beach smiling to the camera in the framed photo next to your TV.  
However long it takes.  
860 notes · View notes
sunnysviolin · 3 years
Note
au where kel shatters (i use shatter instead of snap bc snap implies anger) and just. stops trying. like completely fading into the background, giving up on everything except his visits to sunny and maybe basketball. - ⚜️
A wild nonnie appeared! Hahaha lol my stupid jokes only make me laugh. BUT! Welcome to the club fleur de lis <3 I saw you and immediately gasped and began to work on this. I saved it and scheduled this to go out after Mari’s birthday so uhhh Happy Tuesday! I’ve gotta catch em all LMAO. Also what an ask to start off with I love it so much! I feel bad because it’s clear who my favorite characters are and which ones I neglect, but alas. People who say they don’t have favorite children….liars...all of em. Anyways here take some headcanons for this nonnie. 
ALSO Honestly this isn’t even really an AU, It’s like a soft sort of canon shift that butterfly effects outward. I’m also going with the suicide ending where both Basil and Sunny end up dying so trigger/spoiler warning. Usually I put this kind of thing under a read more if I put a trigger warning, but I don’t think I will because it’s not like explicitly discussed here. I will put it in the tags though…. Haha I lied! I’m putting this under a read more because it got long as fuck and also it’s actually really sad….geez
I think that there’s a lot in canon that supports this au idea. Honestly it’s crazy to think that somehow he held onto his positivity and that’s what saved everyone. If Kel hadn’t continued to reach out to Sunny for all of those years and continued to treat all of his friends with love and determination...they might’ve all ended up being consumed by their grief
So what if….he didn’t continue to reach out
After Mari dies Kel does his best to try and hold together a rapidly sinking ship. He does his best to be there for Hero, to check on Sunny, to defend Basil from Aubrey even though Basil is increasingly pulling away.
It’s hard work and he has no support system, but he knows that his people need him. He still has his optimism and it gives him strength
But what would be enough to shatter that? What would be enough to push Kel into giving up?
Hero
Hero was able to make a shift after the night that he and Kel argued. In canon he says terrible things to Kel, but almost immediately apologizes and comes back into being himself somewhat. His parents tried to take him away, but Hero persevered past that and probably saved himself and Kel that night.
Everyone was alone after Mari died, but after that night Hero and Kel at least somewhat had each other. I think it’s because of that that Kel is able to keep up his hope in canon. 
So this is the one shift in this AU. Hero lets his parents take him away. He didn't come back that night. Kel was left alone after their argument. 
That night is Kel’s formative experience. His brother and his parents leaving him and letting him be all by himself drowning in his grief and his pain. It’s a terrible night, but he’s still alive the next day. Still alive, but he’s different now. Hero still makes him breakfast and still apologizes, but the damage is already done. 
Kel takes the plate and picks at the food, but he doesn’t tell his brother it’s okay. He doesn’t forgive him. Hero thinks that Kel is angry with him and needs time, but Kel isn’t angry. Kel is just tired and he has given in to what the rest of them already gave into
Kel goes to school that day and he doesn’t look to see if Basil came today. When Aubrey and her group try to provoke him, Kel doesn’t take the bait. After school he goes to the park and plays basketball by himself. He doesn’t go home until late in the night. Practicing basketball is the first thing that has felt good to him in a long time. Sinking shots is a simple motion that brings success over and over. 
He gets home after dark, long past curfew.
Hero was worried sick and his parents are angry, and Kel just...doesn’t care. His brother is shaking him and his parents are yelling, and all of it just bounces off of Kel. He isn’t scared by their reactions, isn’t annoyed or irritated. He’s just...mute. 
And that’s how it continues. Hero keeps trying to reach him, but Kel won’t be reached. He heard exactly what Hero thought of him that night, and he’s done with trying. It’s not even a spiteful or angry thing. He just doesn’t have any hope that things will get better anymore. 
Kel stops knocking on Sunny’s door everyday afterschool. He stops looking for Basil in the halls. Aubrey’s insults and taunts roll off of him and she slowly stops trying to get his attention. Kel focuses in on the few things he knows he still understands. The feeling of dribbling a ball. The faint heart race of running across a court. 
Kel makes it onto the varsity team when he’s 14. Freshman normally don’t, but he’s good. He’s really good, but there’s one key thing that holds him from being the best. Kel is not a team player. It’s not that he hogs the ball or has some negative energy, he just has no interest in bonding with the rest of the team. 
((He had people. He had people and he lost people. Kel doesn’t want any new people))
There is only one thing that gives him a tiny amount of hope. When he’s 16, he finds out Sunny is moving. He takes the last meagre amount of will he has and knocks on Sunny’s door. For the first time...Sunny answers. 
Those three days bring Kel back to who he used to be. Running around town with Sunny, solving problems, even fighting feels good. It’s like a dream. First he gets Sunny back, then Hero, and then even Aubrey. Falling asleep in Basil’s house that last night is the first time Kel sleeps soundly. Everything is going to be okay now, he’s sure of it. 
Then he wakes up in the middle of the night. 
He hears someone crying. His heart drops. He moves out of the living room and sees Aubrey collapsed on the floor and Hero standing in the doorway of Basil’s room. Kel peeks around him. 
Basil is dead in his room. Kel looked inside, and he had to go into the bathroom and throw up afterward. That night is long, but the morning is worse. Kel and Hero walk back home together, and as they round the corner to their house, they see a familiar sight
Ambulances and police cars surround the house next to theirs. When Mari died they created a blue and red halo around the house. The same halo is around it now. Hero goes to talk to one of the officers milling about, but Kel goes into the house. He doesn’t need any confirmation to know Sunny killed himself. Of course Sunny killed himself. 
After that any part of Kel that still had hope is permanently snuffed out.
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College!AU headcanons for the 104th
masterlist
Eren Jaeger:
Degree: some sort of humanities subject. I’m torn between history and geography (I can see him only going though because of pressure from his dad/Zeke because they both went so he feels like he has to.)
Would definitely get some tattoos whilst at uni as well as growing his hair out (”haircuts are too expensive for college students.”)
Needs coffee every morning else he feels like death (pulls way too many all nighters to get work done - Mikasa is not happy with this habit.)
Probably wakes up 10 minutes before a lecture and just legs it - he sets alarms but he tells everyone they never go off (he’s lying he presses snooze every time.)
Mikasa Ackerman:
Degree: languages !! Which ones though I’m not sure? I feel like she’s a polyglot so would already be fluent in French and Spanish so would chose to have a degree in one of them alongside something more challenging - maybe Russian or Japanese ??
Would maybe join a creative writing/poetry society, she likes to write in her spare time as a way of expressing her emotions as she finds opening up a bit of a struggle.
Before going to college, she’d take a gap year to do some travelling. Has all of her adventures written down in a diary that she often reads once she starts college.
The queen of houseplants. She has so many, they all have names and she’d never dream of letting any of them die.
Armin Arlert:
Degree: astrophysics or marine biology (I know Armin loves the ocean but he is also a space nerd don’t argue with me) BUT another option could be artificial intelligence ?? He just thinks it’s interesting.
Loves a good group study session. He finds he takes in information better if he talks to people about it and tries to explain concepts (be warned if you ever ask Armin about his subject - you will be there for hours.)
Probably the only person who does all the reading for his subject PLUS the additional reading. He doesn’t even see it as a chore because he likes to know as much as he possibly can !!
Would suggest that everyone in his lectures makes a group chat where they can send notes, thinking that other people will send theirs so he can make sure he got all the info down - nope everyone is just stealing your notes Armin I’m sorry.
Jean Kirstein:
Degree: could definitely see him studying modern history with politics, don’t ask me why I just see it.
Left handed, he knows the struggle of writing something only for it to be smudged seconds later and his hand covered in ink
Will pull out his guitar at any given opportunity. The king of playing wonderwall (it’s a crowd favourite and everyone ends up singing.)
You know Jean is stressed if he’s rubbing/touching his face a lot - and drinking lots of black coffee (he doesn’t like the taste but thinks he’s cool and tough for drinking it.)
Sasha Braus:
Degree: culinary science.
Never has a pen. If you sit next to Sasha in a lecture she will always ask for a pen (a pen which you will never see again I’m sorry - in fairness, you won’t want it back because she’s chewed the ends of it.)
If you have a shared living arrangement with Sasha you have been blessed. She loves to cook !! (Kinda a given with what she’s studying) and is always willing to make dinner for everyone (she will make a mess though so be prepared to do the cleaning up afterwards.)
I can definitely see her joining the choir or even being in a musical theatre production! She’s a great singer, albeit not the best dancer but she has the energy and spirit and that’s what’s important.
Connie Springer:
Degree: something like hospitality and tourism (he’s got such amazing people skills! he would be great at this and has the right energy for it.)
This boy would live on instant noodles if it wasn’t for him sharing a place with sasha. and the most erratic eating schedule (“what do you mean I can’t eat breakfast at 3pm??”)
Has a massive crate of energy drinks from cosco. Goes through said crate way faster than should be humanly possible.
His laptop is covered in stickers (many are random ones he’s collected and slapped on but he got some of Sasha and Jean making stupid faces that he put on there too - Sasha found this hilarious, Jean was not impressed.)
Marco Bodt:
Degree: English language with drama.
Musical !! Theatre !! Society !! This man is a triple threat, but honestly he prefers to be part of the chorus because he doesn’t like the pressure and stress of having a main part.
The best person to have with you on a night out. You’re throwing up? Marco will hold your hair back. You need a lift home? If sober he’ll take you and if he’s been drinking he will get you a taxi and come with to make sure you get back safe. An absolute angel <3
The most likely person to become an RA. He also volunteers to help with many of the events on campus and would probably be part of the student association committee.
Historia Reiss/Christa Lenz:
Degree: she seems like a psychology gal to me. Probably would take psychology as a degree and then would go on for a masters in something more specified like educational psychology.
You know she’s got a stationary set up to die for. highlighters in every colour, all of her notes written in gorgeous handwriting, her desk is super organised !!
You’d never see this girl going to a lecture or seminar in casual clothing - she’s always dressed up even if the rest of the students are in what looks like what they wore to bed the night before.
Likes to take the lead in group projects. Can’t stand missing deadlines so is very organised (has a very cute diary too where she writes important stuff down.)
Ymir:
Degree: sociology or philosophy.
Definitely a last minute assignment writer, will always ask to borrow notes because she didn’t do the reading.
Sells stuff on depop as a way of making money through college. she makes badges and well as some really cool resin earrings (proudly worn by her gf Historia.)
Sits all the way at the back of the lecture hall so she can go on her phone (to message Historia obvs.)
Bertoldt Hoover:
Degree: film studies with English language
I can see him being a techie for the theatre at his uni. he does the lighting and sound for the annual musical !! (trips over cables and bangs his head on lighting bars all the time but still loves doing it.)
Because of his degree, likes to hold film screenings for his friends. In another post I hc that Reiner won’t shut up during movies and Bert is probably the only person who can deal with Reiner’s constant commentary.
Drank for the first time in college and did not enjoy the experience. He’s definitely a puker and has decided instead he will be the big brother friend and make sure everyone gets home safety and will watch the drinks whilst they go dance.
Reiner Braun:
Degree: some sort of engineering (I’m thinking chemical??)
Becomes a bit of a gym rat once getting to college. Also joins a lot of societies because he likes to be sociable and will often drag Bert along too (why can I see these two going to like ping pong club or something. whoever loses has to buy the takeout that night.)
Is going broke because of his daily caramel frappchino from starbucks (all the baristas know him by name.)
Okay but Reiner owning a motorbike ?? Sign me up. He’s the coolest kid on campus.
Annie Leonhardt:
Degree: biochemistry.
Annie isn’t much of a social person and keeps her circle small, but she realises things are going to be pretty boring if all she does is stay in her room, so she ends up joining the girls soccer team.
A very tidy person to live with. will probably tidy up after everyone because she cannot stand the mess - but be warned if this happens all the time she’s not afraid to confront her roommates about it.
If she’s stressed about assignments, her sweet tooth comes out big time. her biggest guilty pleasure is white chocolate and she always has a bar before an exam or a big essay is due.
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