#and if we’re ever able to expand you can bet we’ll be shouting from the rooftops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsfromhome · 3 years

Text

Nuclear Family V

Part Five: Some Things Never Change

A/N: I’ve reread and rewrote and finally wrapped this up! It got really long because I didn’t want to drag it into another part, but I did include an epilogue--I couldn’t help myself. Hope it lives up to the expectations! And thank you x100000 again for reading along <3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

---------------

The next morning, we sit down together and soothe Charlie's worries. Harry holds my hand at one point and we play the best acting gig either of us have ever played as we pretend there's not a ginormous unspoken trilogy between us. Charlie's tentative at first, but when Harry pulls her onto his knee and whispers something to her. She breaks into a giggle and hugs him. At least that was patched over, I think. But when Harry meets my eyes over her head, I look away. Some things might never be patched over.

I’d set up a play date this morning, thinking Charlie might have needed a distraction. It also gave me time to pack our things without her to distract me or feel the emotional baggage I was packing up too.

I had planned to find an air bnb, waking up at 7am to start searching. But when I updated Marc after he asked what I was doing that evening, he insisted we stayed with him. We’d lived together before, and he was almost always at work, so it gave us enough space.The best part was he lived in the same building as Harry; it was almost too perfect, and when I’d asked Charlie she was totally on board. Spending time with Marc while being able to take the elevator to see her dad sounded just sounded like her play place had expanded.

After Charlie leaves, and I’m almost done packing, I look for Harry to talk. I find him toweling his hair after his shower. He had to head out for shooting today so I needed to speak to him before he left or else he would think I slighted him. He notices me in the foggy mirror and turns, and I try not to find the towel tied around his waist distracting.

“Hey, so...I’ll be out of your hair today...no pun intended.” I laugh lamely after he continues to stare at me blankly. Okay, maybe his towel was more distracting than I’d like to admit. And this was an awkward conversation when we had so many unspoken things between us. “Um, so I found other accommodations finally. So we’ll move out and it’ll be like we planned initially?”

“Huh?” Harry freezes, arms in midair.

“I don’t know why it took me this long to find another place,” I blabber on. “But I think yesterday was kind of a wake up call? I shouldn’t have stayed this long anyway and-”

“Wait, Y/N, stop. You’re leaving?”

“Just the flat,” I finally look at him, he looks stony. “We’ll actually just be a few floors down staying with Marc, so it’s kind of perfect.”

“Marc?” A flame lights itself in his eyes, usually the colour of a spring field, they’ve now turned into a field of ashes as he realises what I’m saying. “You’re moving out? To Marc’s? Because of yesterday?”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.” I try to remain calm, but it’s hard when he’s acting like this. “Harry, yesterday just made me realise I’d lost sight of the horizon or whatever. We were never supposed to live with you for this reason! We knew when we planned this that it would complicate things. I was just so obsessed with making Charlie’s birthday perfect I didn’t look for anywhere else, and her birthday was basically disastrous so that was useless. Now you can live freely, Miranda can come and go-”

“Oh and living with Marc won’t confuse Charlie?” Harry demands.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what that mean Y/N. You’re being a bloody hypocrite-”

“What?!” I can’t keep the calm anymore. “I’m a hypocrite?”

“Yes! You! You think Charlie seeing Miranda and me together would confuse her yet you’re taking her to your boyfriend’s house-”

“Who said anything about my boyfriend--and how dare you sound so judgemental about that! Sorry I didn’t get the memo; Harry can have a girlfriend but Y/N can’t! She’s got to be the single virgin mother all by herself!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“No, I think it’s what you were trying to say! Being so fucking judgemental about my love life. This isn’t my fault! I’m not asking you shit, Harry!”

“What the fuck Y/N!” Harry whips the towel he was using for his hair onto the ground. My heart beats erratically in my chest; the last time we fought like this it was because I’d told him I was pregnant and it had ended really ugly. But the way he got under my skin, as hard as I wanted to be the mature one, I couldn’t. “You don’t have to be so bloody sarcastic all the time! I just don’t understand how living with Marc will be any better!”

“Marc’s barely every home, and he’s lived with us before, it’s worked out fine. Charlie adores him-”

“Oh yeah I bet she does! You would’ve loved it if Marc was her father yeah? He’s always had a thing for you, even when we were together. Now’s your chance to be a perfect little family with Marc!”

“I did not say that, don’t put words in my mouth-”

“Oh, but I think that’s what you were trying to say,” Harry mocks me. He’s a ball of rage as he stalks towards me. “I don’t understand your obsession with this guy and why he’s so close to Charlie!”

“You know Marc! We’ve been friends with him for-wait why am I defending myself? This isn’t about that!”

“Well I think it should be!”

“Where are you going with this Harry?!” I shout, putting my hands out to his chest as he continues walking towards me, as if maybe I could shield myself from his growing fury. “I don’t want to fight! I’m just trying to do what’s best for Charlie. And for us.”

We stare at each other, uncomfortably close, chests heaving as the fire crackles low.

“Well, too late for that.” He says, but the snark is gone. “I’ve finally got Charlie living with me and you’re taking her away.”

“I-I’m not taking her away.” My voice rises immediately. “Don’t you dare say I’m taking her away!”

“You are!” He says stubbornly.

“What the fuck do you expect? You want me to stick around so it’s you, me, and Charlie? You want me to stay here and be miserable, have our kid be confused about what’s going on with who?”

“I don’t want you to be miserable, I just want us in one place!”

“We’re not this perfect little nuclear family you have in your head! We can’t be!”

“Not when you’re bringing the nuclear into the family,” Harry mutters immaturely.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?!” I want to pull my hair out.

“What’s wrong with me is you’re taking away my daughter from me!”

My blood was just boiling now. I get in his face, “Harry, do you not remember that you never wanted us? You had the option to stay with me, while I was pregnant with Charlie. You had the option to hold your daughter the day she was born. You could’ve had all of it. Every step of the way! You chose not to, you let me go, you-you told me I could go...” I break off suddenly, so I didn’t sob as the memories rush back. I told everyone I was over it, I had processed it. But when Harry rejected me, he also rejected Charlie and I never got over that.

Harry hears my breath hitch, he backs away from my outstretched hands and I let them drop.

After a heavy silence, Harry speaks up: “Y/N I’m sorry. I heard what you said yesterday. I was up all night just thinking about it...”

“Well that’s wonderful for me,” I retreat into the comfort of sarcasm.

“No--you were right, I didn’t want commitment. I was bloody afraid of it. I was listening to everyone who said if I had a kid, my career would be over. I wanted to stay young, and I just let you deal with it by yourself. I was selfish and I wish I could go back and change everything.”

“Well that’s not much help now; you never once said any of this to me! You moved on--don’t deny it. I saw you in the tabloids, the media. You don’t think I kept track of you? I loved you! You’re the father of my kid, and while I was up on less than an hour of sleep trying to get your 2 month old to stop crying at 3am, you were out partying with models and getting smashed.”

“I couldn’t-I just spiraled-”

“Well it’s nice that your spiraling looks so much like partyingl” I roll my eyes. “Mine looked like crying in the bathtub with my ears ringing, and covered in baby vomit.” I cross my arms. I had held it in for four long years, it was about time I snapped, and I guess this was it.

“Y/N.” he turns away from me, rubbing his face. When he turns around, his heart is on his sleeve. “There were so many times I would pick up my phone and type in your number, just to hear your voice. Just to ask you about Charlie--it ripped me apart that I wasn’t there. That you weren’t here, with Charlie. You’d send me pictures of her and I would get so excited to see what she was up to, what new thing she learned...”

He breaks off, his face now shining with tears. He walks up to me and holds my hands, my heart tugs and I know I’m crying too. “Y/N when I held her for the first time when she was a few months old, and she looked up at me and smiled. I didn’t even know I could love like that. So I changed Y/N--tell me you saw me doing anything reckless after that first visit. I made sure I grew up so I could always be there for her. And you. But you never talked to me. You were always so cold to me and I was scared to break the ice. So I just let you raise her without me, not realising what I was missing out on. I fucking missed all of it because I was just trying find the perfect words to get this off my chest and I never found them.”

“Harry-” I sigh. “You could’ve tried. But...you moved on though. You have a girlfriend-”

“I had to try to move on,” he explains urgently. “You barely spoke to me. I’d ask how you are and you wouldn’t always reply, our texts were only about Charlie. You never invited me over when I was in LA. I thought you didn’t care about me so I had to move on, and the way we ended things I didn’t blame you! I let you know I would be there for Charlie--but I had to move on because I didn’t think we would ever have another shot.”

“I didn’t know what to say to you when you came over Harry. The way we left things before I moved back home, It was awful.” I whisper. The words he’d said, the things I said, the broken glass and just hours of fighting. Then the panic attacks and crippling fear of not knowing what I was doing with my life. It was easy to let it harden you, rather than invite it back in.

“The way I let you leave...was awful.” He agrees. “So I’m asking you now to stay Y/N.”

“And do what?” I ask, didn’t he get it? “Sit around while your girlfriend is over all the time, have her pop in with her own key while I’m only just woken up looking like a troll? Let you kiss me in the dark when she’s not around? Have her ignore me like I’m not even there?”

Harry has the decency to look embarrassed, dropping my arms. He sighs, and looks at me with regret. “This is balls up.”

“Yeah, I know Harry. That’s why I’m finding other accommodations.”

“I don’t like it’s with Marc.”

“I don’t care Harry, you don’t have any say over who I stay with.”

“But Charlie-”

“She can stay with you when she wants,” I agree. “I know you’ve got a shoot all week so it’s a good week to be out.”

“I like coming home to you two.”

“Harry,” I warn him. He couldn’t afford to speak like this when he had a girlfriend. I didn’t want to fall for him again. He made it hard not to.

“I don’t like it but I can’t stop you.” He concedes, arms crossed over his chest. I skim over the bare flesh, taking in the ink that Charlie loved to ask a million questions about. He notices me looking and I catch the cocky grin on his face.

“I’m looking at the ink,” I say, even though I didn’t have to defend myself.

“I know,” he shrugs but the grin stays on his face. I roll my eyes and head back to finish packing but he pulls me back to him and suffocates me against his bare chest. “I’m sorry, for then. For now. Forever.”

He lets me go but he keeps his arms around my waist. I look up at him and for the first time in a long time, I see my old Styles. Confident, determined, and a little cocky. The one I fell hard for.

“Noted,” I say, not giving in this easily, I still had to process this whole conversation and figure out what this thing between Harry and I meant.

A low chuckle bursts out from him as he stares down at me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I’m right here,” I say, stepping back so he lets me go. I leave him with a smile on his face, not ignoring the way he said he misses me. Without even realising it, my feelings of resentment had begun to slip away. But I still knew space would be best for both of us.

***

It’s Thursday evening, Charlie was with Harry having dinner at his mum’s place. Marc’s edition is officially in printing and he’s home at a decent enough hour that I put aside my work and share a glass of wine with him.

“Sounds intense,” Marc says to me after I give him the details of mine and Harry’s fight. Since then, we’d have breakfast as a family once but I did text him beyond just talking about Charlie. Pictures, memes, old memories, the occasional pointless text. It was sort of nice having him in my life again.

Charlie was going to work with him tomorrow, and she was so excited about that. It gave me time for alone time, and to catch up with Marc.

“It was intense, it felt like the old Y/N and Harry.”

“Uh oh. I don’t miss them,” Marc huffs. “You’re a lot nicer now, and he’s not as much of a cocky bastard anymore.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.” I tease. But he was right, back then I was young and sassy and I wasn’t afraid to let the world know. Marc and I had met when he reached out to me to write an article for his magazine and it was a coincidence that Marc and Harry knew each other from cover shoots. Marc used to be a photographer.

“I like this Y/N better,” Marc leans into me, his voice deepening. “She’s kind and strong and gorgeous, and the best part is she lets me kiss her.”

He pauses in front of my face and I lean the rest of the way in to let him know he could. That’s all the signal he needs. Our drinks abandoned, we quickly move into the bedroom and I can’t believe I forgot how good it felt to be wanted like this.

***

The next time I’m in Harry’s flat, I’m picking Charlie up. She stayed with him, but Miranda had surprised him by showing up early right after her flight landed. His short text made me get up there right away, after what happened the last time Charlie saw Harry and Miranda together, I wasn’t sure if she would misbehave.

But oddly, she’s mostly quiet.

“Did you have fun?” I ask Charlie, as she eats her cereal slowly. Her back is to the hall Harry stands in and it was a good thing as Miranda drapes herself across him. Unfortunately, I had to see it; I guess she got the memo that Charlie knew what was going on, and she was okay with it--or as okay as a four year old could be.

“It was so cool mom,” Charlie says. “There was so many rooms and one was space! It had the moon and there was a castle and they made the explosion sound and...” Charlie explains in no sensible order everything she saw at the studio, and I listen to her spill out her excitement but every so often my eyes drift to where Miranda shamelessly reunites with Harry. It makes my stomach turn. Especially after the conversation we had. I wasn’t an idiot, I knew Harry wasn’t going to rearrange his whole life because we’d finally had the Talk about what happened between us all those years ago. It was just watching them, and knowing that that was Harry moving on. From me...when I never fully moved on from him. It was pathetic, I know.

“Have you had coffee yet?” Harry asks a little while later after he’s unhooked Miranda’s claws from him and made his way to the kitchen. Charlie is slowing down her speech but when Harry appears she launches into more questions about set and when his “movie” would come out (it was a music video).

“No, I saw your text as soon as I woke up.” I say, between Charlie’s breaths. IT seemed she was going to be a while. “I could use a cup.”

“I heard you’re staying with Marc,” Miranda suddenly comes up and sits at the table, addressing me. “He’s a nice guy, I’ve worked with him in the past. Easy on the eyes too.”

“I’m right here,” Harry holds up my empty cup and looks pointedly at her. She winks and I nearly vomit.

I smile instead, “Yeah. He’s a really good friend, and Charlie loves him. And he lives downstairs so it worked out really well.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. This was the most she’s said to me since she got here. I watch as she glances at Harry who’s making my coffee the way I like it. “I heard you two are really good friends.”

Yeah...” I didn’t like what she was insinuating. I look up at Harry but he’s suddenly very interested in the sugar. “I can do that.” I grab it from him and make sure to glare at him as he passes it to me.

“We should do like, a double date.” She suggests. “Harry, don’t you think that would be fun? You and me, Y/N and Marc?”

“What about me?” Charlie pouts.

“You and Gemma!” Harry looks at me. “I forgot to mention, Gemma wanted to take Charlie out, spend some time with her while she was in London.”

“Perfect!” Miranda sounds almost too excited. It makes me suspicious.

***

When I tell Marc about the double date, he’s more than eager to attend. I know he just wanted to annoy Harry. I was nervous what this all meant.

But somehow I find myself standing with Marc in front of the restaurant while I try to prepare myself for whatever the evening held for us. Marc eventually just grabs my hand, winks, and pulls me in even though I wanted to just stay outside for a bit longer. Maybe a lot longer. Maybe just never go in.

As dinner goes on, things grow more and more awkward. Miranda is chatting up Marc about their old shoots, Harry grows more irritated as Marc receives all the attention, and his eyes track Marc’s hand any time it’s near me. I knock back my wine, as does Harry. Miranda continues to chat up Marc, and I inhale the food when it finally comes simply because the whole situation was stressful.

“The food’s good here,” I comment but only Harry hears me over the other conversation at the table.

“I always wanted to take you here,” Harry comments. “It has the best victoria sponge I’ve ever had.”

“You know I hate victoria sponge,” I scrunch my nose.

“I know!” Harry laughs which seems to get the table’s attention. His laugh usually did, as I’ve said. “That’s why you have to try it, you’ll finally like it.”

“Like what?” Marc asks.

“Victoria sponge,” I cringe visibly which makes him laugh.

“I think she loves cheesecake too much, right?” I know Marc is remembering the night I came to his house after a big fight with Harry, he’d bought a cheesecake for his then-girlfriend but I’d cried into it and finished the whole thing in one sitting. He’d had to improvise with cupcakes the next day. I still feel bad about that.

“Y/N is a cheesecake fanatic,” Harry says a little aggressively.

“Cheesecake’s way too fattening,” Miranda says absentmindedly, not realising what she was implying.

When the table grows awkwardly silent, Harry tries to come to her rescue. “That’s when you know it’s good food.”

“Touche,” I tip my glass just to have an excuse to have something to do and...well, drink.

At the end of the night, Harry asks if we want to go back to his place. I say no as Marc says yes and because he had the louder voice that’s what we do. I shoot him a dirty look but he only winks at me. He was having way too much fun.

Harry excuses himself and joins us in the Uber late. In his hands is a box with victoria sponge.

***

“Do you think he knows I’m not your boyfriend?” Marc asks later that night. We’d drank another bottle of wine and everyone was a bit more...vocal than before. What started out as fun stories from our younger days, quickly turns into passive aggressive comments as Harry stared a hole at Marc’s hand on my thigh, and Miranda stared at Harry staring at Marc’s hand on my thigh. She’d asked to speak to him midway through and now they were arguing in another room where every so often we caught some of their argument.

“You can’t even take your eyes off..............a bloody cake? You didn’t even think to.........I don’t get it!” That was Miranda.

“Thinking too much..........stop........of course I love you.......Charlie’s mom!” and that was Harry.

“I just knew this dinner would go like this,” Miranda says loudly.

“So you’re testing me now?”

“Yes Harry, that’s obvious isn’t it Y/N?” Marc comments beside me.

“You’re having too much fun,” I lean my head back and sigh against the headrest.

“I have a stressful job, I don’t go out often. Can you blame me for being mildly entertained here?”

“Ugh...yeah okay me too.” I look over at him and he laughs. I hated the tension it was causing between Harry and I but I couldn’t help the small petty satisfaction of showing Miranda up after she tried to steal the show at dinner tonight. “What happened to the flight attendant you were seeing?”

“She took a flight out of London and never called me back?”

“Poor you,” I pat his shoulder. “We’re just not cut out for relationships are we?”

Marc shakes his head solemnly. I sigh, the alcohol making me more melodramatic than I was. “We’re finding my ex and his girlfriend arguing, entertaining. Who am I?”

“This is why we get along,” Marc leans into me, he smelled good. “Two boring people, getting our petty kicks with other people’s drama.”

“I think this is kind of my drama too,” I groan.

"Then I guess it’s kind of my drama too,” Marc says happily.

“You’re serious,” I say, leaning my head back against the sofa again, too tired to say anything else.

“I always have your back,” Marc says and I open my eyes just as he nuzzles a kiss against my exposed neck, and Harry walks into view.

“Harry,” I sit up and Marc jolts up as I nearly knock my head into his. Harry looks roughened up, his hair lays every which way as if he ran a rake through it. His face is flushed yet he stares at Marc like he wants to pop his head off.

“I’m really sorry, I’m going to have to call it a night. Miranda is...we have to talk and-”

“Yep, yep, we’re out.” I don’t need to be asked twice. Neither does Marc. Marc heads immediately to the door but I pause by Harry.

“Sorry...” he apologizes again. He looks like a lost puppy which is what makes me press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Gemma is dropping Charlie off around noon.”

“Okay,” Harry looks over my head to Marc, who is opening the door to give us some privacy. He looks back at me, searching my face for something. “I didn’t want the evening to end like this, it’s just...complicated.”

“I get it,” I cut him off, and more gently say again, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes please,” he mumbles. Even though Harrys’ done this to himself, I can’t help but feel a little bad. I pat his arm and turn to head out with Marc. Harry could get himself out of the mess if he wanted.

***

I don’t hear from Harry the next morning, before I pick up Charlie, he leaves me a cryptic text that we should probably not go over today. Charlie and I spend the day exploring London some more instead, although she’s tired in a few hours so we end up picking up Marc after work and enjoying dessert by the river.

I still hear nothing on Saturday morning, Charlie asks about Harry and I lie saying he way busy. It’s only around noon that a haggard Harry shows up at Marc’s door. I was helping load the dishwasher so Marc answers the door. It’s the loud shout from Charlie that alerts me to the guest.

I pass Marc on my way to the door, he just raises his eyebrows to say yikes and it’s an understatement when I see him. Messy hair, a five ‘o clock shadow, and he looks like he hadn’t slept.

“You look...rough.” I say while Charlie sits on his back. I almost want to tell her to be fragile with him with the way he looked.

“It’s been a rough couple days.” He comments, his voice scratchy. “I need to talk to you.”

“Charlie, love, go inside for a bit? I’ve got to speak with your dad.”

“Aww,” she moans as Harry helps her dismount.

“I’ll play with you later little monkey,” Harry tickles her and she squeals as she runs away. His eyes follow her with a smile.

“So...” I step into the hall, tilting the door behind me.

“I think Miranda and I broke up.”

“Ah,” that made sense. “What happened?”

“She...it’s so complicated. Why are women so complicated?”

“Woman here,” I point to myself and raise an eyebrow. He shakes his head and sighs.

“Apparently she...set up that double date so I could see you’d moved on. Except, according to her, the way I was acting made her realise she was never going to measure up to you. She...she wanted me to choose between you and her, I told her...” he gulps, leaning against the opposite wall for some support. “It wasn’t the same. You were Charlie’s mum, we would always be in each other’s lives. She made her peace with it but this morning when I woke up I don’t know...I don’t know what I said. She was just gone. She isn’t answering her phone. I thought we were okay, we made up yesterday but today...I don’t know.”

“Wow,” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t think she would actually ask him to choose. And now she went AWOL. “Do you know where she might be?”

“I went to her place, her roommate said she thought she was with me. I just don’t want her to do anything rash.”

“Sorry, Harry.” I look him over, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Before I could say anything more, Charlie zips outside with the drawings she had done at the museum. She just wanted his attention, and as he takes them from her he smooths his face over and gives her all the excited feedback she wanted. I slip inside and tell Marc we might head up for a bit.

Harry hesitates before letting us in. The place was a mess. Things are strewn about everywhere. A broken lamp sits near the entrance.

“Woah,” I say.

“Woah” Charlie echoes me with more emphasis.

“Ehm,” Harry scratches his head. “I...was trying to find something.”

“You shouldn’t be so messy dad,” Charlie immediately begins walking to her room, like she always belonged here. A small part of me is already sad for when we had to leave.

“Sorry love,” Harry cracks a grin and we exchange a glance.

“D’you need help...?”

“No, come sit. I’ll pour us a drink.”

We sit in the kitchen, sipping our wine in silence. Charlie plays with her toys in the back, a comforting background noise.

I reach my hand out eventually and brush Harry’s hand on the countertop. He looks over at me, zoning back into the present. His smile is small and sad, dimmed and broken like his lamp. I thread my fingers through his and squeeze for comfort. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it and I try not to look as affected by it as I feel. He lets go after he kisses it.

“Thanks for being cool about this, I didn’t know who to go to.”

He looks so lost, and upset. I want to comfort him but there are no words I can say to do that. I open my mouth to try to say something anyway, but the familiar sound of his front door opening interrupts me before I can.

“Harry?” Miranda’s distinct voice carries over. Harry shoots out of his chair and goes to meet her. I watch on, out of view as she hugs him and apologises. “I just needed to clear my head. Then I got a taxi and ended up near my mum’s. I think I drank too many mimosas. I don’t know Harry, I brought an apology drink...”

She trails off as she spots Charlie laying down with her toys. She looks towards the kitchen and I look away quick enough to not see if she’d seen me or not.;

“I didn’t realise you had...guests.” She says slowly, slower, I can tell her words slur together. She really did have too much to drink.

“My...Charlie came up, her mum’s just in the kitchen.” Harry says, his words loaded with unspoken meaning.

“Oh. So I leave for a few hours and you invite them back.” My eyes bug out as I realise Miranda was planning on rehashing it right here. I get up and move towards Charlie but unfortunately I have to pass by them to get there.

“I was supposed to see Charlie yesterday, I didn’t know where you went! You weren’t picking up I just invited them up-”

“My phone died!” Miranda pushes Harry away and I move quicker towards Charlie, urging her to go play in her room but she stays on the floor stubbornly.

“Miranda please love, let’s not start this here again. Charlie-”

“What about me Harry? I haven’t gotten any attention from you for weeks! I thought we agreed yesterday-”

“They’re just here for the month! I never get to see her Miranda stop being unreasonable.”

“I don’t know why I thought coming back here was a good idea!” Miranda shouts. I pull Charlie up but even she’s frozen in spot watching Miranda. “You’re just never going to love me the way I want to are you? I’m never going to compare against...her. Them. Whatever!”

Harry tries to soothe her but she throws him off again, dropping her bottle to the floor with a thud. She turns to me while I back away to the bedroom with Charlie. “This is what you wanted isn’t it? Him all to yourself? This is why you came here all along? I bet your air bnb didn’t even have a bloody issue! He never wanted you in the first place! Newsflash: he has a girlfriend! Me! Not you-”

“Miranda! Enough.” Harry says and she shuts up. I scoop Charlie up and take her to the room but she starts crying because she dropped Oreo in the living room. I go back for it and Miranda is shouting at Harry, either she was too drunk to care or she was at the end of her stick. Or both. But when she starts to swear Harry tries to move her outside.

“It’s not like she can hear over how loud she’s fucking crying!” Miranda shouts. She really was having this breakdown here, but I pause. I wasn’t okay with her talking about Charlie like that, and I watch as Harry freezes over as he feels the same way.

“Miranda. That’s enough.” He says seriously.

“I’ve had enough Harry,” she’s on the verge of tears. I shuffle back to the bedroom and quiet Charlie down but as soon as she does the shouting gets loud enough that we can hear.

“Why is she yelling at dad?” Charlie asks, her nose red from crying.

“She’s...upset.” I say lamely.

“She shouldn’t yell at him,” she says quietly.

“Sometimes, when you’re that upset it just feels like you have to yell. But you’re right, we shouldn’t yell at each other. They’ll be okay.”

Eventually they quiet down and I feel like a prisoner stuck in the room, wondering when it was okay to leave. Charlie feels the same way because she eventually opens the door when I’m distracted and heads out.

“Charlie,” I whisper from the room but she doesn’t come back. It’s oddly quiet out and when I peep through there’s nobody actually there. I strain my ears and maybe hear them in the bedroom. I guess he’d convinced her to move location.

There’s a feeling in my stomach, like a hard seed rooting in place and pulling up the dirt as it sprouts up into my chest. I suddenly just wanted to go home, back to LA. It felt so complicated here, and I know Charlie felt at home with her dad but I was just a traveler passing through here. London, felt like a home, but it wasn’t my home. And the feeling forces me to sit down on the edge of the couch. Charlie notices my expression and hovers nearby, eventually climbing up beside me and leaning her head on me. I pull her into me and try to work my way out of the funk I found myself in, turning on the TV just so I didn’t have to suffer in silence.

When Harry eventually comes out with Miranda, I’m making a snack for Charlie who stays seated in front of the TV, eyes glued to whatever was on. I try not to think too hard about why they both looked freshly showered, about what this meant for us all. Miranda sits on the couch and Harry hovers over them all watching. From my view in the kitchen, the feeling from before creeps back. Harry catches my eye just then and raises his chin, is everything okay. I smile reassuringly, it takes everything in me to fake it, before resuming my slicing.

I had to get over Harry, I think. On some level, I was still holding onto him and not dating anyone because I continued to compare everyone to how he made me feel. I was vulnerable living with him, I’d made up some version in my head of a family while I lived here and I watched Harry in his fatherly role. Some part of me hoped it would come true. But watching him with Miranda and Charlie like this, he didn’t need me. I was just a past dream, one that felt good to indulge in. Miranda was clearly his future.

“Charlie,” I call her name once I’ve cut up her snack. I stay in the kitchen, where I watch Harry touch Miranda’s shoulder reassuringly. I watch them make up and then watch as she leaves. Harry doesn’t once come into the kitchen, and I try not to show how gutted I feel.

***

I don’t hear from Harry for a few days. Charlie decided to sleep over for a few days, and I’m more than fine with it as I work to meet some upcoming deadlines. Marc pops in and out of his apartment, we have a few meals together but mostly I let myself get lost in my work. Charlie comes up every so often, but she spends most of her time with her dad. With only one week left here, I understand. I didn’t want to be around him, and make it harder for me to move on.

With less than a week to stay, Charlie asks me curiously as I put her to bed,

“Is Uncle Marc your boyfriend?”

“What?” I stare at her, where was that question coming from? Marc and I made sure to keep our distance whenever she was here. “Why would you ask something like that?”

“I dunno. Dad said you cared about Marc.”

“Dad said what?” I breath deeply. For someone who was calling me a hypocrite he outright told Charlie Marc was my boyfriend? “Marc and I are just good friends honey, like you and Carrie. I don’t know why your dad said that.”

“I like Uncle Marc,” Charlie says as she grows sleepy. “He’s nice.”

I grind my teeth, why would Harry say something like that?

I go back to the living room where I was working on an article, Marc sits opposite me working late too. But no matter how many times I read what I wrote, I can’t focus. My mind spins asking why Harry would tell Charlie something like that.

“Where are you going?” Marc asks as I get up suddenly.

“I’m leaving Charlie asleep here,” I pick my sweater off the couch and slip it on. “I need to talk to Harry.”

“It’s 12am,” Marc puts his laptop to the side. “Ohh I see. You don’t have to use code with me love.”

“What?” I’m confused but it clicks a moment later. “Marc don’t be so immature I just need to talk to him about something he said to Charlie.”

“I won’t wait up, don’t worry. Charlie’s fine here.” He resumes working on his laptop and I don’t even bother correcting him. I fly out of the apartment and up to Harry’s. I didn’t care if he was sleeping, I needed to speak to him. I do a quick knock before fiddling with my key, entering the space just as Harry comes into view.

“Y/N?” Harry’s sleepy face stares at me for a beat, his eyebrows furrowed. And suddenly faced with a shirtless Harry, I realise I could have walked in on him doing anything. I didn’t really think this through--Miranda could be over. Shit.

“We needed to talk,” I close the door behind me and stand up straight, ready to lay into him.

“Now?”

“Yes, now. It couldn’t wait.”

“Come in, I guess.” He steps back and I walk into a brighter space, he follows behind.

“Why would you tell Charlie that Marc was my boyfriend? Or we were seeing each other?” I jump right in.

Harry must still be sleep-confused because he sits down on an armchair and stares up at me trying to piece my sentence in his head. My hands on my hips are fists as I wait impatiently.

“I didn’t tell her he was your boyfriend.” He starts slowly. “She just asked why we weren’t hanging out like before and all these questions about--well you know Charlie. So I said it was complicated; we cared about each other but you cared about other people too like Marc.”

“Why bring Marc into this? She doesn’t know anything.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry gets defensive. “I was just trying to break it down to her.”

“So you brought Marc and me into her mind as someone I’m with--the reason why we weren’t hanging out like before? As if Miranda and you isn’t excuse enough?”

“Well, not anymore?” He squints up at me.

“Well...why not anymore?” I didn’t follow.

“Y/N...” He stares at me, searching my face as if I was lying but I don’t even know what I would be lying about. I raise an eyebrow. “Miranda and I broke up--that day you were here and she came in, we broke up, I thought you knew that. That’s why Charlie was staying with me for so long, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Y-you broke up?” I was stunned, the way it looked to me, they had made up. “Charlie knew?”

“I don’t know. She just thought Miranda wasn’t coming around. I don’t know if it was worth explaining to her.”

“Oh. Wow,” I sit down on the couch, digesting that Harry and Miranda actually broke up that day. All this time I thought he was quiet because they were back together, but he must have been getting over the breakup. And I didn’t even ask him how he was--he must think I was- “Harry I had no idea, I would’ve....done-or said something. If I knew. I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were just staying out of it,” Harry chuckles to himself. “I didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

“The breakup was so...civil. I couldn’t tell! Can you imagine if we broke up like that all those years ago?”

That makes Harry laugh. “Maybe we would have made up quicker.”

“Maybe,” I whisper, playing with the ring on my finger. My mind races as the last few days make a lot more sense. But the only question that lingers on my mind was, why Harry didn’t try to make his move. If all those words he said over the last few weeks were true--why didn’t he try to talk to me? The only thing I can come up with was that he wanted to stay friends. It would get too complicated. “Well, now that that’s cleared I should probably go.”

I stand up as Harry does. He clears his throat, looks up at me like he wants to say something. I wait a moment, and when he doesn’t the awkward starts to settle.

“Sorry for waking you,” I say, trying to signal that I was now leaving.

“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugs it off. “But...aren’t you mad that I told Charlie?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of,” I try to figure out where he’s going with this. “But, given your circumstances, I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Oh c’mon Y/N,” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Don’t give me that. I don’t need your pity-forgiveness.”

“Fine,” I cross my arms playing along. “If that’s what you want, I don’t forgive you.”

“Good. I want to earn my forgiveness.” Harry says, and it sounds like he’s saying one thing but meaning another.

“Okay well, I’ll think of something.”

“I can think of a few things,” he says with a twinkle. I can’t help the laugh that bursts out; he was making me nervous.

“Like what?” I impulsively ask, fuck it I tell myself. If I couldn’t flirt with my daughter’s single dad what was the point, right?

“Hm,” he takes the few steps between us and flashes me a charming smile. “I could get on my hands and knees and beg, or” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and his finger traces the curve of my ear down to my neck, his movements slow and his finger dipping borderline dangerous. “I hear jewellery can work.” he taps my chest but just as quickly his hand moves up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my lips, “or I can cook you your favourite meal and watch you enjoy it or...” I keep my eyes on him, trying not to give in, but as soon as he moves his hand up into my hair, I close my eyes without meaning to. He knew my favourite feeling was his fingers in my hair and even now, it was no different.

“Or what?” I whisper, eyes still closed, too afraid of what I’ll see if I open them.

“Look at me,” He whispers. I swallow, he says it again and I finally open my eyes. He’s not even hiding what he wants, but he is holding back. “I don’t want to force you into anything, I want you Y/N...but I know you’re with Marc so if you want me to stop I-”

“Harry,” I cut him off. Marc was right, he really didn’t know--that must be why he left me alone. And now in the midst of this heat, I had to tell him--I’d only played myself: “Marc and I aren’t together. We got together a few times but we were never actually...together.”

“Wait.” his hand leaves my hair and I want to snatch it back. He takes a step away, his eyes flitting at he thinks. “So this whole time?”

I shrug.

“This whole time, you just let me believe you and him...”

I try not to look too guilty as realization dawns on him. When he steps towards me again, his mouth is curved into a smile. And one might think it’s a nice smile, but the look in his eyes, I knew he was gearing up for something, because now he knows I let him believe Marc and I were going out on purpose. And I was going to pay.

“Okay, okay so I can explain,” I hold my hand out but he just keeps walking until I stumble back into the couch I just got up from. He leans over me, and a giggle bursts out from nervousness. “Harry really, I-”

“You let me believe,” he grabs the hand I have raised and envelops it in his, taking away my only defense. “That you were going out with Marc? just to bother me?”

“Well,” I’m at a loss for words as I look everywhere but at his face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“A little too well,” he murmurs. When I give in and look at him, I'm a goner.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “Really I-”

“You’re not getting away with it that easily.”

“What happened to forgiveness? We can mutually forgive!”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he says. Before I can respond he’s somehow managed to lift me up and sling me over his shoulder.

“This-Harry!” I try to wriggle out but his hands are iron clad on my legs. His apartment floats upside down as he carries me. “I’m sorry! C’mon! This is cruel and unusual punishment! I-”

The breath is knocked out of me as he lays me down on the bed, we look at each other for a moment and then his face cracks into a grin, “Last time I checked, you were into cruel and unusual punishment.”

I laugh, “That was four years ago love, a lot can change in 4 years.”

“Hm,” he leans over me and I crawl up the bed until my head hits the pillow, as he follows. “But some things never change, do they?”

“No,” I stare into his green eyes. They shine with unadulterated joy and adoration. My stomach swarms with butterflies like I’m a teenage girl, like I was Y/N so long ago, excited the hot guy from the party took me home. I hold his face in mine and kiss him with the same joy and adoration. “Some things never change.”

“I love you Y/N,” he says into my neck. I push him up to look at him, he says it again and I can’t stop grinning.

“Are you going to make me wait?” he raises an eyebrow. “Is that my punishment.”

I shake my head, “I think we punished each other enough the last few years.”

He nods in agreement, “That’s deep.”

“So’s my love,” I push the cheesiness which always got him to laugh. He laughs now too, and I feel the small thrill of being the one to do that. “I love you”

“Phew. Now let me kiss you,” he pulls my shirt off effortlessly and our lips meet in the middle, missing each other already.

And as we press into each other, relearning every inch of the other, catching up for all those silent years, we just fit together like we were absolutely made for each other. And truer words didn’t exist: some things never change.

Epilogue

#Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluf #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #dad!harry #writing #fanfic #harry styles series #here it is #finally #finished series

139 notes · View notes

wincestisasincest · 4 years

Text

The Green Book (Thorin’s Company x Reader, Part 1)

Hello all! This is something of a rewrite for an idea that I had when I was like, 13, but I started it and it was a hot pile of ass, so we’re taking another crack at it. Basically, sort of like how Bilbo and Fordo recorded everything in the Red Book of Westmarch, this is a book where (y/n) records all of her adventures after falling into Middle Earth.

I have no idea how long this is going to be, nor if there’s going to be any more specific pairings, so feel free to shoot me one if you’d like to see something play out!

A quick note! This story is in first person, not in second person, but it is still about the reader. It is the reader’s later account of their adventures. I’m sure you’re all smart people and can figure this out, but I wanted to make that clear.

Summary: (Y/n) falls into Middle Earth. Shocker. Somehow, she gets recruited to join a party of dwarves on their kinda crazy mission to reclaim their home of Erebor.

Part: 1

Words: 1593

Warnings: Plot clichés, getting lost, fainting

To whom it may concern: This book is a project by myself, (f/n) (l/n), to record an official account of both my voyage through the land of Middle Earth, how it intertwined with the quest to reclaim Erebor, and what happened in between. All information here has been directly experienced by me and has been corroborated by other living peoples in Middle Earth, which shall be credited in the after section if any reader seeks to verify.

I write you, the person reading my Green Book, this letter at the beginning of the book because I want to make clear my intention. While this book shall certainly be used for historical record, and I am honored to have it serve that purpose, that is not my primary intention in writing it. I feel that, in the case of historical record, we tend to miss out on a very important element in the stories of our ancestors. Their humanity.

Or dwarf-manity. Or hobbit-manity. Or wizard-manity.

The point is that I have scoured many manuscripts in my years, and all of them treat those of the past as though they are sculptures created purely of dates, epithets, and conquest, and that is simply not the case. The deeds of this company are not going to be forgotten for a long time, but their personality, individual quirks, fears, loves, hopes, dreams, and heart, may fade into obscurity as their time comes to an end.

That it what I wish to eliminate with this book. Above all else, I want you, the reader, not to remember them as historical icons, but as the caring, brave group of adventurers that I have come to love.

No, I cannot completely fix a disconnected view of the past, but I can sure try.

***********

I got my start in adventuring at the same time I got my start in Middle Earth. And both of them were complete accidents.

The land that I come from, just Earth, is wholly different from its Middle counterpart. There are no species besides that of the human race, which have ruled the planet for many centuries and divided into their own cultures with individual languages, practices, religions, and such. As humans are quite non-magical, however, this does also mean that there is no magic in this world. Instead, humans have conquered it through different applications of knowledge, through which they have created many a valuable devices that replace the need for magic. These devices may do things such as heal the sick, communicate over long distances, defend oneself, light up dark rooms, and so on.

The only common trait that it shared with its counterpart was that it had no idea that there was any Earth besides itself.

So, you can imagine that my stumble into Middle Earth was by no means intentional.

I was a dreamy young lady of (your age) years. I had things to do that would take up most of my day’s energy, but when I did have a minute of downtime or two, I could always be found wandering in the woods. Something in its peaceful nature, in which I could not hear the hustle and bustle of the rest of society, was very relaxing to me.

More often than not, I would recline on a large, flat rock deeper into the forest and go about leisure activities such as reading or drawing. Such leisure activities were exactly what I was occupied with on that very day that would change my life.

I looked up from the pages of a very gripping read at an odd sound coming from the woods. Now, the woods are full of odd sounds, and to try to put a name on all of them would do the terrain a disservice, but something in particular about this sound woke up something in me. My curiosity could only be quenched by an exploration.

The sound itself mirrored that of language, as though some mysterious force were whispering words but were hidden from sight, however, the words were not from any language that I understood or recognized. Even after I had come to learn of languages particular to the land of Middle Earth, such as Elvish and Khuzdul, I still cannot specifically attribute any one of them to this whispering.

I shoved everything that I was doing into my bright red backpack (or just pack, as they are more commonly called) and slid off my rock, walking towards the sound. One could almost say I was hypnotized, as it just dragged me in. Deeper and deeper I trailed into the woods.

At some point the whispering stopped, and I was snapped back to reality. I had completely lost track of time. I peered around, and realized that I could not recognize where I was. I whipped out my phone (a cellular device used for communication which I will expand on in later chapters) to check what time it was, only to be confronted with the fact that five hours had passed.

This news was even more distressing, because, if five hours had passed, then the sky should be occupied by the moon and not the sun. I ran the numbers in my head. I had been on the rock at about six, and my phone now read that it was eleven at night. But the birds still tweeted, and it was still sunny, as though it was but a pleasant afternoon.

I attempted to use my phone to possibly communicate with someone, or find out my location, but the technology failed. Resolving to save battery, I put it away and continued to observe my location. It did seem like this part of the world had been completely claimed by nature, with no sign of any sort of civilization in sight. I would’ve found it beautiful it it did not signal my possible demise.

In my world, a common piece of advice for those who are lost is to wait in one place. This advice is most commonly given when one is traveling with a group, which makes sense, as a group would not only quickly realize that you were lost, but could easily fan out to search for you, which would only be made easier if you were prevented from getting any farther from where you had strayed from.

However, I was not traveling with a group. I was alone. I quickly weighed the pros and cons of staying in once place, before deciding that, when combined with how big this forest apparently was, to how long it would take someone to realize I was gone, to how long it would take them to conclude that I was in the forest, to how long that it would take them to search the forest, to the fact that I had no concept of time anyway, that I would surely die before this technique yielded any results.

No, my best bet was to continue forward and hope to come across something eventually. If not civilization, then food or water. Either way, I would not die in the forest.

Gathering all my resolve, I continued to trek forward.

Slowly, but surely, night overtook this strange forest-land as well, and there was no sign of any civilization in sight. I had no food or water with me, which was only made clearer by my parched throat and growling stomach.

Against my terrible luck, a heavenly smell (or perhaps a nasty smell that simply came to me when I was hungry) wafted over the trees and to my location. I had no choice but to follow it.

It wasn’t something that I recognized, like beef or chicken, but was definitely a sort of meat. Regardless, I would eat anything at this point. My hope was only increased when I heard what sounded like conversations passing around a campfire. Perhaps, I thought, it was a group of campers that would be able to help out a very lost and confused traveller.

I grew more desperate. I pulled leaves and branches out of the way and nearly tripped over rocks. Though I still couldn’t make out the words that were being said, they sounded oddly aggressive and simplistic. It was intermixed with the neighing of horses, sounding very distressed, though my animalistic impulses at the time elected to ignore that.

“...and if it don’t look like mutton tomorra!” So that’s what the meat was. Mutton. That sounded delicious.

Finally, I could see the campfire peaking through the trees. I hopped out into the clearing, not even taking the time to think of what I would say or do, just following the food.

In front of me were three of the biggest and ugliest creatures that I had ever seen in my life. You and I now understand them as trolls, but I had never seen a troll before, though, if you had told me at the time that that’s what they were called, I would not be surprised. Their bodies were large and their heads were tiny, with layers and layers of fat making up their bulging stomachs, around which was a loosely tied loincloth. Whatever was under that, I didn’t want to think about. Their faces had crooked teeth, large noses, sloping foreheads, and very stupid looks plastered on them, though as it happened, all of those stupid looks were looking directly at me.

“Lads, we’re eating human tonight!” The middle one shouted gleefully, raising his arms and looking at me menacingly while getting up out of his chair.

I fainted on sight.

******

Ahhh, I just negged y’all. We’ll see the gang in the next chapter, don’t worry, but I gotta tease it first.

Next chapter will be out soon, by the way, because that’s what quarantine is for.

Also, if you’re interested, shoot me an ask/suggestion for what the reader has in her bag! I have a few ideas, but I’m really open to anything, whether it’s a specific book, a cool trinket, a sentimental object, whatever you guys have!

You can also shoot me pairings if you’d like though I may or may not have a very unpopular one in mind already

119 notes · View notes

d-pennants · 4 years

Text

Through the Moon Instagram Live

Partial transcript of the Instagram Live with Justin Richmond and Aaron Ehasz. It was only posted for 24 hours and a lot of stuff was talked about. I tried to copy the answers as close to what was actually said, but I won’t guarantee I didn’t mishear or miss stuff. I just focused on the stuff about tDP.

No S4 announcement today.

Do you have a favorite character? Are you allowed to play favorites? JR: Yeah. I definitely have characters that I like more than other characters, but I’ll never admit who they are. [laughs]

Fine, how about hints about S5 then?

AE: Justin and I were working on a scene this morning, a scene in which someone makes a sacred promise to Bait. Hope that’s not to big a spoiler.

[Explaining about Through the Moon which is out today (Oct 6th) Shout out to Xanthe Bouma & Peter Wartman, who will be there for the AMA on Friday. And shout out to the team at Scholastic.]

[Technical issues made the audio break up while JR was relocating. I couldn’t catch what the actually questions were for this little bit, but I caught some of the answers.]

Question about Zuko’s VA Dante Basco

AE: He’s amazing to work with. I’d definitely be happy to work with him.

Question about Callum’s Mage Wings

AE: I’d just get mage wing out even just to go to the bathroom at night if I were Callum.

Question about Runaan

AE: I don’t know. That’s a mystery. Runaan is certainly in the magical cursed coin in some form. But I don’t know what he’ll do or if he can survive it. But that’s a story we’ll be certain to tell.

[JR relocated & AE had to log out and rejoin, which fixed the issue.]

Are there other graphic novels coming? Is Through the Moon part of a series with an over arching plot?

JR: Hopefully yes. Hopefully we get to do some more with Scholastic. This is a standalone. It is part of the core story of the Dragon Prince. It counts as canon. But there’s not a sequel to Though the Moon.

AE: We would love to do more graphic novels. We are actively talking about and planning it. Definitely in the cards. But not necessarily an over arching story.

Asking about Janai’s brother?

AE: We’re going to find out about Janai’s brother for sure. He’s a really cool character, a lot of fun.

What do Moonshadow elves do during a full moon? Do they just become invisible.

AE: It’s not just invisibility. It is a stealth mode. I think we talk about it as like they’re almost partially slipping into a “Moon dimension” that partially obscures how visible they are. But also their physically is maybe changed at bit so they can partially materialize for a split instant to do damage, then they’re phasing out. I think they’re phasing in and out of some kind of Moon dimension. So it’s partially invisibility, but there’s also some defense and fighting stuff that happens.

What does Moonberry juice taste like?

AE: In my mind the things that are conjured are some kind of juice blend. Mulberry juice, pomegranate. Justin talked about a bit of cran involved? But I always think mulberries.

JR: Try mulberry juice. Mulberries have like the weirdest, coolest taste. If you haven’t tried it you should do it.

AE: Not ignoring S4 questions, but we just don’t have a good answer. We are working on it. But we don’t have a S4 date. We getting things moving in a good way and we’re excited but we won’t have the information on a date for S4. We really appreciate you being patient for that. Don’t have any age criteria that we can reveal right now.

Will there be outfit changes for the dragon squad?

JR: There’s already some in the graphic novel. Rayla gets some pretty great pyjamas.

AE: They’re just going to rotate outfits. They’re just gonna trade clothes. You should see how great Soren gonna looks wearing Claudia’s clothes. How Callum’s going to look squeezed into some of Ezran’s outfits. Everybody’s just gonna try on each other’s stuff.

JR: I like it. Too bad that actually 3D doesn’t work like that, where you just trade outfits. Because it’d be hilarious. Yeah, of course, people are going to change outfits. There’s going to be some cool new stuff to see. Absolutely going forward.

Is Callum close to obtaining any other arcanum / going to learn any other arcanum in the future?

JR: No spoilers, but there’s little bit of a hint of some of the answer to this in this graphic novel, so you should check it out. I don’t want to spoil anything. I think Callum fascinated by all the arcanum. He’s not just limiting his interest to Sky.

AE: If you’re a betting person, isn’t Callum’s going to be the first human archmage. A little bit trolling, but yeah, he loves magic. He’s fascinated. But he’s groundbreaking. He’s doing things humans haven’t done before and his potential is limitless. May not be S4, may be S17 at that point.

Will there there be more Sarai? I really want Callum and Ezran to visit her memorial statue.

JR: That would be a beautiful moment. That’d be great, that’d be pretty cool to see. There will be some more Sarai, we’ll find out more about their family. I’m not sure how much we’re aware, but Sarai is certainly not gone from the series. You’ll see Sarai again.

Is the Key of Aaravos actually the key of where he was imprisoned?

AE & JR: We can’t tell you.

JR: We don’t even know. We haven’t even discovered the answer yet.

AE: We know! Actually, that was one of the first things we knew at the very beginning. We’ll get to it.

Is the Sun arcanum the only one that can heal? Or maybe the Ocean arcanum can heal as well/or to?

AE: Great question. Yes. I suspect there are healing abilities possible through different primals. Ocean is a perfect example. I think it’s likely different kinds of healers that call on different energy to restore life and health to those who are injured or sick.

Could original characters introduced in the graphic novels potentially make it into the show?

JR: Absolutely. It’s a huge universe, so we won’t hold back if we think somebody from a graphic novel or the game will fit into the show in the right way, of course we would do that. One of the cool things about working with all the same team is that stuff like that can happen, because we can control all of it. Which is amazing. It’s a great feeling.

AE: There’s a character we’ve talked about for a while from the video game and recently that character finally had their moment in the show. We wanna see different ways to access the world and characters.

JR: Also we’re working with Fandom on a tabletop RPG so that can go another way. You can see characters coming into the show.

Do we have to read the graphic novel before we watch S4?

AE: I don’t think we should say too much. You don’t have too, but everything that happened in the graphic novel happened before S4, it really happened. So can probably infer some of it, but best experience will be read the graphic novel. Get yourself up to date.

How will Zym progress throughout the seasons? Will he grow up and learn to talk and how to manage his powers?

JR: I don’t want to say too much. Zym is going to grow along with the other characters. He’s not static. He’s a puppy, he’s a little baby, and he’s growing up.

AE: We’ll see Zym growing up more for sure.

Will there be more Gren content?

AE & JR: Yeah! [Laughing] AE: Of course. JR: How could there not be? AE: Didn’t we announce already that season 5’s Book 5: Gren? JR: Books 5 through 14 is all Gren. Then we’ll come back around to the other arcanum.

Will we ever get to see Ellis and Ava again?

AE & JR: Maybe? Probably. JR: Not 100%

How did the idea of making the graphic novel come about?

JR: Couple of things. We were talking to Scholastic and they were saying “what if we did this thing together” and we were fascinated by that idea. We’ve always been interested in comics. It sorta came up very naturally with them. And then we started talking about the story, Aaron and I, that could fit in here with the writers and stuff. I felt like a natural thing. That’s how I remember it - Aaron may have other memories of it.

AE: I think that the whole dream of this partnership with Scholastic has been to serve the community by being able to continue tell stories in the wider world of Xadia, through graphic novels, and novels and other books. That part of why we’re so excited about this partnership. It’s so much more depth and insight into different characters parts of the world that we may not have time for in the 22 minutes on Netflix. So the partnership with Scholastic is perfect for deepening and expanding those stories. That’s what it comes down to.

JR: They introduced us to Xanthe and Peter, who just absolutely crushed it.

AE: Yes. [Name?] is still at Wonderstorm if someone asks. It’s still happening. JR: Yes, I talked to him yesterday. He absolutely still here. Xanthe and Peter, we got introduced to them through Scholastic and they just absolutely knocked this out the park. It was a joy to work with both of them and what an amazing job they both did on this. We’re super excited to have gotten to work with them on a graphic novel.

AE: More shout outs to Xanthe Bouma and Peter Wartman.

What did Aaravos say to Khessa?

JR: We can’t say. AE: We can’t, but Janai is wondering that too. And we’re excited about it. It’s weird - I’m not being helpful, but it’s a good question. I may not be giving a satisfying answer, but it’s a good question.

How does Janai know Aaravos spoke to Khessa?

AE: She might not have seen it, but she’s going to find out about it.

Someone asked about the Orphan Queen.

AE: We love the Orphan Queen and there are more references coming seasons 4 and onward. It’s a story I’ve always wanted to tell. We think it will be a great movie someday, maybe. The story of the Orphan Queen is certainly relevant to the story and the saga as it’s unfolding now. It’s a cool story we wanna tell.

We know only some Skywing elves have wings, and not all Sunfire have fire-mode, but what about Moonshadow elves. As they can only use their powers once a month, rather than at any given moment, is it an ability all (or at least most) of them have or is it just some of them?

AE: I think it’s one of those things where Moonshadow elves are in tune with the Moon primal, and one of the very powerful skills that a Moonshadow elf being in tune with that arcanum can master is moonshadow mode, that makes you an excellent assassin, so they evolved this culture that does some of this stealthy, assassin work. It’s certainly possible that there are other powers and abilities that come from connecting to that arcanum that can be directly realized - that a Moonshadow elf might be able to manifest. So you may see some of that in the future. Maybe you have some ideas for your fanfiction or your cool art to show some of those powers, but the powers and abilities really come from them being attuned to these primals and some of it comes naturally and some it comes with training and bringing out the ability to do the special thing. I don’t see why it’s limited. In learning, for example, that Sunfire elves have at least two abilities that can connect to the arcanum is part of what may help understand that.

Do we read fanfictions?

AE: Yes and no - not so much. We highly encourage it and we love people do it. Every once in a while we get someone saying “you gotta look at this, it’s so charming” or “oh, this is so cool.” Or someone will bring something to our attention. There is some really amazing work out there and there’s some writers who are terrific. But as a rule I don’t think we do it regularly when someone says “check this out”.

Will there be more dark mages?

JR: Yes. You will see more dark mages, 100%. But I don’t want to say any more than that. AE: It’s interesting too. This is one of the great things about Scholastic partnership again, that there’s this sort of interplay about things you find out in the show and I think at least one of the dark mages is very significant. The first time people will hear about that person will be in Book 2: Sky the core novel. That’s someone who plays him in the story, in the saga, once the series comes back. But yeah, there’s a very important dark mage who will come up in that book.

Did Aaravos create dark magic?

AE: No, it was discovered not created. Did Aaravos turn them onto it or help them discover it? That’s very possible. Whether Aaravos played a role in developing their ability to do dark magic. Exploring the possibilities of dark magic.

Will we meet other types of dragon and/or archdragons?

JR: 100% yes. Dragon’s in the name. We’re bound by oath! AE: There will be dragons.

Is it possible the dragon king will unfreeze?

AE: Should we not answer that? I feel like it’s possible, but I don’t want to encourage or get anyone too excited. I think being turned to stone is a pretty dismal fate.

Can elves do dark magic?

AE: Can we just say yes? JR: Absolutely. Elves can do dark magic. Totally possible.

How do you go about populating Xadia with cities and landmarks? Do you have the landmarks and find places that fit or did you have the shape and find things to fill it? Or mixture of both? JR: A bit of both. There were some places we’d talked about and generally knew where it is or what this place is going to be. But some of it, when we saw the first version of that map, and the details, we were like “oh my goodness,” there were some obvious things we wanted to put in there. Then there’s some easter eggy stuff that just fun.

Do we think Claudia deserves a redemption arc?

AE: Why does she need a redemption arc. Why are you judging her? What has see done that requires redemption? She’s pretty much in the clear. JR: I’m insulted for her. (laughs)

Is Corvus’ middle name Dennis?

AE: Do you want it to be Dennis? JR: It can absolutely be Dennis. No reason it can’t be. I think I know where this comes from. There was a running gag in the writers between Devon and myself where we call Corvus “Dennis Trackerman.” There was a whole thing. It went on way too long. AE: We hadn’t named him yet. JR: We were talking about if there were a whole family of Trackerman, cousins and it went on way too long. I think his middle name could absolutely be Dennis. AE: Seems right to me. JR: So it’s official - Corvus Dennis Trackerman.

Is there a certain reason Rayla is scared of water and if there is will we find out more about it in the show?

AE: I think there may be. We may find out more about it. Part of it is because of the way she’s wired. I think she’s great at running through the trees and balancing and doing the things she does, is she senses the stability of the earth beneath her, the amount of stability or flexibility of a tree limb or side of a cliff. She’s very sensitive and in tuned. I think when you take someone like that and put them in the water, I think it - whoosh - overwhelms them. It alarming. Some of it’s a little physical, but I suspect there may have been something that happened. She certainly brings a sense of emotion around it, feels like it’s beyond discomfort. JR: I feel like there was a tra-

[There was a bit of a pause so they ending up talking over each other. AE starts asking the next question while JR gets cut off].

Someone asked if we can learn the backstory on Ethari?

AE: I know that there’s a beautiful story about Ethari’s birthday on our website that can give you a glimmer. But I think that’s something I would love to hear. I’m sure it’s something that Devon and Ian - perhaps Neil has thought about.

Do you think you’ll explore Callum’s dad or is he not important to the story?

AE: I think it’s possible we’ll learn more about Callum’s dad in the sense of the role he played in Sarai’s life and Callum’s own life. Hopefully in one of the books that comes out. JR: Yes, he is important. He’s foundational to how Callum became Callum.

Will the Dragon Queen in more involved in Season 4?

AE & JR: Yes. Dragons.

Is Rayla the main character of the story of Through the Moon?

JR: It’s Rayla focused, but it’s like the show, there’s various non-Rayla bits. But if I had to pick a main I’d say yeah, Rayla. AE: Probably ask Xanthe what she thought about that question.

Do we see more Crow Master?

JR: We can never get enough Crow Master as far as I’m concerned. If the show was just the Gren and Crow Master show I feel like we can make some stuff happen. We’ll definitely see more of him.

AE: Yesterday we were working on a Crow Master scene, and the writers were like, do we need it, and like, It’s a Crow Master scene!

Is it canon elves have 6 toes?

JR: I think they have 4 toes, right? AE: I’m not sure what happened there. I think that’s an oops someone made. I suspect they have 4 digits per hand or foot.

[Side note: I think Jack DeSena was talking about 6 toes on Zoom into Xadia]

“Gren” is that the main spinoff?

AE: We were gonna a have a spinoff that was just Gren, like the character’s life. Even if it was just mainly Gren enjoying the morning and getting ready for work and winding down at the end of the day and possibly waking up in the middle of the night, thinking about things and going back to sleep. Cause, things will be fine.

Will the history of Xadia’s splitting be important in the future?

JR: Yes, absolutely. That event is crazy important in terms of the history of the continent. You may not see more of the actually event of it, the getting split, but it’s a huge deal that matters a lot.

Soulfang serpents feed on the souls of their prey, does that make them a Moon primal creature?

AE & JR: I think that’s right. JR: And they’re terrifying.

Does Bait have a middle name or a glowtoad tribal name? They’d love to see how Ezran found or got Bait?

JR: I think we’ve said Ezran got Bait from Harrow. Harrow gave him Bait. Glowtoad tribal name is some sort of grunt noise that’s specific, it’s pretty funny to think about. Also, how would you know which is the tribal name and which is the middle? I guess they’d know. It’s only for glowtoads.

Will we see how people react to Rayllum or elf/human relationships in general?

JR: Yes. It could be a huge thing in the show. Human and elf relationships are a big deal, absolutely we will see that stuff going forward. Yes, you will definitely see that stuff.

How long did it take from conception to production for Through the Moon?

JR: I think it was about a year / nine months. To go from story idea all the way to finished. AE: If we’re talking story idea it’s almost a year and a half. It’s a lot of work. We worked with Peter on a number of drafts and outlines and scripts. Then with Xanthe for quite some time.

What is the time gap between the comic and season 3?

AE: Couple of weeks? JR: It’s pretty short. It’s almost immediately following season 3.

Is Opeli actually Soren and Claudia mom, but they don’t remember her?

JR: No, she’s not. But that would be kinda funny. AE: Do you maybe ship Opeli & Viren a little bit. JR: That would be a pretty funny relationship.

The time gap between Through the Moon and Season 4?

AE: Can’t say. JR: You’ll find out in season 4. Lots of weeks.

How long does it usually take to animate a scene?

JR: That’s a pretty variable answer. The way it works is; we write a script, it gets recorded, there’s a bunch of 2D passes where we do storyboards and animatics and those are all hand drawn, and that takes weeks and weeks of time. At some point that’s approved and it gets handed off to the animators. In our show we do 3D animation with a sort of 2D sheet or look to it. So 3D animators would get that animatic, and they’d be handed a shot. Sometimes, depending on how complex the shot is, there’s sometime multiple animators will work on a single sequence. If there’s a lots of stuff going on with multiple characters you’ll get more than one person working on a shot. But it totally depends how much facial animation there is, how much action, how much running around, if they’re standing or talking. It totally depends. There’s a sort of variable number of seconds the animator can do a week. There’s not like a hard or fast answer here. Sometimes if it’s simple they can animate maybe 20 seconds a week, if it’s crazy complicated they may be doing half that. On average, it on the 20 seconds a week range. But wildly variable depending on the shot and what happening.

Is there a bigger world out there or is Xadia all there is?

AE: There’s some stuff on the periphery of the map that is part of a bigger world. But the main focus is this continent. It’s where the key action is. I think there are things on the periphery. We sometimes do jokes the Avatar world is on the other side. JR: If you flip the world over.

Are the elven face marking henna tattoo or are they permanent? JR: They’re more like henna tattoo. AE: Depends on the culture. There are probably some elven cultures where they more permanently tattoo some of the marking and they’re some where they’re more temporary makeup. But I think we’ve said for the Moonshadow elves it’s more like henna. Semi-permanent tattoos.

Will there be more Queen Aanya?

JR: Yeah. AE: I hope so too. JR: I love Queen Aanya. She’s awesome and a very exciting character. Also she has the coolest bow ever and I want to see more of that not matter what.

Aanya/Ezran friendship?

AE: I want to see that. We talked about that. JR: We can’t talk about that yet, but yes.

Who is the best fighter in the show?

JR: I don’t know if there’s a best fighter. There’s a lot of awesome fighters in the show. AE: Rayla and Soren both have different fighting skills. Corvus has different set of fighting skill. They’re all great fighters. Amaya’s incredible. Actually, the answer might be Amaya. If I had to put an answer on it. Just fundamentals. That be my answer. JR: That makes sense. I agree. I bet Soren would disagree.

Do you guys ever play D&D after work?

JR: Yes, we have a whole D&D crew after work. We love Dungeons & Dragons. We love Tabletop RPG We play all kinds of board games, not just Dungeons & Dragons. We had a whole series of board game nights - when we can be at the office - that were really fun. Continue that when we can all get back together. Played some virtual version too since Covid.

Will we ever see Villads again? JR: I don’t know if we should answer that one? AE: I think so, yeah. JR: Also, Villads is the name of a person who worked on the show - he’s an amazing director. AE: Not just a person, the supervising director of the show. Wonderful leader. Inspirational. JR: And a big sailor.

Then they wrapped up. Thanks, shout outs, reminder of AMA etc.

#the dragon prince #through the moon #tdp lore #Q&A

34 notes · View notes

honeybammie · 6 years

Text

seoul › kim namjoon

↳ in which you leave your heart in seoul, seven thousand miles away from new york city ↳ angst, but ends in fluff? sorta? you’ll see

Moving seven thousand miles away from Namjoon was the hardest thing I ever did, but in the end, I had no choice. I would’ve stayed with him in Seoul if I had been rejected from the top film school in New York, but the day my acceptance letter came in the mail, our the time left in our relationship was no more than a few grains left in the hourglass.

“I’ll wait for you,” he tried to say, but four years apart to a couple of eighteen-year-olds was practically a lifetime, and whether or not I’d ever return to Korea was one of the biggest questions of all, especially when cities like New York and Los Angeles might’ve given me a lifetime of opportunity. I broke both of our hearts and turned them into shattered pieces, and for months afterwards I pricked myself on the jagged edges that remained.

We stayed in touch for a year, perhaps, but distance and time are a lethal combination, and fresh heartache faded to a bitter taste in the back of my throat. Gradually, we stopped answering each other’s calls, fabricating excuses that we had been too busy or too tired, but we were only too tired of pretending we could be friends.

His features faded from time. His dimpled cheeks and dainty, sloped nose blurred among eight million faces, and with Seoul’s even larger population, Namjoon undoubtedly felt the same about me. I fell into bed with new people, as would he. I found new coffee shops and places to buy my clothes, as would he.

By the time my junior year rolled around, I stopped missing him. My phone number changed. I cut my hair, bought my own apartment with two close college friends, assimilated to the city as if I had never come from Seoul in the first place.

My greatest accomplishment was in filming, as I always hoped. Professors dipped my short productions in praise, and I scored myself a paid internship at a nearby film studio. On the internet, I attracted a small—but growing—community who motivated me to release more. Whoever first coined New York as the city that never sleeps hadn’t been joking. There was no time to sleep, between classes and the internship and filming new videos and keeping my roommates in check while trying my damnedest to maintain a normal social life.

Graduation made the juggling process easier, but hardly. The studio hired me full-time with a generous starting salary, but if we were filming, I might be at work for twelve, fourteen hours. Art is art and the artist drives himself mad in pursuit, and I was no different, but maybe it would be nice to sleep again. My roommates pointed out that they’d go weeks without seeing me, like I was a ghost in our apartment. All traces that I had been there were still present—unmade bed, empty shampoo bottles, half-eaten dinners shoved into Tupperware containers—but I had not been truly present in some time.

I was happy, but I missed interaction. The artist may think he can live off merely his art, but he will eventually realize he is human, too, and second to oxygen, he needs other humans.

Which is why I didn’t think twice when my parents asked me to fly into Seoul for a week during the summer. They usually visited New York a couple times a year, but they were growing older and the flights were taking bigger tolls on them, so I filled in. A trip home might alleviate some of my stress anyway, and I’d have the chance to meet with friends I hadn’t seen in half a decade.

The only problem with travelling a fourteen-hour time difference was the jet-lag. My first day, I passed out on the couch at two in the afternoon. The smell was comforting and reminded me of childhood and the nostalgia became a lullaby that rocked me to sleep in the middle of a conversation with my mother. She let me be, covering me with a blanket and preparing a cup of tea for when I woke.

I tried to sleep again in the evening. My parents went to bed at midnight, but I tossed and turned for an hour to no avail. Luckily, there was always one person I could call at 1AM and expect an answer every time: Jung Hoseok.

He picked me up not twenty minutes later, shouting on my front porch about how many years it had been and how my face matured and how hot I looked. I shushed him when a neighbor’s dog started barking, and he yanked me into his car.

“Have you talked to Jimin yet? Or Yoongi? They wonder about you all the time,” he gushed. “We’ve seen all of your videos on YouTube, and we placed bets on how old you’ll be when you become a millionaire. I said twenty-seven, so you still have a few years, but you should probably start planning as soon as you can.”

Hoseok fired a million questions a minute, hardly granting me the opportunity to answer, but he made up for it by constantly making me laugh. Even when I tried to glare at him at a slightly-too-personal inquiry, he smirked at me out of the corner of his eye, and I forgave him in an instant. He was always the biggest personality in the room, and he was on his way to opening the dance studio he had always dreamed of as a teenager.

“Can you believe it? We’re both achieving everything we ever dreamed of!” he beamed.

“Well…sort of,” I said with a shrug, and he almost swerved into oncoming traffic as he whipped his head to stare at me in shock. “What? Don’t kill us, Hoseok.”

“You’re living the New York dream life. You’re making short movies and you have your own growing fan base. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Of course, but…it’s lonely sometimes, and my roommates and I still talk, but our friendship has faded since college. I’d prefer you, Yoongi, and Jimin a hundred times over.”

“None of us would complain if you moved back,” he suggested. “If you needed a place to stay, your parents would surely let you, or you’re welcome to live with me. I’m in a one-bedroom right now, but we’d figure something out, and—”

“That isn’t what I meant,” I interrupted. “I gave up everything to be able to make a life in New York, and I’m doing it. I’m making good money. The apartment is nice enough. I—”

“You can make good money and get a nice apartment in Seoul,” Hoseok said. “I’m not asking you to give up your life, but if you aren’t as happy there as you always thought you’d be, maybe it’s time to reevaluate your decision. That’s all. Do you want to get some drinks?”

“Do you mind if we get drinks another night?” I asked, never one to tear him away from a party, but I hadn’t walked the city streets in so long that I missed them, and I didn’t want to forget my first night home after winding up black-out drunk in the back of Hoseok’s car. “Show me the city. What’s new? What hasn’t changed?”

“Right. I have a place for you, and luckily, we’re pretty close,” he said, taking the next left. “Remember that underground music venue we always used to go to? They sold old records and sometimes featured live artists sometimes?”

I nodded.

“It’s gotten pretty popular over the years. One of their guys seems to be on the cusp of making it big, so the crowd might be a little bigger,” he warned.

“I’ve lived in two of the biggest cities in the world. Crowds don’t scare me,” I said. “Are you sure we’ll be able to make it inside, though?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” he said, parking his car on the side of the road and leading me a couple blocks down vaguely familiar streets. The memories came back to me—buying school supplies from that store over there, or makeup from the place on the corner because I wanted to impress my peers. There were a couple places I didn’t recognize at all.

“Is this the line?” I asked at the sight of fifty or so people—mostly in their twenties—standing around the venue Hoseok and I used to slip into with little more than a five minute wait. “How aren’t they at capacity?”

“They’ve had to expand, and with the expansion they introduced VIP passes for a few of the regulars,” Hoseok said, digging a card out of his pocket as he strolled passed the waiting swath of people like he owned the entire place.

“Are you sure that’ll get me in?” I worried, but he merely waved his hand at me.

“Jin!” Hoseok greeted the worker, who I somewhat remembered was a couple years older than me in school, but I never spoke to him. Apparently he and Hoseok were well acquainted.

“Hoseok! Who is your friend?” Jin asked, but upon closer inspection his eyes widened in recognition. “I remember you! You moved to New York, right? Hoseok mentions you all the time.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” I forced myself to chuckle a little, trying my best to be polite. “Is it alright that I cut in front of all these people?”

“Normally, I’d say no, but I get the feeling Hoseok would never let me hear the end of it,” Jin tsked. Hoseok laid down a few bills in front of him, and Jin nodded for us to head inside, down the steps.

The bar was larger, equipped with more shimmering glasses than ever, and the standing area had easily doubled in size, perhaps tripled, which a slightly lifted stage whereas singers used to stand eye-to-eye with their audience. A dim light bathed the space in red.

“Red?” I said aloud. “Sexy.”

“Or angry,” Hoseok proposed, spending the next fifteen or so minutes chatting my ear off while people filled in around us. We weren’t near the front, but the view was good enough regardless, and in the event I would need to make a hasty exit, we were close to the stairs.

There was no warning that anyone was about to walk onto the stage. No announcement to introduce his presence was made, but the crowd knew. The shouting leveled to a murmur in the moments leading up to the grand reveal.

Then they erupted. One glimpse, and they became an entire stadium of fans, hands stretched into the air while lungs strained for breath.

But for my heart, the moment was anything but worthy of celebration.

If I thought Namjoon was handsome five years ago, he was breathtaking now, with the same sloped nose and dimples, but he matured into his features and his new confidence hit me full force. He changed his hair, too. Just like me.

But he was so, so angry. With the world. Sometimes with his friends or himself, but mostly with me.

“Why would you bring me here?” I shoved Hoseok’s arm. “What makes you think I’d want to see him, of all people?”

He narrowed his eyes, still moving with the music. “You broke up when you were eighteen. I thought you’d be over it by now and might want to see that he’s making something of himself, too.”

“I’m over it, but are you even listening to him? Half of these songs have been about me.”

“You were a big influence on his music. Don’t you think it’s kind of flattering?” Hoseok argued. “Most of the ones about you are from years ago, anyway, but he’s got to keep performing the fan favorites. Heartbreak resonates with people.”

He made complete sense, but that didn’t mean I wanted to admit that or stand and listen to the words coming out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said, winding my way to the steps. I shut myself in the upper-level bathroom, where the voices downstairs were muffled and thus unintelligible.

Namjoon enrolled in a music school in Seoul, always praying that he’d be that one-in-a-million to make his music known on a global stage. He sang me to sleep so many times and rapped with more passion than most professionals. I believed in him more than myself, and he was on his way, but hearing the vehemence that backed his words made me hate him so slightly.

When others started coming into the bathroom at a quicker rate, I realized the music had ended. I exited to find the crowd filing their way out. How long had I been hiding?

“There you are.” Hoseok took my arm and pulled me towards him. “I started to think you left without me. Look, if I crossed a line by bringing you here—”

“How can I talk to him?” I blurted out, unaware that I had even thought of the question, but it was out in the open.

“You’re sure you want to do that?” he asked, giving me the chance to back out, but I nodded my head. “You know you aren’t allowed to hit him, right?”

“Yes, now please tell me, or I might hit you,” I threatened.

“Go back downstairs. Off the side of the stage, there’s a hall. He’ll be in the room on the end,” Hoseok said, handing me the VIP card. “There’s a guard. Show him this.”

“Thank you. Wait here.” I snatched the card and hurried back to the basement, following Hoseok’s set of instructions until my hand was on the doorknob of Namjoon’s room. What do you say to your ex-boyfriend who just performed several rap songs about your break-up to several hundred people?

Apparently, you don’t have to speak first anyway.

I only step halfway into the room when he catches my reflection in the mirror. The ice pack he was pressing to his neck falls to the floor, and he’s on his feet faster than if I’d told him the building was about to collapse.

“You’re here,” he breathes. “I saw you in the crowd, but you left, and I thought you were gone for good. Again.”

Again. I wince at the word. “Clearly you had a lot to say about me, so I came to give you the chance to say it to my face. If you hated me so much, why—”

“No, no, no, no.” He crosses half the floor in a few steps but stops in the middle of the room because he remembers that he can’t wrap his arms around me anymore when I need the comfort. “Those songs were all written years ago. Three, four, or five years, and they aren’t the only ones I wrote. I have sappy ballads and about a dozen songs titled ‘I Miss You’ and I can perform those at the breakfast café, but this isn’t the crowd for that.”

“A breakfast café?” I ask. He nods. “How many venues do you have booked?”

“Depends how many openings a place has—sometimes two or three, but other times up to six,” he says, attempting to mask his pride, but he glows a little brighter.

“So you aren’t angry all the time?”

He rocks his head side to side. “No,” he decides. “I’m angry some of the time, but isn’t everyone?”

“So you’re happy?” I ask. “This is what you want, right?”

This question is, evidently, more difficult to answer. “I’m…happy with the music, sure. And the fans,” he supposes. “There’s talk that I might go to a couple cities around the country and do a few performances, but we’ll see.”

“What about your friends? Your social life?” I ask. “How’re those things?”

“You care?” he wonders, and I nod. “I have a few people I’ve been working with, and they’re all great. They’re so passionate about getting me off the ground, and I love them, but I miss having actual friends sometimes, and going out for drinks, or seeing concerts.”

“Filming has been kind of the same way for me,” I admit. “Weird, don’t you think? How we both went after what we wanted, but one year after graduating, we’re both stuck already.”

“I’ve seen your work. It’s phenomenal,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck. “I tried to text you about it once, but you must’ve gotten a new number and I didn’t want to bother you.”

“We both bothered each other, don’t you think?” I ask, recalling how we mutually drifted apart after all the missed calls and unread messages. “We weren’t capable of being friends. It took me two years to stop missing you.”

“What about the last three years? Do you ever think of me?”

“I…sometimes.” I shrug, unsure of myself. “When I talk about high school, you’re usually in the mix, or sometimes when I smell peppermint I think of your house, but I had to move on eventually. We both did.”

“Right, right,” he says, nodding in agreement. “But…I would’ve still loved you, you know?”

“You would’ve?” I ask. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“It does. If you stayed here, or if you asked me to wait for you like I offered, I think we could’ve done it.” His stage personality starts to fade and I recognize a younger, shyer Namjoon who figured out how to love someone with his whole heart when he was sixteen years old and spent two years doing anything and everything to make me happy, which included letting me break his heart and move across the world.

“But I didn’t stay, and I didn’t ask you to wait,” I say, “so the question isn’t a matter of whether you would’ve loved me, but a matter of if you still do.”

“I beg to differ. It’s not a matter of if I do, but of if I can,” he corrects me. “Because I can’t be in love with someone seven thousand miles away. Not again.”

“Haven’t we been over this before?” I mutter. Five years ago, I said the same things. I couldn’t survive a relationship and distance, so I chose the latter.

“When you said you weren’t sure you’d ever come back, but here you are,” he says, gesturing to me and he was giving us both a little more hope than we knew what to do with, bringing forth all the memories of when we were just teenagers in love and what could possibly be more convincing than that? Didn’t we deserve that again?

“My entire life is over there.” I shake my head. “How long has it been since we last spoke? And you’re talking about being in love? We have to most past this eventually.”

“You were the one who asked me if I still love you,” he points out. “Do you still love me?”

Of course I do.

The thought springs into existence as easy as air, even if it had been years since I last thought it. I’d always love him, even when I hated him so slightly.

“Does it matter?” I ask, pushing the feelings down, down, down into the pit of my stomach. “You said you can’t be in love with someone seven thousand miles away, and I can’t, either. That’s why we broke up.”

“But you aren’t seven thousand miles away right now.”

“So what? I’m here for a week,” I sigh at my growing headache. Namjoon always had been one to throw aside logic in a desperate attempt to keep what he wanted.

“Then we have a week,” he says.

“You’re out of your mind,” I tell him, but he knew that already. He had to.

“Maybe, but you aren’t saying no.” He catches onto me, and I swear at him in my head. “You haven’t walked out, either, which you used to do when you didn’t agree with me.”

“Storming out of rooms is too teenager-esque for me,” I say, but he’s crossing the room again. I either want to slap or kiss him, but I’ll figure it out for sure in the moment. “You really think we can pretend this is a good idea for a week?”

He nods. “I really do.”

“Good enough for me.”

I grab the collar of his shirt with both hands and pull him to me, his lips meeting mine in a less than graceful collision but our love had never been pretty in the first place.

In a week, I’ll regret the decision. I’ll hate myself for kissing him. I’ll hate myself for asking to see him. I’ll hate myself for turning down Hoseok’s offer to drink ourselves into a stupor, or for leaving my parents’ house in the first place, but not yet. Not when Namjoon is standing right in front of me and his hands are in my hair and we’re eighteen again.

For the next six days, we have all the time in the world.

a/n: have i mentioned how much i love kim namjoon bc i love him with my entire heart that’s all

78 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 7 years

Text

Tumblr prompt ( Yoongi x Oc )

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

part 4/4.

“She should be awake by now, right?” Yoongi said nervously, pacing across the hospital room, fingers dipped into his pockets.

“ she will... just give it time, hyung..” Namjoon was going through the reports. again. just to be sure . just to make sure they didn’t miss something.

these things happened.

one misplaced dot and the patient crashes.

a split second of indecision and somewhere, someone’s life is forever changed.

in this case it was yoongi.

Namjoon couldn’t risk it.

None of them could.

the staff were all on edge : Dr. Min had saved so many young lives, it seemed unfair that he had to watch his unborn child being removed out of his wife . His wife who was battling for her life, right now. They tried to work hard for it but it was out of their hands now.

They’d done everything they could, as doctors. and there were always moments in the OT when the most cynical of humans , the most agnostic of men would just shut his or her eye and pray, oh God, please, please help us out here.

Yoongi hesitated, glancing at the figure on the bed. She looked like she was sleeping, her face almost ethereal in the dim lighting : pale and surreal. she was still on ventilator support and Yoongi noted the way her lungs struggled to breathe and he wanted to punch someone.

He wanted to reach into her ribs and help her, help her lungs expand and take in life giving air , he wanted to reach out and stitch together all the broken capillaries that had resulted in her bleeding out so quickly and so badly, before any of them could do anything but watch in horror.

Her forearms were bruised : they’d tried hard to get the IV in but she had lost so much blood and then she had lost more when they’d injected the syringe in.

he’d almost passed out from the exhaustion of holding her close, through the night, through the surgery , through the post op care.

But it wasn’t enough... he thought feverishly.

“i just... what if i lose her, joon ah..?” He said softly and Namjoon hesitated, sitting up slowly.

“Hyung, stop. You’re not. We’re not losing her...”

“but... I don’t deserve her.” Yoongi was tired, running on zero hours of sleep and four cups of caffeine, and his brain was shutting down because his heart was taking up all the blood. and his heart was just continually hammering against his chest in stilted, aborted beats that went, it;s your fault. beat, you did this to her. beat. she’s better off without you . beat.

“Hyung..” Namjoon’s voice drew him out of his own personal hell and then suddenly the words were spilling out of him without his permission.

“i just... i took it all for granted , joon. I didn’t realize that all the affection she gave me.. i didn’t realize it was a gift and a blessing . i should have appreciated it and repaid it in kind but ...fuck i just ... I took it all for granted..”

“Hyung.. we’ll pray for it..” Namjoon said softly and Yoongi shook his head.

He believed that you couldn’t really implore to a higher power when you know you don’t deserve to. how could he even dare to ask whatever God there was , to give her back to him, when he’d proven time and again that he didn’t deserve to have her?

you don’t give someone something precious thing, when that person has a record for breaking it.

So, how could he? how could he possibly pray that she come back to him when he fucking knew he didn’t deserve her.

“Yoongi.” His mother’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. Namjoon looked as surprised as him as they stared at the older woman, dressed in her expensive suit and with her hair styled to perfection.

“Mom?” He said surprised.

Your mother wants me to get hit by a car

he shook his head. She was wrong. The woman who borthed him, wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“How is she?” His mother says gently and Yoongi flinches, watching Namjoon as he bows in greeting before quietly excusing himself.

“I.. we’re not sure. She’s lost a lot of blood and her heart’s not doing it’s job the way it ought to...” he laughed without mirth.

“Well, there is such a thing called karma.”

Yoongi startled, looking up in surprise and confusion.

“what?”

“To think that she would want to kill an innocent child...” his mother shook her head. Yoongi felt his heart beat slow and drag, mind filling with cotton wool and he struggled to just think and comprehend.

“ what?”

“ i just saw her blood reports Yoongi . She’s been taking misoprostol . What she had just now is a self induced abortion and there is no doubt that she fully intended to get rid of the baby. ” She sighed and patted his shoulder awkwardly.

yoongi felt like he’d been dragged underwater by a hand around his ankle, the loss of control and bubbling panic so swift and unsettling that he stumbled.

“That.. that doesn’t make sense... she would never do something like that...”

“wouldn’t she? I’m a woman. and a doctor. i can recognize these things far better than you ever could. she never belonged in our family. i always regretted it, marrying you off to that fickle woman. If only your father wasn’t so hell bent on keeping you in Korea, I never would have agreed to the whole thing.”

“You’re lying.”

“why would i lie? you can see the reports yourself if you want. Go look through her stuff at home and i bet you’ll find some of the pills. “

Yoongi blinked, the exhaustion of the past few days , suddenly too much to bear.

“Get out.” He said tiredly.

His mother blinked,surprised.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!!!”

And Yoongi has always been weak when he ought to be strong, hesitant when he should be firm and malleable when he should stay steady.

So he goes home, finds the bottle of pills and breaks down into tears.

so he forgets, everything else that he knows about his beloved his wife, the girl who had trusted him with her everything and instead believes his mother who didn’t deserve his trust at all.

He thinks that he deserves this, for being a shitty husband, for being an awful friend. He thinks that this would be his penance. He would give her what she wanted. He would give her a divorce and he would get out of her life. hell he would get out of the damn country. So she could build a life for herself.

And despite Namjoon’s protests and Jung kook’s looks of utter horror. he signs the divorce papers , packs his bags and leaves Korea for good.

He never belonged here anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twelve days later:

I blinked blearily, every inch of me screaming in protest when i tried to move my limbs. What was wrong with me? where was I ? what had happened.

Yoongi.

that was the only thing in my head right away. It went on and on, in loop. i needed yoongi. Yoongi would make it all better.

“she’s waking up.”

My mother.

I blinked, confused but happy. when did Mom come over? Was she here to visit?

As the light slowly began to fade in, parts of the room came into focus. a super junior poster. A few caps. A hand made schedule chart. a chart for chores. A few slips of used tickets to a big bang concert. a calender with colorful post its all over it. A small frame which had the letters MYG engraved in it and painted in a bright pink.

My room.

Not the room i shared with my husband but the room where i’d grown up in. the room i’d been in when i saw him for the very first time , through the window, as he played ball with his dog in the huge park across from our home.

For a second , i thought i’d stepped into a time warp, that somehow i’d woken up as a fifteen year old with an unrequited crush on Min yoongi, instead of as the twenty four years old girl who was married to him.

“Baby... you’re okay...” my mother’s fingers soothed, skimming over my cheeks and stroking may hair off my face.

“where’s yoongi?” I choked out, some of the syllables not forming because of how my voice cracked. But my mother seemed to understand and she took a deep shuddering breath.

“we’ll talk about him later. Here, try getting up.” She came closer and helped me up gently. i didn’t push. Yoongi would be here soon enough. Maybe in a few hours. He was a doctor. A busy one at that. He must have been worried about me getting lonely all by myself in the apartment. He must have had me sent to my mother’s place so she would take care of me. he was always considerate that way. He would always try to make me feel good.

“Thank you mama. i missed you. you should come visit me and Yoongi more often. “ i said softly. my mother stared at me before swallowing.

“Drink this baby. it’ll help you get better...” she pressed the glass to my lips and i took a gulp of the broth. it tasted sweet and savory. Not bad.

“When is he coming bak?” i said curiously. My sister finally spoke up from the shadows.

“He isn’t coming back!” she said sharply.

My mother stumbled, fingers shaking and slopping the broth all over me.

“oh.. carefull... unnie? what.. what are you saying , i said confused. “

“Stop it! shut up and leave, right now.” My mother shouted at my sister who looked like she had been crying for a long time.

“He isn’t fucking coming back Y?N. Because he’s a filthy liar and a fucking coward who can never stand up for himself. He’s a filthy spineless cowrad...”

“stop talking about my husband like that!” i shouted, not sure why she was so angry or what yoongi had done to earn such anger.

“He’s not your fucking husband anymore.”

i froze.

so did my mother.

“what?” i said stupidly.

“Y/n.. you need to lie down... you’re still sick and...”

but my sister was grabbing something from the table, a set of papers and moving closer to me.

“Here! See them for yourself. “

i swallowed, barely able to hold the sheafs of paper and to read.

Petition for Divorce .... general pleadings to a court for dissolution of marriage...

We , Min Yoon Gi and Y/N would like to make the following statement. :

We both want to request for the dissolution of our marriage.

I stared at the words stupidly, certain for a moment that i’d misread them./ i looked back up at my mom who was crying now, silently, great big drops of tears just rolling down her face.

and because nothing else seemed to make sense, i went back to reading the letter and it only twisted my gut more.

Together we have no minor or dependent children and Wife is not pregnant. ...

and there it was signed at the very bottom in an neat and perfect script.

: Min Yoong Gi.

He had signed the divorce papers.

i looked up then , confused and disoriented.

“But i am..” i said stupidly. “I’m pregnant... I took an ultrasound and Yoongi saw ... i...”

“Oh baby...” My mother drew me into her arms and i stared, confused at my sister who looked like she was physically wilting.

“you’re not anymore, sweetheart...” she whispered.

Oh.

Oh... right. So that was it?

Yoongi wanted a divorce because i wasn’t pregnant anymore?

That made sense.

i nodded absently, rubbing my stomach thoughtfully. it certainly made sense now. He hated me because i’d lost our child. I could sympathize. i’d hate me too.

everything made sense.

“Mom.. i just... can i sign these later? i really want to lie down. “ i said softly holding the papers out.

“Y/N...”

“Just a little while mom. Just for a litle while.”

i shut my eyes, swallowing a huge burning wave of soul numbing pain and despair and choked on air, my limbs trembling as i curled into a ball and gripped my childhood sheets and stared at the wall and it seemed that not a lot had changed since the last time , i’d laid here.

Not a lot had changed in the last decade, because here i was, once again hurting and crying and dying because of Min Yoon Gi.

And i wondered if it had been stupid, staring out of that window on that November night and looking at that boy in the park , playing ball with his dog. For spending ten years, wishing on starts and eye lashes and feathers and flowers, wishing on the moon and the sun and the stars in between and just believing, that somehow, somewhere along the line, he would love me the way i loved him because what goes around should come around, right? So much love spent on one person should have some sort of return right?

But apparently, it wouldn’t .

Apparently, loving yoongi hadn’t been my destiny but my biggest mistake.

And marrying him hadn’t been a stroke of luck from fate, but a vicious and vile curse.

and instead of breaking the curse, i’d fed it.

And destroyed myself in the process.

Because i’d been a fool and I had made Yoongi the center piece of my life’s puzzle.

And now , I would forever be that puzzle from childhood that we all have, the incomplete one with a single missing piece .

I know it's cold when we're apart And I hate to feel this die But you can't give me what I want Just give it time And if you and I Can make it through the night And if you and I Can keep our love alive, we'll find We can meet in the middle Bodies and souls collide Dance in the moonlight When all the stars align For you and I, for you and I,

But for now we stay so far 'Til our lonely limbs collide I can't keep you in these arms So I keep you in my mind

~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : Heavy angst with a sad ending as requested!!

Hope you enjoyed it anon!!

( P.S : i bawled like a baby and felt very bad about this.. lowkey want to get them back together but ... i usually try to stay true to the requests. )

#yoongi #min yoongi fics #min yoongi #yoongi smut

238 notes · View notes