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#because they still do edm
suaimhneas-gairid · 8 months
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my favourite part of the new käärijä song is the YEARNING LOOKS wait no it's the SENSUAL TOUCHES wait no it's the FRUITY LYRICS wait no it's-
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t3tr0m1n0 · 7 months
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internet brainrot by tdstr is part really cool interesting hardcore techno and part memefest. and as someone who, i feel, has really engaged with meme-heavy musical compositions that still take themselves seriously, i kind of prefer the memeless side of music. i think the point of dariacore is to heavily use obnoxiously memetic samples on top of the general intense hardcore sound. i seriously like the high tempo, varied melodies, heavy bass & intense percussion- all the hardcore side of it. i like hardcore edm that uses lots of samples. and i like music that is just memetic samples into music (see neil cicierega's mouth albums). but with this album i kind of think that the hardcore edm side would stand better on its own or with less of the meme Culture bogging it down. it's when it starts leaning into irony stylings or reveling in some subculture/fandom's iconography that i think it loses me. another station was a really great track but then when damn right came on and i heard familiar sample after familiar sample bring me into something with no hablo americano as its leading sample i got pulled out. and damn right is a pretty good track, i like it a lot! it's just the swing of the focus kind of prevents me from getting into the right mindset to enjoy self-serious hardcore edm or bite-sized high-effort melodic shitpost-inspired music. in short, this album lives up to its title, and it's almost disappointing for that. it's like i went to someone's house and in order to make me feel comfortable they had their computer open to tumblr with my account logged in. like oh i wasn't aware that's how you decided to do things around here
#this is maybe not my most coherent review. trust me it's not the fault of this album#i feel like i'm seriously well qualified to review dariacore considering i take music seriously and i have such experience with#the sort of musical memespace that's come out of siivagunner + soundclown#i'm going to have to look into more albums in this genre. by the way i had no idea this is what dariacore was#i'd heard the name tossed around a fair amount before without knowing what it sounded like#music reviewssic#i haven't reviewed it but i've listened to because maybe as well as other releases by renard/lapfox tracks#and i was reminded of it by this album. with the sample-heavy hardcore edm that seems sooorta like#speedcore? not breakcore. i'm saying ''hardcore edm'' a lot because i don't know what subgenre to refer to#bet if i listened to enough camellia i'd get an idea#the difference being that. i think in the time of because maybe internet subcultures did not go as deep as they do now#or if they did go as deep as they do now they didn't also have the scope of today's#there are siiva-derived communities that are kind of ''deep'' into internet subcultures that still have a following#rivaling that of more average internet communities circa 2010. that's how it feels at least#when i listen to because maybe &c i'm like ah i recognize these samples because they're pop culture#not fully pop culture but definitely pop culture to ''the internet''- sonic 2/retro games & mcr & maximum the hormone#when i listen to internet brainrot. well now. the title speaks for itself like i said#also sprach#i think im just made uncomfortable for being met so squarely at my own level of internet familiarity by something as impersonal as an album#like this album isn't just in an adjacent level of internet depths resided in it's kind of slotted into the exact same section that i'm in#...again. i need to listen to more dariacore#c u thru the q#my final word is that i prefer an album that i don't have to adjust the volume on between songs. god this got loud
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butchdykeorpheus · 1 year
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bitching in the tags ignore me
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arb0k · 1 year
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also one of the plot points is they full on commit to "if you do Evil Magic it makes you uglier" and the Evil Girl's first hint is she gets a big mole and her final transformation is into an extremely elderly woman which like. i don't like but it's obviously meant to be parody-adjacent and the optics could be worse
but her middle transformation that causes everyone to start freaking out is that they make her nose bigger and noticeably more arched which. well
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no one told them this was a bad idea? really?
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himemeika · 2 years
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I really wish I could talk about my interests in more depth because in my head I could probably go on for hours talking about certain scenes and cinematic parallels but whenever I try to type it out I lose all words
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eyes-on-the-weather · 3 months
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internet brainrot by tdstr is part really cool interesting hardcore techno and part memefest. and as someone who, i feel, has really engaged with meme-heavy musical compositions that still take themselves seriously, i kind of prefer the memeless side of music. i think the point of dariacore is to heavily use obnoxiously memetic samples on top of the general intense hardcore sound. i seriously like the high tempo, varied melodies, heavy bass & intense percussion- all the hardcore side of it. i like hardcore edm that uses lots of samples. and i like music that is just memetic samples into music (see neil cicierega’s mouth albums). but with this album i kind of think that the hardcore edm side would stand better on its own or with less of the meme Culture bogging it down. it’s when it starts leaning into irony stylings or reveling in some subculture/fandom’s iconography that i think it loses me. another station was a really great track but then when damn right came on and i heard familiar sample after familiar sample bring me into something with no hablo americano as its leading sample i got pulled out. and damn right is a pretty good track, i like it a lot! it’s just the swing of the focus kind of prevents me from getting into the right mindset to enjoy self-serious hardcore edm or bite-sized high-effort melodic shitpost-inspired music. in short, this album lives up to its title, and it’s almost disappointing for that. it’s like i went to someone’s house and in order to make me feel comfortable they had their computer open to tumblr with my account logged in. like oh i wasn’t aware that’s how you decided to do things around here
#music review#[originally written 10/1/23]#]archived reviews#]archived tags:#this is maybe not my most coherent review. trust me it's not the fault of this album#i feel like i'm seriously well qualified to review dariacore considering i take music seriously and i have such experience with#the sort of musical memespace that's come out of siivagunner + soundclown#i haven't reviewed it but i've listened to because maybe as well as other releases by renard/lapfox tracks#and i was reminded of it by this album. with the sample-heavy hardcore edm that seems sooorta like#speedcore? not breakcore. i'm saying ''hardcore edm'' a lot because i don't know what subgenre to refer to#bet if i listened to enough camellia i'd get an idea#the difference being that. i think in the time of because maybe internet subcultures did not go as deep as they do now#or if they did go as deep as they do now they didn't also have the scope of today's#there are siiva-derived communities that are kind of ''deep'' into internet subcultures that still have a following#rivaling that of more average internet communities circa 2010. that's how it feels at least#when i listen to because maybe &c i'm like ah i recognize these samples because they're pop culture#not fully pop culture but definitely pop culture to ''the internet''- sonic 2/retro games & mcr & maximum the hormone#when i listen to internet brainrot. well now. the title speaks for itself like i said#my final word is that i prefer an album that i don't have to adjust the volume on between songs. god this got loud
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ishizizzle · 9 months
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I got these from very lovely rave people 😭😭 my date invited me to go to an edm concert & it was so lively and everyone was sincere 🤧 the floor was covered in sweat tho it was HOT
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allthingsgerman · 1 year
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I feel like ever since American people have been allowed to watch Eurovision it has gone down the drain.. where is the drama? Where is the glitter? Where are the men in hamster wheels? Where are the naked women churning butter? Where is the fire?
Can't we just get to keep this for ourselves? Americans literally ruin anything they touch!
This has nothing to do with Americans, this has to do with a certain cultural hegemony within the music industry and the way the contest is set up.
From what I remember the juries were originally introduced to moderate the block voting of certain regions (the balkans always exchanging maximum points, greece and cyprus etc.), but not only does that still happen, it now also seems to be a tool for the music industry (the jury is comprised of so-called 'experts' and professionals) to preserve what they apparently perceive as the 'dignity' of eurovision, by selecting boring mainstream songs and neglecting, let's say, interesting songs because it might be embarrassing.
This year the German jury was comprised of:
Katja Ebstein, a 78 year old singer who represented Germany in Eurovision three times between 1970 and 1980.
Alina Süggeler, whose band Frida Gold is mainly known for making forgettable EDM inspired pop stuff and commercials that are thinly disguised as music videos.
Anica Russo, a pop artist who I actually don't know much about but she finished 6th (out of 8) in the national selection for this year's German entry so make of that what you will.
Arne Gosh, a music manager.
Kai Tölke, Head of Music of a German radio station.
I'm assuming it will be similar in other countries. Managers and nonthreatening mainstream pop artists who are the darlings (and clients) of said managers and the labels, but who don't even match the most successful artists in the country.
And the vote of the German jury was:
12 points: Sweden, 10 points: Estonia, 8 points: Australia, 7 points: Spain, 6 points: Norway, 5 points: Czechia, 4 points: Italy, 3 points: Serbia, 2 points: Austria, 1 point: Lithuania.
The vote of the German public was:
12 points: Finland, 10 points: Italy, 8 points: Albania, 7 points: Ukraine, 6 points: Croatia, 5 points: Norway, 4 points: Poland, 3 points: Switzerland, 2 points: Belgium, 1 point: Sweden.
As you might notice, only two countries appear in both lists, and Sweden is last in the German public vote.
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rrxnjun · 1 year
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potential • z. chenle
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pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO
playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars
You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.
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August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM
The music is loud. The weather is humid.
Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.
And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.
“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.
“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.
Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do. 
You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.
You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.
This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.
“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because. 
“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor. 
Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.
Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight. 
And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair. 
This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place. 
“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.
“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.
Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space. 
“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.
“Or we could stay up a little longer.”
Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed. 
You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.
Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…? 
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July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM
If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.
You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.
This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours  of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea. 
The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station. 
You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did. 
Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.
You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory. 
The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.
“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront. 
The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.
If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.
You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.
The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.
Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again. 
When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.
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May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM
One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase. 
Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18. 
It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.
“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.
“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court. 
“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend. 
“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.
“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way. 
Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.
“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game. 
“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.
“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?
The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…
“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years. 
“What about you?” 
“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before. 
“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.
You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much. 
You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.
Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.
“Wanna walk home with me instead?”
And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac. 
“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob. 
When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road. 
You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.
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October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM
Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck. 
The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.
“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.
Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect. 
“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next… 
“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.
“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”
Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”
You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”
The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.
“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”
His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.
And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?
With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.
“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.
“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.
“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”
He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again. 
You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.
And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech. 
After a while, your words turn bitter.
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March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM
“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun. 
“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”
“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport. 
“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.
Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.
Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.
“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.
“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass. 
“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.
Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.
Well, that’s something to worry about later.
Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.
“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.
And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.
“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago. 
“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.
“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.
“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.
“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”
“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.
“What are you talking about?”
“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.
“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”
And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.
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June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM
A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression. 
If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips. 
When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it. 
Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety. 
And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know. 
“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.
“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”
“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.
“What about you?”
Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him. 
“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.
As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals. 
Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.
“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.
You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.
“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”
He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.
Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”
“I mean, what else is there to say?” 
Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?
“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.
“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.
“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.
“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”
“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.
Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”
“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”
“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?” 
“That’s not what I said–”
“But you implied.”
“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.
“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.
Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room. 
“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.
“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.
“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”
“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms. 
This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.
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June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM
“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.
“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.
“Oh come on, I need to know!”
“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”
“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.
“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”
“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?
“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.
“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”
Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.
“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”
Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”
“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”
“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”
“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.
“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.
It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.
“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.
“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.
“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.
Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction. 
“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.
“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question. 
In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.
Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.
His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.
“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off. 
“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead. 
“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”
“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.
“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.
“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.
The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.
Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.
“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.
Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.
“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.
“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”
And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all. 
Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair. 
Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.
“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips. 
He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.
“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”
“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.
“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.
“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.
His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.
In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.
“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.
Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”
“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.
“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”
“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, “‘m not looking down on you.”
Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side. 
“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”
He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”
“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”
His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.
You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time. 
And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid. 
But for a second, he acts like he is. 
“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”
And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.
“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”
Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.
“I think you have to leave.” 
Numb, you follow the orders.
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July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM
“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.
“That’s all you got from this conversation?” 
“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.
“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”
“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”
“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”
“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.
“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.
“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”
Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair. 
“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?” 
Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.
“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused. 
“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”
Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”
Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding,  “the only person you can fix is yourself.”
And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.
But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?
Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?
And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie. 
And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.
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August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM
When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess. 
You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.
You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.
And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.
“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.
“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.
“Chenle–”
“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”
“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.
His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.
Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.
“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair. 
“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.
“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”
When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”
Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.
“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness. 
“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?” 
“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,
and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.
“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.
It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.
Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?
Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.
“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.
“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?
His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?
“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”
You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”
“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.
“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.
“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.
You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.
“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.
Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.
“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”
“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”
“But–”
“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”
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August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM
You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.
So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion. 
You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.
And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.
“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.
“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.
You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”
“Expected me to ignore you?” 
“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.
“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”
Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.
“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”
“Chenle–”
“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future. 
“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?
“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal. 
“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.
“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”
Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.
But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.
And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.
“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.
“In what way?”
“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.
Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore. 
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.
“You know why, Chenle.”
“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.
“Why?”
“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”
Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would. 
“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”
Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.
“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head. 
“Maybe,” he agrees.
And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.
And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it. 
His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.
“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”
He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”
And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that  even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out. 
And he doesn’t.
And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.
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silverstonesainz · 6 months
Text
stuck with me
─── the one where you’re people watching with lando frat!lando x reader (est. relationship)  1k words prompt: holding them in your lap (even if there's plenty of space/seats) + "you know you're stuck with me, right?" "thank god i am…"
d rambles. . . this was a whole lot of nothing. sorry about it.
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friday night on greek row was always chaotic. the streets are a bit busier than normal with sorority women running house to house, scoping out the party with the most booze and the best music. and while not every fraternity is hosting tonight, phi gamma theta is.
the house is packed, which comes as no surprise to you. everyone loves phi gam. 
you squeeze past sweaty body, pushing against people who were trying to get into the kitchen. you just managed to grab yourself a drink after waiting ages for one. it’s the first party of the semester, so the amount of people at the house in the first hour of the night is a bit overwhelming. everyone was more than ready to get drunk at the expense of privileged boys living in the house— yourself included. 
you finally make it back to your boyfriend, who is on the couch in the living room talking to mick about god only knows what. you smile at the people seated around, waving and yelling quick hellos over the loud music. mick begins to move over to the other end of the couch, make a bit of space for you but lando stops him. 
“don’t worry mate, she’s got a perfectly good seat right here.” the boy pats his lap, to which both you and mick grimace. 
“gross,” the german boy mumbles. 
lando laughs as he reaches out for your hand, pulling you down onto his lap. you blush red, a little embarrassed but nonetheless you stay seated against him. you lean on the arm of the couch as opposed to your boyfriend’s chest, leaving yourself open to being part of the conversation in the group. it’s hard to converse over the loud blare of some edm mix, losing a bit of the pieces of mick’s first week and some girl’s stupid lab. you get bits and pieces of the puzzle before the blonde beside you grunts. he pushes himself off the couch. 
“i’ll be back, see who the fuck is in charge of the music.” 
mick saunters off, disappears in a mess of bodies. you turn a bit so that you can slide your arm around lando’s shoulder.  
“feeling alright?” lando says into your ear. you nod and smile as you feel his lips against your cheek. “wanna dance?”
“in a bit.” 
he nods, arm slipping around your waist as you both return to the conversation moving between the couches. the music shifts, all thanks to mick’s doing, but it’s still a bit hard to hear. the music might’ve changed but somehow the volume is still much too loud. it’s only a matter of minutes before the conversation fizzles away and people begin to melt into the chaos. some leave to dance, others to take their place at the pong table, and some into each other. 
you climb off lando’s lap, pulling him up with you. “c’mon. we’re getting me another drink.” 
he nods with a smile, lacing his fingers into yours and pulling you with him. moving about the house is easier with lando, people seem to always make a bit more room for him. you make it to the bar with ease, push past drunk brothers and girls you’ve never seen because it’s lando. the brit leans over the bar to speak to oscar, yells your drink for the younger member to mix. you can’t help the smile when you hear it, the flutter in your chest. tequila orange.
you watch oscar move about he bar, pulling at cups and bottles. lando stops him, grabs his wrist as he leans in. “not the cheap shit. use the one under the bar.” 
oscar nods without missing a beat, returning the half empty bottle of tequila to it’s original spot before lowering himself below the bar. you watch the way he and logan move about the small space with ease. how the other boy swipes the bottle to make a drink for someone else. it’s only a couple of seconds before oscar pops up and hands lando the new red cup for you. they have a brief conversation drowned out by the music before lando waves him off and is dragging you through the house. 
you find yourself stuck to lando, against his chest as he leans against the wall. you hum, sipping your drink as he leans down to point out people and faces unknown to you. he tells stories, like how pierre has been trying to get with some girl he’s currently dancing with for weeks. and how daniel is in denial over how hung up he is over the girl he claims not to be seeing. you giggle along, following along as the story changes from person to person, brother to brother. 
you make a face, nose scrunched as you catch sight of charles and some girl in the corner, lips locked and hands eager. you lean into lando, “who's that?” 
lando follows your gaze, stifling laughter as he shrugs. “never seen her before.” 
“what happened to….” you blank, lips stretching downwards, “… i forgot her name.” 
lando shrugs, “dunno. guess they’re done.” 
and then carlos passes by with his fingers laced with a blonde, and you almost ask lando but he’s quick to answer. “they’re on a break. she needed space so in carlos’s words… it’s fair game.” 
you nod, finishing off the rest of your drink. you look around the house, at the familiar and unfamiliar. you could almost laugh at the shift, the change and yet also the stagnancy of it all. faces, people, they come and go but the habits never seem to change. 
except you and lando. that won’t change.
you turn in lando’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck and he smiles down at you. “what?” 
you shake your head, stepping up onto the tips of your toes with a smile, “nothing its just… you know you’re stuck with me right?”
“thank god. i wouldn’t have it any other way.” lando grins and presses a kiss onto your lips.
“good. otherwise, i’d have to kill you.” 
he laughs, nodding as he presses another kiss to your lips. “noted.”
come to the house party!!
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miss-kitka · 3 months
Text
things that stood out in hofas, but from a devout elriel:
spoilers ahead!
- azriel never gives up truthteller and begs bryce to give it back… yet he gave it to elain without thinking
- he and nesta are friends, as far as we know he still lives in the house of wind with nesta and cassian
- he is very quick to say he doesnt have a mate or significant other
- his shadows dance at all music
- he loves club music/edm
- azriel seemed to be chuckling more than hes typically describe to do 🤔🤔
- his shadows are just very condensed magic
- AZRIEL PROBABLY HAS DUSK COURT BLOOD, as does rhys and his family (rhys looks like ruhn and az says silene looks exactly like rhys’ sister)
- the prison is gonna be the next important location (three mountains, three brothers, three sisters, three journeys)
- btw where is elain?
- poor nesta, rhys is still mean to her even after she saves his wife and childs life 🙁
- the nesta ember and randall bonus chapter had me angry. the only people on her side are ember and feyre. and the men stand around complaining about their mates. it just felt very misogynistic.
- nesta calls cassian an “alphahole” after bryce says it to hunt
- WHERE IS ELAIN?
- shes mentioned ONCE and it makes nestas flames flare up. i would also argue though that they arent talking about elain because theyre being careful to reveal too much to bryce, especially when seers are so sought after. for example, nyx and feyre and mor barely get spoken about too.
- my best guess is these events are right before or very very early in elains book, so maybe well get to see what its like from the other side.
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pop-punklouis · 5 months
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I feel it's not fair at all, poppunk is not my type, On the other hand, I love Louis's voice in 1d songs, and back to you , and couple songs from walls album. And that's it, I don't have anything new to listen to from him. I know this is my problem and my musical taste and it's not Louis's fault. But come on do something like back to you that more people loved it, what's wrong with that? If we want to be logical pop punk has its own fans but they are in the minority.
I know his prejudice fans always says, that's fine, he'll be fine, don't worry about him, let Louis be for us, we don't want to share him, becoming number one is not his goal, but isn't it? Wasn't he happy when he was number one in the UK? I know the fans made it , but it's not like Louis said I'd be upset if I became number one and I don't want it and I refuse to accept it.
He says he doesn't care about commercial success, but who wouldn't want that. When you have the ability and talent, what's wrong with using it and singing a song that will bring everyone's attention to you? I really don't understand why Louis doesn't want to sing something that is popular with the majority of society?
1) this is such a weirdly self-serving ask of an artist like: “create music i want to listen to. if not, i cant listen to it and you’re not going to be successful.” perhaps, louis isn’t making music for you but for himself and if that isn’t for you, that’s fine. but that doesn’t mean he isn’t successful…..?
2) louis made mainstream pop music with one direction for five years. and tried his own hand at it for the first half of his solo career. he’d been in that world for a decade. and for his solo career, it wasn’t really that successful. and most importantly he wasn’t happy??
3) louis has made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to make pop music. that his heart belonged in the indie rock/pop-punk scene. and always has. there’s been remnants of that in his style, his interests, and some of his music for years. he’s given countless interviews and talked himself about the pressure that was put on him to dress up as someone he wasn’t with these major record labels. to hide his accent. to create radio friendly music. to be a puppet on a string for them. he wasted years of his career dealing with that pressure and those contracts.
4) FITF, an album that was created as the most authentic body of work he’s released yet, is what got him the number one. it wasn’t walls. it wasn’t any of the strictly EDM work he released. it was FITF. it was an album that featured the sound that he loves and wants to strive towards going forward. it was louis clear vision babe.
5) louis has seen a growth in his career and his venue sizes that is exponential in just one year. and this isn’t because he’s releasing mainstream pop music. it’s because he’s being authentically him. his music is better. his tour is bigger. his presence is brighter. it’s gravitating so much good his way because of the content he’s creating and how it’s translating to his crowds and him as an artist. he’s a much more confident person than he was just a couple years ago. he’s a much more self-assured person.
6) FITF is part of the reason he’s being booked for these festivals now. it allowed him the growth in his fanbase and live shows to attract fests. if he was still creating music like Walls, i’m not sure if it would be shaking out the same way. and with how his music sounds now, it is open to attracting new fans especially in these big festival settings. most of the songs from walls don’t have the capacity to do that. and that’s just the reality.
7) there isnt just one metric of success. success has many different forms. numbers and charts aren’t the only way to succeed. and louis has lived in that world of success. he’s done all of those things. he’s hit those milestones. they feel good, but they aren’t a driving force behind why he does what he does. he does what he’s doing now because he’s finally being able to show who he is sonically. who he is as a lyricist. who he wants to continue growing into going forward in his career. he’s succeeding through his own journey in the industry. and he’s doing a damn good job controlling that for himself.
8) there’s nothing wrong with pop music. i love pop music. there’s a reason why pop music is popular. but asking your favorite artist to reshape who they’ve steadily been building themselves to be all because you don’t like the sound and you think they need to follow a one-dimensional version of success is….. sad lmao he has worked so hard to be where he is. to feel authentic in the music he’s putting out. and for someone to be like “um anyways i don’t like this. go back to what you were trying so hard to not be. i liked your music better that way” is just ????
9) indie-rock isn’t unsuccessful. it isn’t dead. it’s very alive and successful. genres don’t have to be pop or mainstream to be successful. give music much more credit than that, please.
113 notes · View notes
Text
Note: a second chapter for the DJ fic, also requested by @alexagirlie! I hope you'll enjoy this one too :) first chapter here.
Extra note: mentioned songs; No Boys Allowed and Wickedness, both by Aesthetic Perfection.
Warnings: fluff/smut. 18+!!
pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)
summary: your relationship with the DJ made you insecure at times, which Sihtric wanted to change.
wordcount: 4,2k
Masterlist
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Whenever you saw Sihtric, the DJ who had become your boyfriend only a few weeks ago, you still felt as if it was too good to be true. In the short time you’ve been with him you quickly learned how sweet and funny he was, as well as a little clumsy and impulsive, but you enjoyed it all.
You also loved the way he’d answer your late night calls, always with his headphones on while being in his studio. When you first met, you had no idea that Sihtric was a big deal in the EDM scene. So when you found out he had quite a studio with dozens of mixing panels, laptops and synthesisers, you were surprised and even a little impressed. 
But because he was rather busy with his music and your working schedules were the complete opposite, you so far only had the pleasure of spending one night with him, which was the same night you had met for the first time, and a good night that was. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, as Sihtric offered multiple times to come and see you after he had finished a set at some festival long after midnight, but you always had to decline as you worked early mornings on the weekends. You tried to see each other as often as you could throughout the day, and you trusted that Sihtric told you the truth that he didn’t mess around with any other ladies after his sets. But he knew it all made you a little insecure at times, and he had his mind set on showing you that you were the only one for him.
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‘Gisela asked if we're up for a double date with them,’ you said and looked back over your shoulder as you sat on your boyfriend’s couch.
‘A double date?’ Sihtric looked up from his laptop while seated at a table behind you, ‘so she is still seeing that Uhtred guy, or whatever his name was?’ he asked and closed his laptop.
‘Yeah, they're still together and doing well it seems,’ you said while Sihtric came over to you, ‘like us, I guess,’ you smiled a little shyly.
‘Like us?’ Sihtric frowned, leaned in and took your chin, ‘we’re doing just well?’ he asked with a cheeky smile as he looked down on you while towering over you from behind.
‘Well,’ you blushed, ‘I mean… aren’t we?’
‘I actually thought we were doing great. But… if you think we’re only doing well,’ he shrugged, teasingly.
‘Come on, you know what I meant,’ you chuckled.
‘I do,’ Sihtric smiled and pecked your lips, ‘but you don’t think we’re doing great?’
He moved to sit down next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and he stared into your eyes with a curious and questioning look.
‘No, I do. But…,’ you sighed and shook your head, 'oh, I don't know.'
‘But what?’ Sihtric frowned, ‘what is it, pretty, hm? Talk to me.’
‘I guess… I just wish we could spend more time together, you know? Our schedules are so different, and I understand that and knew that when we started seeing each other. But sometimes I worry that maybe you… you’ll just forget about me-’
‘I could never forget about you,’ Sihtric interrupted, his mismatched eyes darted over your face, ‘you’re… don’t,’ he sighed and took your chin again, tilting your face slightly up to him, ‘you know I want to see you more often too. Don’t ever think I’d easily forget about you or anything like that. There’s no need to have thoughts like that or to be afraid that's going to happen, sweetheart, no need at all. I’m yours, okay?’
You nodded shyly and averted your eyes, but Sihtric lifted your chin once again, forcing eye contact, and he licked his lips while he stared into your eyes.
'I'm yours,' he said again, more firm this time, 'only yours. So, tell me when that double date is supposed to happen, then I can check my schedule.’
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Sihtric had made reservations at some fancy sushi restaurant downtown about a week after you brought up the idea. The original plan was to go for a lunch double date, but Sihtric's schedule was so packed that the only option was to go for dinner, just before he had to play a set round midnight at a rave festival in a city nearby, and you had taken the weekend off work so you could join him to one of his sets again.
When you walked into the restaurant with Sihtric by your side you were greeted by an excited group of staff, who treated your boyfriend as if he was their most loyal customer. Which he kind of was, you soon found out.
'Regular table?' the waiter asked Sihtric.
'Yes, but there's two more people joining us soon too.'
While you were brought to your table, the waiter kept telling you how happy he was to see Sihtric with someone by his side, as the DJ usually came to the restaurant on his own, you were told.
'On his own?' you chuckled as you sat down, 'what? When?'
'I may or may not come here a few times a week,' Sihtric shrugged and sat next to you, 'but that was before I met you.'
'It's true,' the waiter smiled, 'he sits in this specific corner, always at the same table, with his laptop and headphones on for hours, just eating and drinking everything he can.'
'What?' you snorted and looked at your Dane, who chuckled and didn't deny it.
'Yeah, before we met I spent many afternoons here,' he said, 'just mixing music and doing business, you know? I just liked to be in a place where I was surrounded by people without being bothered too much, if that makes sense. When I was still single things could get quite lonely when you're constantly at home mixing music and only seeing people from a distance when playing sets. But now,' Sihtric smiled and nudged your shoulder, 'I go and see you whenever I can, instead of going here.'
'Ah,' the waiter smiled, 'we already wondered why you didn't show up the past few weeks, but I'm happy to hear it's for a good reason.'
Sihtric laughed and apologised for his absence, and the waiter asked if you wanted anything to drink while you waited for your friends. 
'First round is on the house,' the waiter winked.
Once left alone, Sihtric circled his arm around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder while you flipped through the menu. You felt his warm breath on your skin and you inhaled his pleasant scent as he held you close. You had missed him a lot the past week when you barely had time to see each other, and you couldn't get enough of feeling him close to you right now.
'You don't want to look at the menu?' you asked after a moment.
'Nah,' Sihtric smacked his lips and tilted his head to the side so he could look at you, 'I already know what I'm having tonight,' he winked with a cheeky smile while you felt his hand move up your thigh.
You gasped and giggled, just when Gisela and Uhtred walked in.
You and Sihtric both got up, and you embraced Gisela while Sihtric shook hands with Uhtred. Once you were all seated, the waiter returned with the drinks you and Sihtric had ordered already. You sipped your drink while Gisela and Uhtred took a look at the menu, and Sihtric noticed you looked a little insecure as you stared at the other couple, who couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other. Sihtric was very affectionate with you in private, and he had no problem being all over you in public either, but you both just hadn't really discussed yet how to behave around others, as this was the first time you were in public together since that lunch date you had with him after spending that one night together. But during that lunch date you were truly getting to know each other on a deeper level, by just talking instead of making out. But now, since things had slowly become more serious between you two, Sihtric suddenly worried that you felt a little neglected or that he didn't want to be affectionate in public, since he wasn't sitting as close anymore as he was before the other couple arrived. But that hadn't happened on purpose at all.
'Hey,' Sihtric whispered after he scooted closer, 'you already know what you want to order?' his arms snuck around your waist again, and he nuzzled your ear slowly before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.
'I think so, yeah,' you blushed and leaned into his embrace.
'Tell me,' Sihtric hummed and kissed your cheek again, happy to have pulled your attention off Gisela and Uhtred, who were still quite over each other as they sat all cozied up.
'I want the rainbow futomaki,' you smiled and looked up at him, 'and for dessert I'll have the chocolate cake. What about you?'
'I think I'll order the same as you,' Sihtric said and leaned his forehead against yours, 'but for dessert I want something, hm… a little sweeter,' he chuckled in your ear and moved his hand teasingly up your thigh again.
'Oh, really?' you giggled and stopped his hand, to which Sihtric intertwined his fingers with yours.
'Mhm, really,' he whispered and grazed your ear with his teeth, 'are you staying over at my place after my set tonight, pretty?'
'Do you want me to?'
'Of course,' Sihtric took your chin and pushed it up gently, then brushed his lips over yours, 'of course I want you to stay over. I always want you with me when it's possible,' he murmured, and he then suddenly captured you in a firm kiss.
It only took a few seconds before the kiss had deepened, and you ran your hand up Sihtric's thigh under the table while he did the same to you, and he eagerly squeezed your flesh with his warm hand. Gisela cleared her throat when you and Sihtric clearly had gotten lost in your own little world, and you quickly looked down at the table with a flushed face after Sihtric broke the kiss, while he had a satisfied grin on his face and his arm around your neck, keeping you close.
'You guys ready to order?' Gisela asked, then taunted, 'or do you need some privacy?'
'Ready to order,' you said hoarsely and cleared your throat.
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'So,' you said with your mouth full, 'Sihtric wanted to invite you guys to his set tonight.'
'Oh, right,' Sihtric took a quick sip of his drink to wash down the sushi, 'yeah, you two can come if you like,' he looked at Gisela and Uhtred, 'I  know it's a bit last minute, but if you don't have any plans, you know…'
'Really?' Gisela asked with big eyes, and she grabbed Uhtred's hand in excitement.
'Yeah,' Sihtric chuckled, 'you can watch from the side of the stage or be in the crowd,' he shrugged and shoved another piece of sushi in his mouth, 'it's your choice really.'
'The side of the stage?' Uhtred smiled, 'that sounds pretty cool.'
Gisela and Uhtred were both thrilled to tag along, and after everyone had finished their food you all wanted to change outfits first, and you agreed to meet at the rave festival. You went home with Sihtric, where he changed from his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie into ripped, black jeans and a psychedelic coloured shirt. He tied his loose hair back into a bun and grabbed some pastel green coloured glasses. You had already changed into a sexy but comfortable dress and then helped your boyfriend load his equipment in his car, and not much later you sat next to Sihtric as he drove to the festival. He parked at the backstage area and was quick to skip over to your side of the car, where he opened the door for you and helped you out. You looked around and were simply in shock by how big the festival was, and the crowd was already deafening from far behind the stage. But Sihtric was deaf to it, as he was completely captivated by you.
'You look absolutely drop dead gorgeous, pretty,' Sihtric said and held your hands as he looked you up and down.
'Thanks,' you smiled and allowed him to pull you closer, 'you look really good too, handsome.'
'Thanks,' Sihtric chuckled and placed his hands on your waist.
He then slowly walked backwards and pulled you along with him while he kept you close, occasionally pecking your cheek and burying his face in your neck, nuzzling you slowly and lovingly in between quick and short kisses. His soft chuckles in your ear made your knees weak and you wrapped your arms around his neck, after which he pulled your body flush against his, and then his lips soon found yours for a sloppy kiss.
'Can't wait to take you home with me later,' Sihtric smiled and kissed your lips again.
You hummed softly and smiled at him, and just when he leaned in for another kiss, Uhtred and Gisela walked up to you. Sihtric took your hand and walked you all up to the stairs that led to the stage. He didn't have much time before his set would start, so he quickly pulled you with him, up the stairs and to the side of the stage. Sihtric was fast to set up his equipment while you watched him, and when he was done he immediately turned to you while he put on his coloured shades, and pulled you close again.
'You're staying here at the side?'
'I think so, yeah.'
'Good,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your lips, 'then I can see you.'
Only moments after he had kissed you again he was called on stage, and he gave you a few more quick pecks on your lips and a wink before he had to let go of you and step in front of the crowd. You, Gisela and Uhtred were all taken aback by the loud cheering of the thousands of people who had gathered for your boyfriend's set. And it didn't take long before the sea of people in front of the stage became a mass of moving bodies when the first song Sihtric played was one of his own; No Boys Allowed. Gisela and Uhtred soon decided they wanted to be part of the dancing crowd, and they made their way down. You stayed on the side of the stage and enjoyed the beats on your own, while you had the best view of your boyfriend as he played and mixed his music, while smoothly moving his sexy body along to the beat.
Sihtric occasionally looked your way, making sure you were enjoying yourself, and he'd always smile or wink whenever he locked eyes with you. After about half an hour you heard some deafening cheers because Sihtric took off his shirt, as it was rather warm under those spotlights, and the crowd seemed to be pleased by the sight of his body. Sihtric teasingly threw his shirt your way, and you enjoyed the view of your muscular DJ as he transitioned a remix he had made into another one of his own songs; Wickedness. 
Not much later you noticed a group of pretty ladies in the front row who desperately tried to get your boyfriend's attention. Sihtric more or less ignored their constant yelling of his name, and instead kept looking over at you whenever he wasn't busy with his mixing panels. Then, out of nowhere, when Sihtric finally gave the ladies a split second of his attention to shut them up, they all pulled up their shirts and flashed their boobs. Sihtric chuckled lightly and shook his head, then immediately brought his focus back on his equipment again, but you couldn't help feeling a little jealous and insecure because of what had happened. You looked nothing like those pretty ladies. Sure, you were pretty too, but they were almost picture perfect pretty. And what if your boyfriend was actually into that? You couldn't help but overthink when you spotted more and more picture perfect people in the crowd, all enjoying Sihtric's set as they danced rather seductively in revealing clothes. 
You felt a sudden sadness take over and you decided to sit down on one of the big empty boxes which had carried the spotlights that now flickered brightly upon the crowd. Sihtric noticed the sudden change on your face from a distance. He quickly understood why you felt that way as you had been a bit insecure about the relationship from the start, and he took out his phone when he had a moment to spare during his set.
Sihtric: relax, baby, I'm yours
Sihtric: only yours
You looked up from your phone and found Sihtric looking at you from the DJ booth, and he quickly send you another text.
Sihtric: come here
You: what???
You felt a mild panic, you weren't sure if you wanted to be in front of those thousands of people or what exactly Sihtric wanted you to do there. But then at the same time, you desperately wanted to be close to Sihtric and you fought a shy smile when you read his next texts.
Sihtric: come here, pretty
Sihtric: keep me company
Sihtric: just like that first time?
Sihtric: show everyone I'm yours
You looked up at Sihtric again, who lowered his glasses slightly and beckoned you over with a half smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up and, with trembling legs, you stepped on the stage and approached the booth. You joined Sihtric and he took off his headphones, then smiled at you while he pushed his pastel glasses up again, shielding his eyes from the bright lights.
'Hey,' he said and immediately wrapped his warm, sweaty arms around you and kissed your cheek.
You smiled shyly and placed your hands on his waist as you looked up at him, and then Sihtric spun you around, making you face the crowd while he pulled your body back against his and leaned his chin on your shoulder.
'That's… that's a lot of people,' you gasped, to which the DJ chuckled.
'It is,' he agreed, 'and yet you're the only one I care about.'
You couldn't help but smile and then saw the sour looking picture perfect girls in the front row, who gave you a disapproving and judgy look. Probably because you were now blocking their view of Sihtric's shirtless body. You'd be annoyed too if you couldn't admire that sight, to be honest.
'And they only seem to care about your looks,' you said as you looked at the group, 'not your music.'
'Then they're going to have an awful time watching you claim me,' Sihtric chuckled in your ear, then brought his hands back to his mixing panels.
'Claim you?' you turned around in his arms and looked up into his eyes.
'Yeah. Claim me in front of them,' Sihtric smiled slyly, 'in front of everyone.'
He circled one arm around you again and lifted your chin gently up, then he leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over yours until you finally gave in. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, and some people in the crowd even started to whistle when they noticed it.
'That's it,' Sihtric husked, then provoked you, 'come on, give me more, pretty.'
You leaned back in for another kiss, your hands upon his chest while your tongue was as deep inside of his mouth as he was in yours. And for a moment you forgot that thousands of people were to witness it. When you both simultaneously broke the kiss, Sihtric leaned back slightly as he held your face in his hands, and he bit down on his lip while he stared at you with his love-drunk eyes. He moved one hand up into your hair and pulled you in, bringing his lips to your ear.
'I'll treat you so well when we're back home again, pretty,' he rasped and kissed your cheek.
Sihtric put his headphones on again and kept one arm around your waist whenever he could, as he didn't want you to leave his side for the remainder of his set. He arranged some headphones for you too and asked you to help him mix a song into another every now and then. You got better at it as the night progressed, and it weakened Sihtric entirely to watch you work his panels, and he truly only had eyes for you. When he wasn't busy with his equipment, he wasted no opportunity to dance with you. And his moves became more sexually charged with each passing song. His hands were either on your hips, pulling you against his body as he grinded against you, or his hands were sliding up under your dress, just to taunt you. Sihtric was so needy for you and he wanted to make you just as needy for him, not caring who could see it.
You had completely forgotten about Gisela and Uhtred, that when you checked your phone an hour and a half later you were shocked by the amount of texts from Gisela. You quickly read everything and found out that they already went home an hour ago, because Uhtred had gotten unwell after having too much beer apparently.
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When Sihtric's set was over you were fast to leave the stage as you didn't want to be in the way, and you waited at the side while your boyfriend was packing his equipment while another DJ was playing on a stage across the huge field. Sihtric looked your way every now and then, and each time you locked eyes with him he'd smile, wink or blow you a kiss. When everything was packed up, Sihtric took your hand and he pulled you down the stage' stairs and underneath the platform he had just played on, where it was dimly lit and abandoned. The music was loud while you were all alone with him, and he sat you upon one of the large, empty gear boxes. His lips quickly found yours and he kissed you until your lips were bruised, then playfully bit your ear.
'I've decided that I don't want to wait until we're home,' he growled and squeezed your thighs, 'I want my dessert now.'
Sihtric dropped down to his knees and pushed up your skirt, he wasted no time and kissed up your inner thighs. He didn't bother taking off your panties and just pulled them to the side. You could only lean back as he grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders, then held you in a firm grip and pressed soft, teasing kisses onto your wet folds. You bit down on your lower lip as you threw your head back, your hand moving into his hair, gripping tightly when he began to slowly kitty lick you. Your breathing became heavier as the music continued to play and covered up the pathetic moans that left your mouth as your boyfriend stuck to his promise of treating you well. He held you tighter in his grip, firmly keeping you in place when you began to squirm as you reached your climax, and he didn't let go until you finished entirely. Your legs were shaking and you had to push his face away when you quickly became overstimulated, and you caught a glimpse of the satisfied smirk on his face before he wiped his mouth and leaned in to kiss you passionately.
'I fucking love you,' he breathed, meaning every word he said, 'I love you so much, pretty.'
'I- I love you too,' you nearly moaned, head still spinning from your climax and you clung onto his broad shoulders as he held you, 'Sihtric-'
'Listen to me,' he said in your ear and placed his hand on the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him, and his lips grazed your ear as he spoke, 'I'm yours, okay? Only yours. I don't care about the women in the crowd or the ladies who slide into my dms-'
'You…you have ladies sliding into your dms?'
'You're not listening to me,' Sihtric rasped, 'I don't care about any of them unless it's you,' he quickly pecked your cheek, 'I'm yours.'
'Mhm,' you hummed, almost inaudible due to the loud music above you.
'Say it, pretty. Tell me I'm yours.'
'You're m-mine,' you blushed heavily, and luckily he couldn't see it.
Sihtric chuckled in your ear, and the sound weakened your knees all over again as you still sat down, your legs wrapped around his waist now.
'Tell me again, beautiful,' he said, and you felt his lips curl into a smile as he kept it pressed against the shell of your ear.
'You're mine,' you chuckled, a little more confident this time, but it still wasn't confident enough for him.
'I wanna hear you say it again.'
'You're mine, Sihtric,' you said and looked up at him, seeing him smile as glimpses of light snuck through the stage floor and casted a dim light around you. And he leaned back in again to make you hear him above the deafening sound of the cheering crowd as the music had stopped.
'That's right,' Sihtric said, 'yours. I'm only yours, my pretty baby.'
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83 notes · View notes
The Arcana HCs: M6's ringtones
Julian
For Asra: Hot n Cold by Katy Perry
I mean, does it even need explaining? Yes, Asra knows this is their assigned ringtone, and no, they don't mind it at all
For Nadia: Run the World (Girls) by Beyonce
Nadia didn't know that this was her ringtone until you told her, to which she looked flattered and Julian began to stutter
For Muriel: Why Can't We Be Friends by War
Does Julian respect that Muriel is allowed to feel however he wants to about him? Yes. Does the dislike still bother him? ... maybe
For Portia: Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses
This was the most sentimental ringtone Portia would allow him to set for her, and only because of the sick guitar intro
For Lucio: Mean by Taylor Swift
He's not going to lie, some of Lucio's accusatory words did hurt a little, especially after he saved his life with that amputation
For you: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley
A classic. It sums up his feelings for you perfectly, and if you happen to dial him in earshot he'll croon along for you
Asra
For Julian: Dumb Ways to Die by Tangerine Kitty
There's no hard feelings between them anymore, but the moment Julian decided dying counted as a solution this became his song
For Nadia: That's My Girl by Little Mix
She might not remember how close they were, but after the tea parties they had together, he'll always be rooting for her
For Muriel: Lean On by Major Lazer
Never let it be said that they can't be sentimental. They'll just do it to EDM and cheesy lyrics for maximum teasing potential
For Portia: Drama by AJR
If you think for a second that he and Portia didn't eventually bond over their love of collecting tea, I beg you to reconsider
For Lucio: Stupid Hoe by Nicki Minaj
You can try to shame them for this all you want. They are humming along, and have been known to keep singing after picking up
For you: Tear in my Heart by twenty one pilots
You're the tear in his heart, and that means he's alive. Changes it sometimes to lighten the mood, but always switches back
Nadia
For Julian: Rasputin by Boney M.
She doesn't remember him, but there's one thing she knows for sure - the only thing he does more shamelessly than flirt is dance
For Asra: Daydreamer by AURORA
Doesn't the title of the song say enough? Even if it didn't, the dreamy music fits them too well too deny
For Muriel: Lean on Me by Bill Withers
Here is what she knows about Muriel: Vesuvia failed him, and she wants him to have better. Now if she could just get his trust ...
For Portia: Count on Me by Bruno Mars
The person who sat by her as she slept and took care of her needs after awakening and stuck by her side? She can count on her
For Lucio: Shout Out to My Ex by Little Mix
Never let it be said that Nadia is afraid of growing and getting stronger. Though saying he broke her heart is an overstatement
For you: Halo by Beyonce
Just ... read through the lyrics. She's never going to hear you call her without remembering what you mean to her
Muriel
For Julian: D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F. by Kevin Bloody Wilson
Specifically the chorus - "Do I Look, Like I Give A F***: DILLIGAF." He doesn't plan on getting chummy with him any time soon
For Asra: Stressed Out by twenty one pilots
He knows they both had to grow up and suffer, but he still gets nostalgic for the quieter years they spent as kids in the woods
For Nadia: Kings & Queens by Ava Max
Is she intimidating? Yeah, but he'd pop champagne to celebrate her succeeding Lucio any day. More queens on the throne, please
For Portia: W.I.T.C.H. by Devon Cole
Nadia may be intimidating, but Portia's the one he truly fears the most. This woman is small and mighty and way too unpredictable
For Lucio: When Will You Die? by They Might Be Giants
Does he have any murderous intent towards the count? not really. Will he sleep easier when he knows he's all the way gone? ... yeah
For you: All of Me by John Legend
Well it's true, isn't it? You pulled him back out into the world and earned his total trust. But he's never letting you hear his ringtone
Portia
For Julian: Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance
As all younger sisters must, she chose this solely to make fun of him. Julian, on the other hand, is flattered at the iconic song choice
For Asra: Jericho by Iniko
She knows there's better choices out there, but it's just the vibes, y'know? Try convincing her that they haven't been to outer space
For Nadia: Best Friend by Saweetie
Can't resist singing along to it every time it goes off. Which means that she'll always answer with "hi bestie!!" even when she shouldn't
For Muriel: Y.M.C.A. by Village People
1) She doesn't know him that well, 2) it's a really good song, 3) telling him not to feel down is what she wants to do anyways
For Lucio: Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys
*cue gremlin face* sure, she never met him personally, but the dude wasn't a great husband for her bestie. giggles each time
For you: I Will Always Love You by Dolly Parton
Likes to belt this out to you when she picks up. Whether she squeaks on the high notes each time is up to the listener
Lucio
For Julian: House of Memories by Panic! at the Disco
You can't get amputated on the battlefield by a newbie without trauma bonding at least a little bit. Besides, it's catchy
For Asra: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance
Ohh, he remembers when they were a teenager, and he does not want to go back. He had good reason to be uneasy around them
For Nadia: We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift
Yes, he knows their marriage ended because he died, but indulge him a little if sometimes he likes to fantasize that he called it off
For Muriel: Sorry by Justin Bieber
Well, what other song are you supposed to give the victim of your past self? Okay so maybe it isn't the best apology, but it is "sorry"
For Portia: Sweet but a Psycho by Ava Max
Oh, he knows that the force truly worth fearing is not the woman you did wrong - it's her loyal and unhinged best friend.
For you: Teenage Dream by Katy Perry
You do make him feel like a teenager again! It's not nearly as glamorous as life used to be, but having you there for it is exciting
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fob4ever · 1 year
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when young and menace came out people had such a strong visceral reaction to it- the chorus specifically- that it made me, a then-baby fob fan, double down on my love for it- on the aspects i thought had merit and were objectively good. and i understood why y&m was polarising but i think so many people wrote off mania because of how sonically different y&m was and how much they really did not like it.. but i think now, 5 years on from mania’s release date… i still think its a good fob song! its very obviously one of the most different and experimental fob and i think its a very brave and fresh song- even if you dont like it. sonically, i agree that the chorus is very jarring and hard to listen to- but i think the way the verses are structured and written make up for that. people calling it edm when it came out have no idea what edm is lol i think the song is a smart new take on the fob brand as a whole. i still love love love patrick’s vocals in y&m and how it caters to his crooning/lower reigster- how atmospheric and eerie the whole song is and how patrick’s vocals are allowed to breathe and shine in the verses. i think people look to heaven’s gate and bkt when they talk about the standout vocal moments in mania but i really do think y&m has one of the best vocal performances on the whole album- i think its much more “controlled” and specific than HG or bkt.. which is what separates it and makes it really really good
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project-sekai-facts · 2 months
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What is your favorite commissioned song for each character? (Sorry if you've already answered this before)
this has been sitting in my inbox since december because I was waiting for all characters to get their 4th song... so minori has 5 songs now screw waiting it's not massively likely that Ena4 or Toya4 are gonna beat my top comms for them.
Ichika: either the WALL or Ryuusei no Pulse. I keep changing my mind on which one I like more. I don't really have much to say about them because I don't have either ranked particularly high, but Chiirurin is always a good vocalist, her high note in the WALL is really good.
Saki: Stella. This has been my favorite L/n song since I started playing. I'm not entirely sure why, it just really struck a chord with me. I love the lyrics as well. I'm actually listening to it while writing this lol.
Honami: STAGE OF SEKAI. I really love the emotion in this one, especially in the final chorus. The instrumental is really good too and you honestly can feel the emotion in the song through that alone. Regulus is really good too.
Shiho: Voices. It's just a total banger. The guitar solo is probably my favorite part of the song if I'm being honest. I hope they recommission yuyoyuppe at some point.
Minori: Tenshi no Clover. All her songs are really good, so this was hard to pick. I love energetic idol songs like that and it fits Minori really well. Zenshin zenrei MORE MORE JUMP!
Haruka: IF. rip haruka for not getting her 4th song. I'm not massive on any of her comms to be honest. I do like IF and Float Planner, they're just quite low on my ranking comparatively. Also I keep going back and forth on which one I like more but right now it's IF.
Airi: MORE! JUMP! MORE!. This was my original favorite MMJ song. It's super catchy and fun. Even if the lyrics are nothing to do with the event or Airi, I still think it's a great song.
Shizuku: Metamo Re:born. My favorite MMJ song! Really catchy and has a nice beat to it. I like how 'sparkly' it sounds as well.
Kohane: Hitsuji ga Ippiki. The instrumental is so good, and this is probably one of VBS' best songs vocally. Akina especially sounds amazing.
An: Awake Now. We had to wait so long for this but it was so worth it. Again the instrumental is great and Jiena sounds so good in this song, I love An's solo version. I have this ranked just above Hitsuji on my tierlist lol
Akito: CRaZY. This song made my change my top 5 songs for the first time since spring 2022. It's just so good and all of VBS sounds amazing as always. I also like how it reflects Akito's character development from the event. My favorite rotation 4 song so far.
Toya: RAD DOGS. My original #2 song and current #3. I love the combination between classical and EDM, and HachiojiP did such a good job considering he didn't have any experience with classical. Also the Bad Dogs rap section is so good.
Tsukasa: Mr. Showtime. If I'm being honest I don't usually like showtunes like this a whole lot, they can be very hit or miss for me, but this is very much a hit. Daichan did really well in this song. My favorite part though is the lyrics, I love how Yama used different meanings for certain phrases in parentheses.
Emu: Hoshizora Orchestra or Niccori Chousa-tai no Theme. Again I keep changing my mind and they're pretty much tied for me. I like them for completely different reasons as well; Hoshizora Orchestra is pretty melancholic despite it's cutesy tune, and Niccori is just really fun to listen to.
Nene: Hoshizora no Melody. Easy pick for me, I love the instrumental a whole lot and listened to the preview over and over at the time. Also the lyrics are so good, I love how they tell the entire story of Wandasho and show how much they mean to each other.
Rui: potato ni Natte iku. Still my favourite song in the game, I'm really never moving on from this one. I just really like the instrumental. Showtime Ruler is an incredibly close 2nd place though (really close. guitar solo at the end goes hard and also "I will never feel lonely ever again")
Kanade: Samsa. It's just an amazing song, but I also appreciate how teniwoha managed to connect the novella to Kanade and Mafuyu's story. Probably my favorite song from rotation 3.
Mafuyu: Bug. I know it's a boring choice but it's a good song, it's popular for a reason. Also RUIRUI'S SOLO VERSION. She's such a talented vocalist and is really good at conveying Mafuyu's emotions.
Ena: Kagirinaku Haiiro e. I've actually always liked the instrumental of this one. Also the lyrics fit Ena's story really well. However the final chorus totally steals the show, I loop that part of the song specifically a lot. Favourite Niigo song.
Mizuki: IDSMILE. I actually didn't like this song much at first because it's not the sort of thing I usually like. The lyrics are what got me to like it as much as they do. I've mentioned before that Mizuki is my favorite niigo member, so I'm slighly biased in that regard, but they really struck an emotional chord with me.
If anyone's interested my top 10 is potato ni Natte iku -> Showtime Ruler -> RAD DOGS -> CRaZY -> Beyond the way -> Cinema -> Kagirinaku Haiiro e -> CYBERPUNK DEAD BOY -> IDSMILE -> Gekkou
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