#days our search has failed us: 46
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sometimes the metal gear solid community gets a little bit silly and fails to recognise the whole point of metal gear solid v’s ending (major spoiler warning for metal gear solid v: the phantom pain and a little one for the ending of mgs3).
pretty long but i eventually get to the point.
i’m back on my tumblr essay bullshit because it’s lesbian visibility week and i can do what i fucking want.
so i’m specifically talking about episode 46, where the whole “oh my god i’m actually playing as a random medic not big boss” is revealed, which for me was really fucking cool (as i wasn’t around on 2015 tumblr or other places the twist was guessed at) and i didn’t see it coming at all.
i believe some time in one of the earlier missions you can briefly look into the reflection of yourself in a helicopter window and see the character you created at the start of the game instead of big boss’ face, but i personally didn’t see this. i know there was some symbolism with the usage of david bowie’s song “the man who sold the world” as well, but i wasn’t aware of that (call me a dumbass if you want).
but this isn’t really the point of this post, the actual point is how most people don’t look past the body double bullshit and don’t listen to what big boss is saying (as i’ve never seen anyone talk about it further on any platform; someone probably has though). this is a HIDEO KOJIMA game, and this man (even despite the death threats) never fails to serve us one hell of a fucking time.
one thing that’s important to note with this, is that metal gear solid loves breaking the fourth wall as much as it loves fucking over otacon (my poor guy doesn’t get a fucking rest in any of these games). from the psycho mantis boss fight in mgs1, which includes the controller port switch, ps1 card read and mono tv reference, to having the opportunity to wait 7 days to beat the end in mgs3, it just loves it. from subtle to extremely obvious. which is where my point comes in.
there is one specific section of big boss’ speech that plays during the episode 46 cutscene that most people just presume to not mean anything than talking to venom.
here’s the speech:
“Now do you remember? Who you are? What you were meant to do? I cheated death, thanks to you. And thanks to you I've left my mark. You have too - you've written your own history. You're your own man. I'm Big Boss, and you are too... No.. He's the two of us. Together. Where we are today? We built it.This story - this "legend" - it's ours. We can change the world - and with it, the future. I am you, and you are me. Carry that with you, wherever you go. Thank you... my friend. From here on out, you're Big Boss.”
but what i want you to pay attention to is this part of it:
“And thanks to you I've left my mark. You have too - you've written your own history. You're your own man. I'm Big Boss, and you are too... No.. He's the two of us. Together. Where we are today? We built it. This story - this "legend" - it's ours.We can change the world - and with it, the future. I am you, and you are me.”
i’ve highlighted the most important bits in red (so most of it.
most people believe that big boss is talking to venom, a random medic who happened to get onto a helicopter in the game before. but he’s not.
he’s talking to us. to you. to me. a player who’s sat down and got on a hundred different helicopters across the games. someone who has killed the boss; someone who has saved the world from nuclear annihilation; someone has done countless search and rescue missions. someone who sat down one day and said: i’m gonna start mgs3 today. someone who has sat down and said: i’ll play peace walker today; i’ll play ground zeroes; i’ll play the phantom pain.
these are video games. we play the characters. the things we do, are what they do. we’re the ones who decided to play metal gear solid 3 and complete it.
we are the ones who have built big boss’ legend by playing the games. “we built it. this story — this “legend” — it’s ours”: our actions in phantom pain help build his legacy. we can do it completely stealthily or just fucking rambo it and blow a whole unit up for shits and giggles. and yes, how we play in metal gear v don’t directly change big boss’ legacy from what it’s written as in the early games, because v wasn’t even a thought then, but it doesn’t matter.
“i’m big boss, and you are too… no, he’s the two of us. together.”
we are big boss. we play as him, fuck around with npc’s as him, and he’s us. he plays out whatever fuckery we’re gonna get up to in any of the games, he’s like a vessel. we’ve been able to play as this bitch for 19 years now, in idea contributing to his legacy.
we don’t think “let’s blow up a building” and go and do it in real life when we’re playing mgsv. we instead get big boss to blow up a building.
venom is a random medic who gets his whole life fucked up by his boss (i still love him though). we’re just the people who play as him. it’s like how the whole point of mgs2 was us not being able to be solid snake, the whole point of mgs5:tpp is us not being able to be big boss. i could go deeper into how that also applies to venom due the big boss’ legacy, but i won’t (i can’t be bothered).
big boss is a cool, unable-to-talk-to-women type of bitch, and we love him (maybe i am big boss, god), but he’s also a war criminal (maybe not). why is he a war criminal? because of the shit we (are told by the story to) do. there is no big boss without us, the players. we are the underlying factor in metal gear. there is no story without us, because if we didn’t play it, nobody knows the story do they? we cause everything that ever happens to happen.
“i am you, and you are me.”
considering what i’ve said before this section of the quote this line is pretty simple. sums up everything i’ve said so far: we’re big boss, and he’s us. but he’s actively saying that we are joined in some way.
another section of the speech:
“And thanks to you I've left my mark. You have too - you've written your own history. You're your own man.”
this is probably the most important quote in this speech, relating to what i’m talking about.
makes sense both in the context of him talking to venom and us. blah-de-blah, he’s saying venom’s not the same person as him but the same idea, blah blah blah. but he’s also saying how we have our own lives. this part literally acknowledges how we’re actual people. talk about a fucking fourth wall break, subtle as it is.
we have written our own history in our lives. carved our names into time, even if no one will ever speak our name again after we die. somewhere, someplace, there is proof that we have existed. a pet that misses a certain face; a person who will remember the stranger who helped them all those years ago, but not their name; a death certificate buried somewhere in a pile of paperwork.
we are our own people. i am not you, and you are not me, but we are both people. we think differently, have lived differently, and now you’re reading this because we both like the same video games.
we, as i mentioned earlier, are the only reason anything has happened in the metal gear universe (as far as us as individuals are concerned). thanks to us, big boss has a legacy. has a reputation.
the thing is, obviously venom isn’t actually hearing this. venom isn’t a real person. but i am. you are. we’re the ones actually hearing it; we’re the ones being spoken to. kojima wouldn’t include this in the fucking game for the sake of venom. it’s hideo fucking kojima for god’s sake, he does everything for a reason.
venom is a fucking video game character. he is pixels on a screen. he can’t hear shit if he’s not programmed to. we can hear what we want, not just what we’re meant to.
and honestly, the entire speech is really fucking sad if you think about it in the way that kojima was the one to write it, and it was his last metal gear game after nearly 30 years. thinking about it in the context of this is kojima speaking to us, makes me want to have a mgs2 otacon level breakdown.
the line towards the end of the entire speech “thank you, my friend. from here on out, you’re big boss” is also important as well. the idea that we are big boss, and then there was never another metal gear game (as in by kojima, i’m not even gonna grace the 2018 metal gear abomination by saying its name) after that. the whole series does a full circle.
we start, all the way back in 1987’s metal gear, in outer heaven, 1995, and end in 2015’s metal gear solid v: the phantom pain, in outer heaven, 1995. the cassette tape even says ‘operation intrude n313’ on it. 28 years after the very first game, we end in the very place we started. i think that’s really cool, but that’s just me.
it’s been 8 years since phantom pain now, and there is still new shit being discovered in this series, still a shit ton of people who play these games everyday and shit on huey emmerich (fuck him). just for funsies.
i think that’s the end of this fucking deep dive. this has took fucking hours. i did this for fun. what a fucking weirdo. hope you enjoyed, i guess.
i haven’t seen anyone talk about this, though someone has bound to have, so i know this isn’t some new revelation to this community.
bye bitches, and don’t forget to get your daily dose of bad bitchery.
#metal gear solid#metal gear#mgs#mgs5#mgsv#metal gear solid 5#metal gear solid v#big boss#venom snake#the phantom pain#metal gear solid the phantom pain
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LIGHT OF LIFE 418
John 1:4
UNDERSTANDING PROPHETIC MANDATES 52: FULFILLMENT OF PROPHECY 10
Amo 3:7 CERTAINLY, THE ALMIGHTY LORD DOESN'T DO ANYTHING UNLESS HE FIRST REVEALS HIS SECRET TO HIS SERVANTS THE PROPHETS. GW
So, the Jews couldn’t place Jesus’ nativity or origin in Galilee. They believed it couldn’t be at all.
Joh 7:52 They argued, “Oh, so now you’re an advocate for this Galilean! SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES, NICODEMUS, AND YOU’LL SEE THAT THERE’S NO MENTION OF A PROPHET COMING OUT OF GALILEE!” So with that their debate ended, TPT
It can be so bad that even the devil develops a derogatory statement about this origin of Jesus.
Joh 1:45-46 Philip then found Nathanael and said, "WE HAVE FOUND THE ONE THAT MOSES AND THE PROPHETS WROTE ABOUT. He is JESUS, THE SON OF JOSEPH FROM NAZARETH." Nathanael asked, "CAN ANYTHING GOOD COME FROM NAZARETH?" PHILIP ANSWERED, "COME AND SEE." CEV
Jesus was not born in Galilee but in Bethlehem.
God only constrained his “parents” to move to Galilee just to fulfill the scriptures of his deliberately professed Origin: Galilee and Nazareth.
Mat 2:23 And he came and was living in a town named Nazareth: SO THAT THE WORD OF THE PROPHETS MIGHT COME TRUE, HE WILL BE NAMED A NAZARENE. BBE
Now, this HASTE in expectation of Prophetic Fulfillment also made some people believe that the 2nd coming of Jesus must have happened already.
This happened about 1950 years ago, in the time of Paul, and had its damaging consequences.
2Ti 2:17-18 and what they say will spread like cancer. Hymenaeus and Philetus are like that. They have abandoned the truth. THEY ARE DESTROYING THE FAITH OF OTHERS BY SAYING THAT PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED HAVE ALREADY COME BACK TO LIFE. GW
We might want to ask though: “is there anything Christians can or should do to Speed up the Fulfillment of Prophecy; are our assigned Processes, factors to FULFILLMENT TIME?”
2Pe 3:12 as you wait for the Day of God AND DO YOUR BEST TO MAKE IT COME SOON—the Day when the heavens will burn up and be destroyed, and the heavenly bodies will be melted by the heat. GNB
That verse doesn’t really mean that we’re the reason why it happens faster. It’s only saying that when we have fulfilled the required processes, we can be surer of its Fulfillment without delay.
If you delay or reject your assignment in facilitating Prophecies, someone else does it in your place.
Mat 24:14 And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached throughout the whole inhabited earth as a testimony to all the nations, AND THEN THE END WILL COME. NET
The TIME of the very END is fixed. If you are supposed to be preaching to all but you decline or delay, that TIME will not change or fail.
Rather, someone else will be appointed to replace you.
So, rather than sitting and musing over why there’s delay in prophetic fulfillment, we should be more concerned about keeping on with our own responsibilities, while we wait.
2Pe 3:13 But God made a promise to us. AND WE ARE WAITING FOR WHAT HE PROMISED—a new sky and a new earth. That will be the place where goodness lives. ERV
Therefore, while there are things we should be doing to [seemingly] hasten the fulfillment, there are things we can do nothing about but simply wait till they spring up.
Lam 3:26 It is good to go on hoping and quietly waiting for the salvation of the Lord. BBE
But we have seen that there are prophecies that are conditional and won’t be fulfilled if you don’t follow the PROCESS. Like with King Saul: if he failed to follow the instructions, he’d miss the Crown.
So, how does this relate to the DEFINITENESS of TIME of Prophetic Fulfillment.
Heb 10:36-37 You need endurance so that AFTER YOU HAVE DONE WHAT GOD WANTS YOU TO DO, you can receive what he has promised. "Yet, the one who is coming will come soon. HE WILL NOT DELAY. GW
We are not going back to TYPES OF PROPHECY here again, but we must mention SCALE OF PROPHECY, implying the acknowledgment of what is most important in a specific Prophecy.
We must remember that the Divine Appointment of Kings for Israel was determined long ago, and it wasn’t about Saul or his family lineage.
Gen 49:10 Men from Judah's family will be kings. THE SIGN THAT HIS FAMILY RULES WILL NOT LEAVE HIS FAMILY BEFORE THE REAL KING COMES. Then many people will obey and serve him. ERV
We will discuss this further next session.
You will not work outside your Time in the Scale of Prophecy, IN JESUS NAME.
Come back on Monday, for more of this insightful and enlightening Sub-Subtopic.
Keep Shinning!
Brother Prince
Friday, October 13, 2023
08055125517; 08023904307
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jul 26
period?
"seventy weeks are determined for your people and for your holy city, to finish the transgression, to make an end of sins, to make reconciliation for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophecy, and to anoint the Most Holy." dan 9:27
how else can i say it? with baited breath my anticipation has reached a crescendo. i am worse than a little child at christmas. could that be wrong? "unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven." matt 18:3 will you fail to anticipate just so you won't suffer disappointment? the anticipation is part of the joy. when we look around at all the world happenings and refer to scripture being constantly fulfilled, i can only ask: how can anyone fail to be expectant?
sundown tonight will herald the arrival of the ninth of av; a time when many are in high anticipation of the rapture. already i can hear everybody shouting their favorite scripture: "but of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only." matt 24:36 but does that mean we aren't to watch, speculate and anticipate? then why are we also told: "but you, brethren, are not in darkness, so that this day should overtake you as a thief." 1 thess 5:4 Jesus scolded those at His first coming because they weren't watching; weren't expecting for His coming. (consider this also: jerusalem is 7-9 hours ahead of america - a completely different day and hour. makes one go, uhm!) speaking of which, is no one taking notice of the turmoil now happening in israel; on the brink of civil war? again, uhm!
have we finally arrived? could this possibly be it? yes, i will be watching the 3 or 4 succeeding days as man's calendar and timing is imperfect. and yes, the day may indeed come and go as all others before have. the thing is, we just "anticipate" days. we "expect" Jesus. "i see Him, but not now; i behold Him, but not near." num 24:17
i know many believe in imminence, and yes, God can do whatever He wants. but He has set the rules and He would be the last one to break them. everything our Lord Jesus ever did was to fulfill scripture, and do we really think the retrieval of His bride would be any different, on some random day? i can think of no better time for it than the true pentecost and the feast of new wine. may the retrieval of the church be heralded on the self-same day it was birthed. God likes to do things on the self-same day.
i believe He wants us to watch and anxiously await it, and yes, to "search" out possibilities. that's exactly why we study the times and seasons, looking carefully at what scripture has foretold. why else would He give us signs? "declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times things that are not yet done." isa 46:10 yes, it's all in there. "it is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of kings is to search out a matter." prov 25:2 are we not kings and priests to our God?
a period is usually placed at the end of something. i think our God is fixing to put an exclamation point. the end! that's all folks! you've had your way and see where's it's gotten you. now we are going to do it MY way! you have frolicked in your plans and pleasures; in your mocking and poking. have you never heard of the law of sowing and reaping? all those things you relish shall come upon you. now learn how it should be done.
i read of how it was in the days of noah. "for as in the days before the flood, they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noah entered the ark." matt 24:38 of course, then it was too late for them. then i look at today's world, surely just as much evil and lawlessness abounds as then. and what are we doing? monitoring our social media, gossiping, frolicking in sinful pleasures, wasting time in idle pursuits of "entertainment" and anything for the flesh. all this as they seek now to groom the innocents who managed to survive the birthing process.
"he has blinded their eyes and hardened their hearts, lest they should see with their eyes, lest they should understand with their hearts and turn, so that I should heal them." john 12:40 that "he" is not God, but satan. all the while the "evil elite" plan our demise as multitudes march blindly in step - even as the jews thought they were taking showers and were gassed instead.
i can speak for no one but myself, but my heart is grieved as lot's must have been in his day. "assuredly, I say to you, all these things will come upon this generation." matt 23:36 yes, the culmination of all the sinful, evil, unrighteous deeds done here-to-fore is coming and it's coming quickly. it's time to enter the ark and let God shut the door.
even as noah pulled the dove safely back into the ark for seven more days when there was no respite to be found, God will pull His elect safely back to Him for seven years while the tribulation plays out. then, at the end, even as the dove returned with a fig leaf in it's mouth, we shall return with an israel fully redeemed and restored, shouting, "blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!" matt 23:39
God formed the world with a whisper, but He's getting ready to shout. now He's going to show us all how it should be; how it will be in His eternal plan.
i don't know about anyone else, but my tent is getting old and wearing out. it's crying out for the new one He promised those who believe; the new wineskin for the new wine it will hold. "for this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality." 1 cor 15:53 such a beautiful transformation in the "twinkling of an eye." my heart has already been raptured. i'm just waiting on the rest of me to follow. how about you? do you still have ties to this world? it's time to loosen them.
the Lord gave me a "visual" (not a vision) the other day as i was trying to transfer from my wheelchair. i have to push down with one hand while i pull up with the other. i think that's a perfect example of how we should live our lives. we must push down on sin while we lift up by grace. push down on sin and make sure there is nothing "sticky" holding us back. things that might well hold us down as we are being pulled up. things that might cause us to look back with longing, i.e., lot's wife.
"my beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag." sos 2:9 if we are to be His bride, we must search for Him fervently as the shulamite did. let us dress in our wedding gown - our righteous acts He gave us to perform. let us sleep lightly in our gown, listening for His call.
i have been spending some time in fasting and prayer; time seeking His will that i might not miss it. for those of you so inclined, health allowing, i believe it would be beneficial as well. just whatever you might feel you can do, even a meal. i believe God will honor it.
yes, we have the aforementioned scripture about the day and hour but we also have this warning. "watch therefore, for you do not know when the master of the house is coming — in the evening, at midnight, at the crowing of the rooster, or in the morning - lest, coming suddenly, he find you sleeping. and what I say to you, I say to all: watch!" mark 13:35-37 my precious Lord, please let today be "the day." nevertheless, not my will but thine be done.
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The Secret Of The Quiet Heart
He says, “Stop your striving and recognize that I am God! I will be exalted over the nations! I will be exalted over the earth!” — Ps 46:10
Then Naomi said, “Stay put, my daughter, until you know how the matter turns out. For the man will not rest until he has taken care of the matter today.” — Ruth 3:18
Paradise has vanished from our world, as the picture of a landscape vanishes when swept by storm. And our race stands in much the same plight as Naomi and Ruth in this old-world story. We have lost our inheritance, and the one barrier between us and despair is the Person and Work of our Lord Jesus Christ. But, thank God, we need not doubt the sequel. As Boaz claimed the estate for Ruth, so may we be confident that Jesus Christ will never be at rest till this sin-stained and distracted world is restored to her primitive order and beauty, as when the morning stars sang for joy.
Jesus is our near Kinsman by His assumption of our nature. He is the closest and dearest Friend of our race, who stooped to die for our redemption. And because He carried our nature in Himself to heaven and wears it, there is an indissoluble bond between us. Sit still! Do not fret! He will never fail, as He will indeed never forsake!
Let us seek the quiet heart in our prayers. Prayer must arise within us as a fountain from unknown depths. But we must leave it to God to answer in His wisest way. We are so impatient and think that God does not answer. A child asked God for fine weather on her birthday, and it rained! Someone said, “God didn’t answer your prayer.” “Oh yes,” she replied, “He did, God always answers, but He said No!” God always answers! He never fails! Be still! If we abide in Him, and He abides in us, we ask what we will, and it is done. As a sound may dislodge an avalanche, the prayer of faith sets God's power in motion.
In times of difficulty—be still! Thine enemies are plotting the overthrow! They laugh at thy strong confidence! But hast thou not heard His voice saying: “This is the way, walk ye in it”? Then leave Him to deal with thy foes from whatever quarter they come. He is thy Rock, and rocks do not shake. He is thy High Tower, and a high tower cannot be flooded. Thou needest mercy, and to Him belongeth mercy. Do not run hither and thither in panic! Quietly wait, hushing thy soul, as He did the fears of His friends on the eve of Gethsemane and Calvary. “Rest in the Lord; wait patiently for Him.” “Be still, for He will not rest until He hath finished the thing this day.”
Prayer
If this day I should get lost amid the perplexities of life and the rush of many duties, do Thou search me out, gracious Lord, and Bring me back into the quiet of Thy presence. Amen.
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Bf1 server reserved slot
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Beginner's Guide to Battlefield 1 - TrueAchievements.
Answer: It is mostly up to personal preference, but I believe it is. Here is a list of things that I like more about BF4 than BF1. 1. In the DLC you still have to work to unlock things 2. Less Insane map loading times 3. Better Bullet drop off (Sniping actually requires more skill) 4. Better rec.
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One of Battlefield 5's biggest and most exciting changes seems quite direct in killing off its lineage icon-itis. Pressing the spot key won't tag enemies but place a "last known" marker at. Feb 10, 2022 · any know how to ad a reserved slot? i wanna add in my server 5 slots, 4 for public slots and 1 for a special rol.
See also:
Coin Master Free Spin And Coin App
Bad Girls Club Spin Offs
Spinning Bed
Poker Run Nelson 2017
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Text
Heartbreak
Open Heart, Book 1, Chapter 10 (Part 2)
Retold through social media posts and messages
All posts here
Posted Saturday
10:53 PM
23 minutes before
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Received Saturday
10:56 PM
20 minutes before
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Posted Saturday
10:57 PM
19 minutes before
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Received Saturday
10:59 PM
17 minutes before
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Received Saturday
11:15 PM
1 minute before
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Received Saturday
11:18 PM
2 minutes after
from: Sienna Trinh
to: Lilac Allende
Transcript of voicemail:
Hey you! Sorry I called you late! I was baking my world famous German chocolate brownies and lost track of time. You know how I get. You weren't answering so I'm guessing you fell asleep. I'll talk to you later, okay? I can't wait to hear all about this trip!
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Received Saturday
11:31 PM
15 minutes after
Hi Carrie,
Are you ready to murder me yet? Given my lack of response in the last few days and the frequency of your emails, I would imagine you are.
I'm alive.
And in Miami, seeking inspiration in the turquoise sea and in the overpriced bottles of red wine this hotel insists on passing off as top shelf. Probably not something I should be admitting to my agent but here we are.
The manuscript is going well. Actually, I should say the manuscript was going well… Until I decided to scrap it and steer it in a completely different direction. Before you stop reading here to pass out or call me twenty five times, please hear me out.
Untitled_Mystery_Doc will still be a mystery at its core, except now the two leads will surrender to a forbidden romance. Detective Prescott must fall fiercely and hopelessly in love with Selene Obispo. It was something the writing was demanding of me all along, but I lacked the inspiration to bring their tension to fruition. That changed thanks to the Celestial's lavish oceanside balcony view.
Earlier tonight, I was leaning over the railing of my balcony, glass of that aforementioned wine in my hand, watching the last remains of a reception of some sort in the distance. A delighted, lilting laugh from a nearby balcony broke my concentration. It was from a young woman who looked to be no older than you are. Even from a distance, I could tell she was a vivacious creature, radiating the type of effortless beauty that would have even the strongest of beings hanging by her every word. In an inky blue dress, she looked so captivating, it was no wonder the man at her side could hardly keep his eyes away from her.
This man, Carrie.
He was, without a doubt, the handsomest specimen I have ever seen. A true Romantic hero come to life from the pages of every classic novel in the catalog. Tall with piercing eyes and a jaw so sharp, it could slice through even the strongest of convictions. He possessed the type of good looks that were striking, like the powerful fissure of lighting.
The pair seemed to alternate between conversation and companionable silence as they enjoyed a drink. Every so often, when he was certain she wasn't looking, he would glance at her almost desperately, as though rushing to take in as much of her before the precious seconds ran out. He was not aware that in those moments when he contemplated the vast ocean before them, she would do the same.
After another lull in their conversation, the young woman looked at her phone, a pensive crease on her brow as she searched for something. Seconds later, the notes of a song began to drift from the speaker of her device. The man scoffed, inspiring more cheerful laughter from her. Despite his annoyed front, his expression softened as he watched her.
More silence and then they started what sounded like a solemn conversation. As they spoke, he looked conflicted, his fingers gripping his glass as though reason and restrain were slowly ebbing away.
Fragments of what they were saying reached me.
“…higher I aspire, the more I stand to lose.”
“I...certainly understand that.”
He stood then, with the conviction of someone seeking to run away from the ineluctable.
When he stopped at the railing of their balcony, however, he turned to her, shoulders deflating as though realizing he didn't want to run anymore. Finding her there at his side was confirmation that she was an inevitability, a constant in his existence like his binary star.
It was confirmation that she was done running too.
He was saying something then, the words coming out in a desperate rush. She didn't seem to mind though, patiently listening and offering reassurance.
“... Your risk paid off.”
Those words seemed to be the denouement of their time together because his gaze took her in with undeniable clarity.
“It did...and I’m beginning to realize…”
The way he looked at her then, with over-spilling yearning, would have inspired poets throughout the ages. Even if I had a hundred years to write, I could never capture the utterly lovelorn way in which he regarded her.
“There are some things that are worth any risk.”
And then he kissed her. Their bodies gravitated closer to one another, reveling in the novelty of having her in his arms at long last. And even though this kiss erupted with the euphoric urgency of the first time, there was familiarity in the way he caressed her, in the way she stroked his jaw. As though they had spent long, agonizing moments before this memorizing one another.
All of this was painted clearly before me in the seconds before I stepped away.
I could not justify stealing any more of this moment from them. Particularly when the desperation in their movements acknowledged the race against the clock. They both knew that this stolen moment would eventually conclude.
I am inspired, Carrie.
Even from afar, I could tell these two yearned for each other. Their kiss was the inevitable culmination of forbidden longing, beautiful yet heartbreaking all at once.
It's exactly what was missing from my manuscript.
Let me know your thoughts.
How's Gigi? Did you like the groomer I recommend?
Sincerely,
Andrea
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Received Saturday
11:32 PM
16 minutes after
To Whom It May Concern;
My name is Lisa Burkett in room 4087. This evening, my husband and I witnessed a couple in a nearby room making out. They were extremely loud and explicit. The woman even climbed on top of the man at some point.
This is appalling since we're here with our children. Luckily they didn't see this happening.
Please put me in contact with a manager. This is unacceptable for a resort that advertises being family friendly.
Attached you will a picture of the incident. That's how exposed and close to us they were.
Sincerely,
Lisa Burkett
Attachment:
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Received Saturday
11:39 PM
23 minutes after
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Sent Saturday
11:41 PM
25 minutes after
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Searched for on Saturday
Googled by Ethan Ramsey
11:56 PM
40 minutes after
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Searched for on Sunday
Googled by Lilac Allende
12:03 AM
47 minutes after
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Searched for on Sunday
Googled by Lilac Allende
12:06 AM
50 minutes after
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Listened to on Sunday
Audible library accessed by Ethan Ramsey
12:46 AM
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Searched on Sunday
Googled by Ethan Ramsey
1:03 AM
From “Student Doctor Network” accessed at 1:11 am
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Received on Sunday
Sibling group chat titled “Y’all look familiar”
Members: Laurel Allende, Lilac Allende, Jaime Allende
1:36 AM
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Received on Sunday
from: Naveen Banerji
to: Ethan Ramsey
1:59 AM
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Posted on Sunday
2:17 AM
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2:46 AM
The Celestial Incident Report
Camera footage transcript
Hall 4000
Written by: Anthony Romero
Re: Guest Complaint
Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, exits his suite, careful to shut the door as noiselessly as possible.
This man has seen better days.
His hair is disheveled and stubble mars the jawline that wreaked havoc among The Celestial's guests and staff alike. The doctor looks downright exhausted, as though he hasn't slept a wink all night. Full disclosure, I'm a measly hotel employee, writing an incident report no one will ever read so I don't know how to put this delicately. But here goes nothing: the man looks as though his lack of sleep is not from the reckless fun Mrs. Burkett complained about but rather the lack of it.
Dr. Ramsey hesitates mid-stride, looking at the door as though it poses a mystifying dilemma. Jaw working, he seems to decide something, jolting forward to take hold of the doorknob.
Reason seems to catch up to him because he exhales noticeably and releases the doorknob as though it scorched his skin. Looking angry but determined, he strides down the hall toward the elevator.
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Posted on Sunday
3:18 AM
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Received on Sunday
3:54 AM
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Accessed via Ethan Ramsey’s camera roll
4:13 AM
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Received on Sunday
7:20 AM
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Failed Login on Sunday
Nurses’ Station desktop | Third Floor
7:53 AM
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Sent on Sunday
from: Bryce Lahela
to: Brittany Ryan
8:01 AM
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Searched on Sunday
Googled by Sienna Trinh
8:01 AM
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Sent on Sunday
from: Sienna Trinh
to: Wayne Bradley Torning
8:19 AM
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Posted on Sunday
8:35 AM
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Received on Sunday
8:51 AM
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Posted on Sunday
9:02 AM
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Sent on Sunday
9:15 AM
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9:32 AM
The Celestial Incident Report
Camera footage transcript
Hall 4000
Written by: Anthony Romero
Re: Guest Complaint
Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, dressed in pool attire, grapples with the key card to his room, the technology somehow perplexing to a man who went to med school. The struggle is short lived because the door swings open from the inside, revealing the second guest on file, Dr. Lilac Allende.
Again, no one reads these anyway so I can confidently say that if I wasn't a goddamn professional, I would've promptly slid into her DMs. She would've rejected me, of course, but you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, am I right?
Dr. Ramsey freezes as his eyes land on her, the muscles of his back tensing. Dr. Allende instinctively does the same, eyes going wide, much like a defenseless bunny facing the snarling snout of a wolf. They stay motionless in stunned silence for so long, I had to check the footage to make sure it hadn't frozen.
After what seems like an eternity, Dr. Ramsey clears his throat and averts his eyes, as though interested in the carpet's God awful pattern. This reaction is definitely the wrong one because Dr. Allende pulls herself to her full height, eyes alight with fire.
Goddamn. My bunny analogy was way off because this girl looks anything but defenseless when she is this pissed.
“I came back to change,” he explains, probably feeling her glare burning into his face.
“We need ice,” she says at the same time, lifting the empty ice bucket she holds.
They definitely don't need any. The ice in her voice and demeanor is enough to stock the poolside bar during spring break.
Dr. Ramsey looks at her then and when their eyes meet, an unspoken conversation passes between them. Slowly, her resolute anger begins to melt. Unmistakable hurt flits through her features and this time, she's the one to look away.
What the hell happened with these two?
Before Dr. Ramsey says anything, she moves around him and strides down the hall with unstoppable determination. He moves to follow her, but with considerable effort he forces himself to stop, watching her disappear instead.
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Sent on Sunday
10:22 AM
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Posted on Sunday
10:51 AM
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Received on Sunday
10:59 AM
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Received on Sunday
11:36 AM
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Sent on Sunday
11:41 AM
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Received on Sunday
11:58 AM
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Sent on Sunday
12:04 PM
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Edenbrook Hospital on Yelp
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Posted on Sunday
1:23 PM
Full transcript of review:
This review is regarding the "care" I received from one Dr. Lilac Allende. Is it normal to almost die at the hands of your doctor? I didn't think so either. Yet here we are. I went in because I had a horrible chest pain that got worse with each day. They assigned Dr. Allende, an intern, to me which was already kind of subpar but it's reduced cost medical care right? I should have trusted my gut because she diagnosed pneumonia and prescribed macrolide antibiotics azithromycin…. which I am allergic to!!! Don't they have charts for this reason?
Or maybe she can't read English given the language barrier. Do they need to start printing patient charts in whatever foreign language she speaks to avoid death?
I don't need to give you the gory details of what happened next, right ?
Anaphylactic Shock. Code blue. Defibrillator. I found out I wasn't the first patient this happened to under her care. There was an almost identical incident on her first day. When I tried to complain to management, they brushed it aside. Word around the hospital is that her boss favorites her. Figures.
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Received on Sunday
1:49 PM
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Sent on Sunday
1:56 PM
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Posted on Sunday
1:57 PM
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Posted on Sunday
1:58 PM
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Drafted on Sunday
status: NOT SENT
1:59 PM
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Posted on Sunday
3:23 PM
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Posted on Sunday
4:03 PM
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Sent on Sunday
4:13 PM
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Sent on Sunday
5:26 PM
from Sienna Trinh
to Wayne Bradley Torning
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Sent on Sunday
5:41 PM
from: Sienna Trinh
to: Danny Cardinal
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Posted on Sunday
6:32 PM
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Posted on Sunday
6:36 PM
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Posted on Sunday
6:45 PM
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Sent on Sunday
6:52 PM
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Received on Sunday
7:10 PM
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7:26 PM
The Celestial Incident Report
Camera footage transcript
Hall 4000
Written by: Anthony Romero
Re: Guest Complaint
Guest, Dr. Ethan Ramsey looks like a tortured man as he paces in front of their door. He runs restless hands through his hair, completely unaware of the effect this has on the majority of the staff reviewing this footage. He pauses in front of the door, pinching the bridge of his nose and raising his gaze upward, as though sending a silent prayer to anyone listening.
Jesus, Buddha, Beyoncé—whoever is up there, help this poor man out.
The door opens, causing him to flinch slightly. In the threshold stands Dr. Allende, wearing one of the hotel's fluffy, white robes. Though she is fully covered, save for her legs, Dr. Ramsey still blushes, as though aware of what lies beneath the fabric.
Dr. Allende, meanwhile, crosses her arms, leaning against the doorway as she studies him. This time, when their eyes scan one another, it's not with the frustration or resentment from the morning.
“Come inside.”
Her voice is quiet.
Dr. Ramsey's jaw clenches.
“Lilac—”
“We can't.” Acceptance ripples through her voice. “I know.”
Dr. Ramsey looks at her with an acute mixture of misery and longing.
“We can't ignore each other forever though.”
“I know. That's not what I want either.”
She nods once in response.
More silence.
“You're not angry anymore?”
The question is unexpected because her gaze snaps up to his.
“I wasn't angry at you, Ethan,” she says after a pensive pause. “I was angry at myself for refusing to let go of what happened. I just want to put it behind me without a backward glance, like you did.”
Those last three words get a reaction out of him. His jaw clenches and strains with effort, his shoulders looking equally as tense. He looks away from her, perhaps afraid that if he continues to look into her beautiful, earnest face, he will contradict her.
The way he had been pacing in front of her door only minutes prior, the way he looked at her this morning, the way his hand gripped the door knob the night before—all of it suggested her assessment as wrong. He was just as trapped in the previous night as she was.
“Lilac, I'm sorry about last night.”
She looks stunned for a brief second. When she recovers, she shakes her head in a tiny movement.
“I'm not.”
He takes in a long breath, allowing hope to filter through his expression.
“Now, come on. We have an early flight and my boss is making me go into work right after we land.”
“Sounds like an asshole.”
“The worst,” she agrees with a hum.
His quiet chuckle and the way he shakes his head is the last thing the camera captures before he follows her inside.
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Posted on Sunday
8:34 PM
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Sent on Sunday
10:01 PM
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Posted on Monday
3:56 AM
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Posted on Monday
4:23 AM
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Posted on Monday
8:03 AM
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Received on Monday
8:16 AM
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Posted on Monday
9:11 AM
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Posted on Monday
9:56 AM
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Received on Monday
9:57 AM
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Received on Monday
10:03 AM
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Status change on Monday
10:21 AM
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Received on Monday
11:33 AM
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Sent on Monday
11:50 AM
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Sent on Monday
12:33 PM
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Sent on Monday
12:40 PM
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Sent on Monday
12:49 PM
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A/N: I really hope you liked this because I poured my whole heart and two brain cells into it! Did you find my little Easter egg?
A few things:
I was going to include the song playing on MC’s phone in the balcony but decided that everyone has a different one. And I love that. Mine is Nirvana by Sam Smith. What’s yours?
That Yelp ordeal happened in real life at my old job. It was the shadiest shit I have ever seen. Even the meanest bitch at work was so shocked that someone would be this much of a snake. Someone printed the “review” about a coworker and posted it everywhere for everyone to see like Regina George. It was awful.
People also wrote computer passwords everywhere and just left them lying around. These computers had highly confidential info but people didn’t give a single fuck.
I picture Ethan picking up the Hamilton book because MC is obsessed with the musical. Plus, he’s a history nerd. But listening to it reminds him of her when he’s trying his damndest to forget about her. LOL good luck bro
I really debated having MC text him a risky picture after the kiss. But then I figured a) this is self-indulgent and b) once he kissed her, all reason and all restraints went out the window.
Thank you to everyone for being so patient while waiting for this! Thank you to @aestheticartsx for finding some of these amazing pics. She is the best!
I love you all.
-Bree
________________________
tags: @openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @trappedinfanfiction, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself, @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphilchoices, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble, @mercury84choices, @drariellevalentine, @ethanrcmsey, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost, @kaavyaethanramsey , @udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @quacksonlover,
@varikasnuori, @dimitriwife, @genevievemd, @shanzay44, @fabi-en-ciel, @trebondialanna, @emotionalswift2, @lady-calypso,
(If I forgot anyone, please DM me!)
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Fools in Love (2/10)
This, and all the stories after it, exist because I saw this post. Damn you @mean-scarlet-deceiver I was using my free time!
Thank You Donna Summer
1977
"I'm telling you, there's something wrong with me!" Bear protested as the workmen slammed his maintenance hatches shut. He'd been feeling unusual for some time - nothing major, but a niggling feeling of something being off. It was driving him nutty, and the men could find nothing wrong.
"Well boy-o," said Clive the foreman. "At this point the only thing we haven't done at this point is take you to pieces - and we aren’t doing that!"
"But it feels weird!"
"Tough. We'll deal with it during your next overhaul." The man said firmly, before following his men out the door of the shed.
"And people call Henry a hypochondriac." Muttered Gordon sleepily.
"He actually had boiler sludge and you know it!" The Hymek snapped as his crankshaft did another flip-flop. "And I'm not saying this just for attention - do you think I like having my hatches pulled every night?"
"Considering how often it's happened this month, I'd say that you must." Gordon sighed as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Bear seethed for the rest of the night, and was still snappish when he was backed down onto The Limited in the morning.
"You are in a dreadful state today. Are you feeling all right?" The lead coach asked as the passengers boarded.
"No, I'm not." Bear scowled, and said no more.
"Right," the coach murmured. Hopefully nothing goes wrong today, or he'll be apoplectic. She thought to herself.
-------
Kellsthorpe Road
Predictably, things went very wrong.
Late passengers, late connections, a cow on the line, and a broken signal arm meant that the train was almost an hour late by the time Bear and his coaches staggered into Kellsthorpe.
To add injury to insult, something was now noticeably wrong with Bear.
In addition to whatever imagined maladies he had, there was a new shooting pain in his gearbox that got worse each time his driver changed up or down.
As they set off from the station, there was a loud CRACK from Bear's gearbox, and an even louder shout of pain from his mouth as the train ground to a halt.
"I told you that there was something wrong!" Bear hissed as his driver slid underneath his front bogie.
He came out moments later, drenched in oil.
"Well, that's torn it!" He groaned as he wiped his hands. "A seal failed and all the oil is gone from your transmission. I'm surprised we made it this far before you disintegrated something."
And that was that. Bear couldn’t move under his own power, so a rescue engine was summoned while the passengers grumbled unhappily about the delay. Bear was also unhappy, but had passed the point of being able to speak without turning the air blue with swears, so he stayed silent.
"As much as I sympathize with them, they should be grateful that they aren't taking a bus!" The lead coach whispered as the signal arm dropped, indicating that the rescue engine was approaching.
Bear hoped it wasn’t James - he'd never hear the end of it if the red engine discovered a perceived weakness.
As the engine puffed into view, Bear's anger and frustration evaporated as he saw that it wasn't James, but instead Henry.
"Am I ever glad to see you!" He called out, eliciting a broad smile from his friend.
"What kind of an engine would I be if I ignored a friend in need?" Henry said as his crew coupled them together.
Bear smiled in return, ignoring the sudden resurgence of his nausea.
---
Talking seemed to help settle his systems - then again, talking with Henry always seemed to help his emotional state; conversation flowed between them with an effortless ease that Bear couldn’t really replicate with anyone else - and the trip to Crovan's Gate was filled with idle conversation about what had gone on since they'd last spoken:
James had once again annoyed a visiting diesel into apoplectic fury with an inane series of questions,
Douglas was still fuming over the officiating that cost Cronk's rugby team their match,
Thomas was still driving everyone on his branch crazy with ABBA - he knew the words, but had no singing ability at all,
And there was a new song that was sweeping the Island's record stores, to the point where a lot of the younger cleaners were bemoaning their long work days, as it meant that they couldn't get to the store before all copies sold out.
"I heard a bit of it in the sheds last week," Henry confided as he rolled tender-first towards Crovan's Gate. I think I'm getting old, because I did not like it at all."
"And yet you look just as dashing as you did on the day I met you."
"One of the perks of being made out of metal I suppose. It's the secret to my eternally good looks."
"But I'm made of metal, so isn't it my secret as well?"
"Gasp. I guess that it will have to be our secret to eternal beauty then."
Bear's smile couldn’t cover the wince that accompanied another unusual feeling from deep within his frame.
"What's wrong?" Henry asked, his voice colored with concern.
"I don't know. I've been feeling unusual for a while now. They've gone through every one of my systems and they can't find anything."
"What does it feel like?"
"It's very strange - my driver says it sounds like indigestion. At some points I get this feeling of, like, like my insides are moving in a way that they shouldn't be, and everything feels light and fluttery... are you all right?"
Henry didn't answer. His concerned expression had suddenly turned into a painful grimace, while steam began pouring out of places it shouldn't be.
For the second time that day, The Limited ground to halt as Henry’s driver stopped the train and dampened his fire.
"I think this train is just cursed," he said as he poked his head in-between Henry’s wheels. "Something has ruptured, but I have no idea what."
Bear closed his eyes in frustration. "If Spamcan shows up as our rescue engine, I..."
He trailed off as Henry laughed.
--
More than an hour later, the train finally limped into Crovan's Gate. A very bemused Class 46 that had been summoned from the mainland was now towing Henry and Bear, neither of whom could stop laughing long enough to explain the joke.
As she shunted them into the Works yard, they finally were able to tell her why they were laughing. The 46 regarded the two with amusement in her eyes. "You two are a pair and a half, you know that?"
"I had an inkling." Henry said, grateful that he'd been laughing too hard to pay any attention to his ruptured steam line before the men dropped his fire. Now that there wasn’t any steam pressure, it hurt a lot less.
Bear, whose gearbox had gone numb, was still chuckling at the absurdity of this 'superb rescue'.
The 46 rolled away as the workmen arrived, and any further conversation was halted as they began pulling tools from cases.
--
That night
"Oh, that's right! I wanted to ask you," Henry said suddenly. "What did those feelings feel like? Indigestion?"
"Yes," Bear said after a moment. "Indigestion, crossed with a broken motor mount. It feels strange, like I'm being filled with helium and lead at the same time."
"This is going to feel incredibly strange, but I feel the same way." Henry said after a moment. "It's like I have an ache in the pit of my boiler, but at the same time I feel energetic - like I'm pulling the express."
"Does it change sometimes?"
"Yes it does. Are you going to tell me that sometimes you feel better and nauseous at the same time?"
"Yes! I feel that way right now as a matter of fact."
"As do I. " Henry paused to acknowledge the incredulous situation they were in. "What a pair we are - Miss Spamcan was right! We break down on the same day, and we have the same phantom illnesses."
"And we're both green."
"And we're both green! How could I forget that? If you squint hard enough, we're essentially the same engine."
"Will you two shut up!" Came a cry from across the works. Several of the workmen were clustered around a radio. "We're trying to listen!"
Turning back to the radio, the man turned up the volume knob, allowing a thumping bass line to fill the works.
"I think this is that song I was talking about earlier." Henry whispered to Bear.
Ooh it's so good, it's so good
It's so good, it's so good
It's so good
Ooh I'm in love, I'm in love
I'm in love, I'm in love
I'm in love...
--
The song was very long - apparently it was some kind of "extended club mix", and the workers were very enthusiastic about it.
Henry and Bear... were not.
"Honestly, I'm quite nonplussed." Bear remarked after spending a few moments searching for the right words. "It's just the same words over and over again."
"It's for dancing mate!" Said one of the men as he swept up. "You're supposed to feel the beat and get moving!"
"I can't dance." Bear looked down at the rails. And I can only really move forward and backwards."
"Maybe you could spin around on the turntable, and that would count." Henry chimed in.
"I think I'd just get sick."
"Perhaps."
"I cannot believe you two!" Cried a young cleaner. "That was an amazing song! How can you not like it?"
"It's repetitive and goes nowhere." Henry said. "It's repeating the same words over and over again. I understand that she 'feels love', but she never said what she was feeling. What does love feel like?"
That brought the entire works to a stop. The men looked from each other nervously. Henry was puzzled. "What did I say?"
"Nothing!" Said one of the men quickly. "It's just... uhh... oh would you lookatthetimegoodbye!"
He fled into the staff break room, followed by several of his co-workers.
Henry and Bear watched with bafflement as the shed emptied at lightning speed. Soon, only two cleaners were left - Karl, the senior cleaner who had been on Sodor since the 1940's, and a young man whom neither engine knew.
"Children, the lot of 'em." Karl groused as he cleared up a patch of spilled oil. "It's like they've never been asked a difficult question."
"What was the question?" Henry, Bear, and the young cleaner asked together.
"Seriously?" Karl looked up from the oil slick. "None of ye know what 'e said?"
"No."
"Nope."
"I have no idea."
Karl groaned as ge held his head in his hands. "Love, you great ignoramus! You asked about what love felt like!"
"So?" None of Henry’s confusion was lifted.
"You're an engine!" Karl said after a moment of shocked, silent, gesticulation. "Engines don't ask what that means!"
"Why not?" This came from the young cleaner, who cocked his head in confusion.
"I- I- you- it's just..." Karl trailed off, his boisterous shock deflating into a curious silence. "I don't know. Now that I think about it, I don't think it's ever happened before."
"Well it's happened now." Said Bear, now genuinely curious about the answer to the question. "What does love feel like?"
Karl looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He turned to the young cleaner for help, and got none.
"Don't look at me. I'm still single. You're the one who married his childhood sweetheart."
Karl glowered for a moment before pulling himself together. "Fine. You lads want to know what love is? It's like a sickness. And you enjoy it. Just thinking about whoever you're smitten on and your pulse races, breath quickens, and you feel like you're going to vomit. Every time I saw my Maria before I told her how I felt, I wanted to run and hide, but never wanted to be more than more than a foot from her. She made me feel like shouting from the rooftops that I loved her, and I was fookin' terrified that she'd find out. It was awful!"
"What did you end up doing?" The young cleaner asked.
"I told 'er! It helped that I'd known her for years, but I just sacked up and told her how I felt." He paused, fiddling with his wedding ring as he did so. "And she said she loved me too. And then I threw up on her shoes."
He smirked slightly. "I was not smooth. But she still said yes! And that's all that matters."
Henry raised an eyebrow. "So you feel sick and that's love? That's what that song was about?"
"No! It's enjoyable! I wouldn't trade how I felt for all the gold in the world, and neither would Maria. We've been married for 38 years, and I still love her with all the strength in my body. I'd do anything for her."
He glanced over at the now-quiet radio. "That song is about how it feels to be in love, from a youngster's view - your emotions run hot, and you can't imagine anything but the object of your affections."
He turned to the young cleaner, caught up in the passion of his speech. "And you would do well to remember that it won't always feel like that, laddie! At some point, those emotions will calm back down, and you'll be left with a quiet set of feelings. And if you're stupid, ye might think that it's over, but it isn't! That just means that you've pulled the iron out of the fire, and it's cooled into a strong, solid love that will last the ages. You follow that advice and you'll stay a happy man!"
Henry and Bear watched in surprise. They'd both known Karl for years, and had never seen him this openly emotive before.
Karl blinked as he calmed down. "Well, I wasn't expecting that to come out, but yeah, that's what love feels like."
Glancing at the clock, his eyebrows raised into his graying hair. "Cripes, it's past quitting time. I've got to be home in time for dinner!"
He quickly packed up his cleaning supplies and dragged the young cleaner into the break room. In just a few short minutes, the works were empty save for Henry and Bear.
"Humans are strange." Bear said finally.
"That statement assumes that we are normal."
"What makes you think that we're not?"
"Fair point."
"Bear."
-
As the night wore on, easy conversation slowly turned into sleepy conversation, then yawning, before the two engines decided to turn in for the night.
About 15 minutes passed before Bear's eyes snapped open. The penny had just dropped, and it felt like the farthing wasn’t too far behind.
"Henry?"
"Yes?" Henry evidently wasn't asleep either.
"Do you remember how we acted in 1971?"
"Why yes, I do. I also remember how we acted in 1969, 1972, 1973, 1974, 1975, and 1976." Henry’s voice sounded calm, which meant that he was probably on the verge of screaming.
"Interesting." Then again, Bear wasn’t too far behind him on 'nearly screaming' front. "Do you also remember that the indigestion that we both seem to be suffering from -"
"Increases whenever I see or talk or think about you? Yes."
"Henry, are we feeling love? Right now?"
"Yes. I believe we are."
"Good. What do we do now?"
"I have no idea."
"Neither do I."
"Fuck."
#ttte#sodor#fic#fools in love#sodor shenangians#ttte henry#ttte bear#these idiots have been in love for almost a decade and they figure it out now#ttte gordon#donna summer
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blue side next door (m);
genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; friends to lover!au; neighbors!au;
pairing: reader x hoseok;
length: 24.1k;
synopsis: between the windows of two souls, one with a perpetually lone heart and another with the scar of an unfaithful partner, the blue side overlooking the roof of their neighborhood best friend is a solace that has stood against the test of time. they were there to lend the other a shoulder to cry on, to spend the entirety of dawn whispering the night away, and to treat them in a way they deserved, a way no one else was capable of; because for the two childhood friends blinded by the thin line between friends and lovers, the soulmate they’ve both been searching for far and wide has always been right next door all along.
As with any college student, Winter and Summer breaks are your favorite times of the year. Your reasons for taking a particular liking to these seemingly long-waiting, fast-passing breaks from the constant hustle of studies, however, most certainly strayed from those of your classmates; because when the constant chatter of your house settles into the background crickets and your digital alarm rings at the stroke of midnight, your hand smacks the clock off a tad harder than necessary and your legs kick against the wooden floor to send you and your chair swiveling toward the window by your desk—because, there, you would lock eyes with an equally ecstatic boy through the windows of a bedroom across from yours.
The bite of the winter chill blasts through the slightly cracked windows and sends shivers down your back as you work to clear the obstacle between your muffled voice and his—
“—Merry Christmas!”
The endless streams of white puffs are enough to fill the gap between his windows and yours.
“It’s not even Christmas yet, dumby,” your neighbor’s laughs are like a familiar tune to confirm your arrival home. Unbeknownst to you, the smile on the dreamy haze of your state remains even as he continues his tease, “I see you’re as on time as always.”
With your favorite golden yellow, oversized tee of his draped over his broad stature, you let out a breath of relief over the spark in the air that has remained resilient yet ever the more bold throughout the years. Enraptured by the luminescence of his honey-like skin that glows under the beam of the moonlight and the way the apples of his cheeks raises at the sight of his best friend, you begin to play connect the dots between the stars of the galaxy and those of his eyes, pearly whites, and golden tee. The penmanship of his breath evaporates into the beautifully painted sapphire night sky bedazzled by the stars before you—and that’s when you know, finally, you are home.
“I could say the same for you,” you muse, although you’ll never confess having set up an alarm the second you had returned home a week before his break had even started. “See, I’ve been telling you all this time! I can always tell whenever you’re near. It has to be a sixth sense that only best friends have for each other.”
The boy raises a brow and prims a crooked grin as he leans into his hand with an elbow perched to the sill, “you really think I can’t hear your alarm every night from just several feet across?”
“You—” your lips fall agape and your cheeks turn beet red in the wake of the winter winds “—you knew about it all this time?!”
“Of course,” he cackles and shrugs as if it’s an elementary principle of common sense, “for someone who always forgot to turn in her homework in middle school and high school? To remember to talk to a boy? Not to mention me? As if.”
“Hey… I remember to turn in my stuff now… occasionally,” you frown, “but who are you to talk? Last time I recalled, I had to wake you up from oversleeping on finals week!”
“Oh, touché,” his lips form a wide, goofy grin and his gaze leaves yours for the sky, as if trying to scavenge through the remnants of his memories. A brief silence filters the air before the both of you cover your mouths in a fruitless attempt to muffle your cackles. Perhaps there’s something about the winter chills, cold to the bone and homage to the holiday spirit, but there’s something about this very spot—next to your window sill unbeknownst to the daze of both households and your childhood friend laughing along with you from right across, concealed by the secrecy of night—that always has your blood has spiked with vigor and the irrational belief that you and him could conquer any and every fear. “So, how’s life without your neighborhood best friend?”
“Psh, ‘best friend.’ To be honest, not too bad,” you snort at the pressed grin he forces onto his face before sighing and shooting him a wink, “could be a lot better, though.”
The to-be-receiver of your affectionate symbol raises his hand to flick the signal away and off into the abyss that is the concrete floor two stories beneath. “I would like to feign surprise but I’d like to think you’d be able to see through it by now. Do you at least have any suitors this time around?”
“Why? Are you trying to subtly flex winning our bet for the third time in a row now?” you take a deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh, plopping onto your arms on the sill. This must have been the third year since starting college that you’ve failed to find a plus-one for Christmas. “Or are you trying to make me feel even lonelier on ‘tis cuffing season?”
Hoseok gapes in response to your accusations, raising his hands to the air. “Hey, I only proposed that bet because I didn’t want to leave you alone on Christmas. In fact, you should be grateful for having such a great best friend!”
“Yeah, yeah,” you smile to yourself because he’s right, “well, I guess you’re gonna have to treat me to dinner again.”
“Actually,” whatever he’s about to say brings a sweet smile to his lips and you can practically hear the honey of his voice, “I cleared up my schedule for this break and was planning to take you out for movie regard—”
—buzz.
A brief silence befalls the both of your lips as your eyes dart between Hoseok’s curious ones from across and your phone that vibrates one time, two times on the white tabletop beside you. From your peripheral view, you vaguely catch a series of text messages popping onto your screen before narrowing your eyes at your best friend.
“Why are you texting me when we’re literally talking right here?”
“What?” he frowns with a smile of disbelief. “When have I ever taken my eyes off you this entire time?”
“Well,” you pause to affirm his argument, “who else would be texting me at midnight?”
Your best friend takes a long second to ponder before sincerely answering with the straightest face possible, “...spam?”
“Thanks,” you snort, rolling your eyes as you reach for the phone, “I’m not sure if I should be offended or not—”
—a gust of escaping air collapses your lungs.
“What? Who is it?” you can hear your best friend peeking his head out through the window, almost as if he could squint his way through the walls between you and him. “Who texted you? Is it spam? I was right, wasn’t I? Y/NNNN—”
“—Jin texted me.”
The confession stuns those befallen to the abrupt news, including you; and the next thing you know, Hoseok’s widened eyes are shooting darts at you for more information.
“Jin?” he articulates. “You mean Kim Seokjin from high school?”
Your eyes blink blankly, still staring at the screen, “yeah.”
“The one you’ve been crushing on since forever?”
Throwing a glare at your best friend’s lack of hesitation over tossing your deepest and darkest secrets out into the night air for everyone to hear, you mumble, “...yeah. That Seokjin.”
“Oh, well,” Hoseok plops back into his armchair, recollecting himself, “what did he say?”
Heart racing, blood pumping, and stomach fluttering, you fail to notice your grin that stretches from ear to ear. With each passing second, the surreality of the sight before you becomes all the harder to believe, because who would have thought your second ever crush in your life and your first crush in high school would be texting you out of the blue?
Jin😍 [12:45 A.M.] hey! it’s been a while!
Jin😍 [12:45 A.M.] how have you been?
Jin😍 [12:46 A.M.] if you’ve started break already, i hope it’s been going well. and if not, good luck on finals. i’m actually home for the break and wanted to grab dinner with you some time and catch up? we could watch a movie, too.
“He…” you manage to stammer as Hoseok quirks a brow, “he…”
A lightbulb flashes when your best friend grabs something on his desk to fiddle with for the next ten seconds—a motion you’ve grown to recognize all too well—and the next thing you know, a paper airplane comes flying your way.
Clasping the plane in both hands, you unfold the paper only to cackle at the bold red B- slathered across one side opposite of the blank. Another pair of eyes, on the other hand, shoots daggers at the snickering you’ve invested little to no effort in concealing. For better or for worse, nothing seems to have changed between you and Hoseok, and that fact becomes all the more evident as you held the paper airplane in your hands; because even now, you can still reminisce over the fateful night when the nine year old boy had suggested to the sheepish nine year old girl to write whatever thoughts she struggled to voice onto a paper airplane she could send flying over to his newly moved-into-bedroom. Unbeknownst to the boy, the bashful demeanor only stemmed from the silly adolescent crush you held for the boy since his first introduction to your family and it’s a secret you’ll keep stubbornly buried for years, even as you’ve outgrown both the mien and crush of your childhood days. One thing that you two have never outgrown, however, is the use of paper airplanes. Whether it’s for old time’s sake or for its actual purpose, you’ve never paid mind to.
For you, it’s been a relief to have a stable, constant friendship you could rely on, regardless of the circumstances. Hoseok has been your pillar, your sole source of solace even in your darkest times and there was nothing you could have traded this relationship for.
The next minute flows as if it were all second nature to you: grabbing a pen, you shut your eyes and hurriedly, albeit abashedly, scribble the words you had struggled to voice before and sent the airplane flying into the blue side.
Receiving your message, your best friend seems taken aback for a moment, both brows raising for the briefest of moments before settling into a thick coating of unsurprise, almost as if he had seen this coming from miles away. His expression paints a million words and, as always, you excitedly await for the vocalization of the myriad of reactions that had just plastered on his face; but today, he simply manages to utter a simple, “oh.”
“‘Oh?’ Are you kidding me, Hoseok?” you gape before falling into a fit of giggles. “This crush that I’ve been gushing over to you about for the. entirety. of. high. school. has finally acknowledged my existence? And not to mention, asked me out on a date? This is the moment we’ve both been waiting for!”
“I know, I’m happy for you,” Hoseok nods, the corner of his lips lifting into the gentlest of smiles. Cocking his head and kicking his feet onto the desk hidden behind the wall beside him, he rests his head onto the window sill, “so, what are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do? I’m finally going to be cuffed for the holiday season!” you don’t realize you’ve been twirling around your bedroom until you catch yourself taking a deep breath after a shortage of air. Finally, you plop into your chair, swivel toward the window in one swift motion, and breathe out a puff of white into the blue with a smile still stuck in a reverie. “I guess I’ll be the one treating you to dinner this year, buddy.” Hoseok prims his lips even tighter than before, hesitating to nod his head in agreement when you frown at his reaction. With a knitted expression, your voice settles into one of concerns, “do you have plans for Christmas…?”
“...no,” his answer comes with a stagnant silence of pondrance and his eyes fall to the sill before him. “Probably not. Actually, no. I won’t be.”
“Hold up, no, that doesn’t seem like a no to me,” you shake your head, leaning forward as he reclines into his seat and inches away into his room. “Do you have a date? It’s not with… her, is it?” Something drops in your already knotted stomach when he merely turns his head to the side and away from you. “After all the times she’s—” you hesitate to proceed but how else are you supposed to wake him up? “—cheated on you, why do you keep going back to her? I know you’re the sweetest, most understanding person, but why do you forgive her after all the pain she’s put you under? You deserve better, Hoseok. I know you do.”
Darkness befalls his face inch by inch akin to the inked clouds that shrouds the stars of the sky above you, for the once welcoming windows of his soul shun you from the outside-in. It’s been a while since you’ve observed such anguish overtake the cheery sun that was your best friend. The only moments of relapse were in the times of Hoseok’s on-and-off relationship with his ex—a fact that sends your chest throbbing and your guts twisting, for the hidden tears of your best friend shed at midnight in the comforts of the window sill beside yours pains you so.
This time, however, the boy shies away from his usual spilling of the heart. What had incurred such change, you were left to wonder alone; because regardless of if you were to peer through the familiar panes of the window or if you were to grab the handles and force your way in, your neighborhood childhood best friend had left you living and breathing in the cold cold in anticipation for someone who would never return.
“It’s different this time,” he lowly states and you can barely hear him over the wind that tousles his locks and yours. His words fail you, for the boy proceeds to stand to his feet and reach for the handles of his windows sitting in the night’s wrath all while you stare at him aghast. “Alright, it’s getting late now—” liar, you two have always talked late into the night, sometimes even ‘til daylight “—I’m heading off to bed. You should, too.”
“Hoseok,” you begin your last plea in desperation, peering up at the boy who meets your gaze with soulless orbs, “promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Please, at least for me.”
The boy presses his lips into a soft upturn of affirmation, if only to please his best friend. “I will. I promise. And you,” he points a stern finger at you with a chuckle, “be careful around that boy. I swear I’ll rip him to shreds if he ever even thinks about hurting you.”
“You wouldn’t,” you snort, despite the fact that his threats has your insides melting.
“I sure would,” he firmly retorts.
“You might punch him but I don’t think you have the heart to ‘rip them to shreds.’”
“I would if it were for you,” Hoseok finally cracks a smile when he watches the snicker creep onto your lips as you rolled your eyes because you knew very well in your heart that Hoseok would indeed be the last one standing beside your side, even if the whole world were to doubt you. As a final farewell of the dawn, the boy kicks the chair to the side and shoots you one last, firm look. “And make sure you tell him that.”
“Okay, okay,” you laugh, shifting to lean your left cheek into your arms on the sill. The golden warmth of the crescent moonlight strikes the apples of his honey tan cheeks so as to illuminate every perfect imperfection you’ve come to adore through the years. Still stuck in a daydream, you smile, “goodnight, Hoseok.”
Your best friend returns the gesture with a pressed upturn of the lips. “Goodnight,” he utters, before shutting his windows and blinds.
One, two, three—you giggle to yourself when he peeks through curtains just to give you one last wave, as if on cue to your whispers—and finally, he’s gone.
Normally, you would return to your bed to scroll through your phone and occasionally send one last text to your best friend with whatever mischief you could muster; but tonight, something about the electricity of the cold-cutting air, the spirit of the holidays, and flutters of having been asked out by your crush of many years has you staring out your window for many more hours to come.
Because tonight, the blue side soaring over the silhouette of your neighborhood best friend’s bedroom ceiling shines to a deep, melancholic fanfare no one has ever quite seen before.
-
“Hey, have you been waiting for long?”
A voice that you have to scavenge through your memories to identify calls out to you through the breeze that reddens your already beet-red cheeks and frozen tip of the nose. Jittering in place to keep yourself warm, you begin to regret having dressed so poorly for the weather. Black stockings, boots, and a wool jacket were, in fact, not enough to compensate for an above-the-knee skirt. If beauty is pain, then you were the manifestations of the downsides to dating. Still, you’ve always wanted to dress to impress, regardless of who you were meeting; because, in moments like this, you realize just how much you’ve taken Hoseok’s offering of his jacket and scarves for granted.
Tonight, however, you politely shake your head and force a smile, despite your chattering teeth and frosting breath. “No, I just got here—” maybe only five minutes ago, but still, Hoseok would have made sure to have been five minutes earlier “—the theater is just down the street from where I live.”
“Oh, is that so?” Jin gasps. “I could have picked you up, then. Next time for sure, yeah?”
“Yeah,” your attempt to hide your smile is in vain, for you can’t help but internally scream at the confirmation of a next date, “next time for sure.”
The jitters that send your bloodstream on a high skyrockets when Jin skillfully swipes an arm around and over your shoulder, the heat of his firm arms sending chills down your otherwise freezing back as he guides you toward the theater and quirks his head to the side to peer down at you with a lopsided smile, “so, how have you been, Y/N?”
If it weren’t for the knot in your throat, you would have been squealing at the top of your lungs, for the sole connection between your gaze and his own sultry ones sent an amass of butterflies fluttering in your stomach; and it’s at this moment that you wonder to yourself: so this must be how it feels to date during Christmas… and even if it twists your chest and sinks your spirits, you have to wonder: is this also how Hoseok feels when he meets with his ex?
The endless stream of foolish questions persists to interfere throughout the date, because by the end of the movie, you don’t even realize the missing extra large size of popcorn and drinks that Hoseok would have most definitely prepared for the both of you. It must have been your fault, though, because you can’t even recall having denied an offer for snacks prior to the movie. Did Jin even offer? Did you offer? Or were you two busy catching up that you had forgotten? Maybe Jin wasn’t much of a snacker. Regardless, your first date at the movies tonight seems to be much more revealing of your incompetence and Hoseok’s compensating competence than you would have liked to acknowledge.
“Are you…” Jin chortles in disbelief as the two of you weave through the bustling crowd next to the theater’s exit. “...are you really crying?”
“What do you mean am I actually crying?” you sniffle, forgetting to wipe the waterworks that stain your cheeks. “The movie was so freaking sad. I’m not usually a crier, but don’t you think it was at least a little sad?”
“No, not really,” he furrows his brows and awkwardly laughs at your mess. “You need some tissues to… wipe… your tears?”
Oh shit, your eyes shoot wide open when you realize just how much of a mess you must have appeared. This had never been a concern of yours before, but you were on a date right now, for God’s sake! In front of the Kim Seokjin, not to mention. How could you ruin your first date with the boy you’ve been wanting to kiss since forever? Would he even want to kiss you with snot running down your nose? Would there even be a second date at this point?!
Quickly accepting his offering of a tissue, you sheepishly turn away to blow your nose and collect yourself. You can hear Jin laughing briefly to himself from behind but your cheeks continue to burn bright red as you become all the more self conscious by the second. A state of panic settles in your frenzied heart when, out of the blue, you hear a familiar name escape Jin’s lips.
“Oh, if it isn’t Jung Hoseok!”
“Hoseok…?” you mumble to yourself, whirling around with a frown only to find yourself gutted at the sight of your best friend.
“Y/N,” Hoseok’s nod of the head comes to an abrupt stop and his eyes are struck with a mix of both terror and fury when he notices your own bloodshot eyes. His death glare flickers to the boy beside you. Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “I’ll give you two choices. Either you fucking run and never see her again or I beat your fucking—”
“—whoa, whoa,” Jin raises his hands in mercy, “she’s crying because of the movie, bro. Calm down, are you her boyfriend or am I?”
It’s odd that an unsettling premonition sends you churning, despite the fact that he had just proclaimed himself as your boyfriend. What exactly is it about this moment that startles you so? Hoseok’s presence? His mistake? Or is there something about Jin’s reaction that fails to satisfy?
But the more you ponder, the more you come to realize the question that had your chest gnawing and your heart pounding anxiously at the edge of its seat all this time.
“Wait, Hoseok, why are you here…?” you barely murmur as the two of them pause their stare-down to turn toward you. “Are you here for her—”
“—you two know each other?” Jin interrupts, quirking a brow when you simply nod. “From where?”
“We’re neighbors,” Hoseok replies before you can utter a word. You could tell Jin was about to raise a question of concern in regards to your relationship by the moment of hesitation and Hoseok’s abrupt response. Your best friend points his thumb back over his shoulder where a girl’s restroom sign hovers behind. “My date’s in the restroom right now, so I’m just waiting for her.”
“Oh,” you can nearly hear Jin sigh a breath of relief, “okay, well, we gotta get going, right, Y/N?”
“Huh?” you glance between Jin, who smiles gently at you with those perfectly perk lips of his, and Hoseok, who has you agonizing for your best friend’s well-being despite his current beckoning for you to continue on your little date without a trace of worry. “Wait, but Hoseok—”
“—yeah, don’t worry about me,” Hoseok chortles, shining a bright grin at the two of you and taking a step backward toward the direction of whom you assumed to be his repulsive ex. “I’ll catch up with you later, Jin! See you at home, Y/N.”
“...right,” Jin can only mutter under his breath, for the boy had already jogged off into the distance. Squeezing your hand, Jin’s sudden touch against your bare skin has your heart skipping a beat above your previously unsettling state of mind. “Let’s go and have some fun, Y/N. I’ll walk you home, too.”
The thought of skipping through town and whisking the night away with the apple of your eye has your grin stretching from ear to ear and your extremities buzzing with electricity; but even so, as Jin holds your hand firmly in his like a prized treasure you had always wished to be, you can’t help but glance over your back at the boy who had left your heart heavy and crestfallen for many impending sleepless nights all in the surging waves of his wake.
-
Tonight’s sky radiates sapphire, too, albeit more sober and less star-studded, a stark contrast to the one next door. Nonetheless, as you stroll through the neighborhood hand-in-hand with the boy of your dreams and rest your head against his sturdy arms to gaze up into midnight, you’re transcended into the soft wraps of your blanket where your cheeks would ache and your heart would warm as you peered out of your bedroom windows throughout the ephemeral dreamy exchange.
“Do you have a thing for astronomy?” Jin implores, the break of the silence and the squeeze of his hands snap you back into reality. The lock between his hands and yours allows you to feel every callus and rough inch of his skin and you begin to wonder if he could feel your heart pacing with each passing second that he held you so intimately like this.
Clearing the knot in your throat with a gulp, you manage to meekly utter, “not in particular,” before returning your sights to peer up at the boy with a grin. When his eyes meet yours, however, the sudden contact has you jolting from a spike of joyous thrill—because, for heaven’s sake, the crush you’ve been gushing over for years was looking into your eyes!
“Whoa, is my face really that frightening?” Jin chuckles with another squeeze to your hand. “Hey, I don’t know if it was just me, but I really thought there was a connection between us tonight. You can be comfortable, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”
To this day, there was really only one place of solace of whom you could spill your heart to and that was by the side of your window; so when your frenzied mind finally manages to register his last words of affirmation, your heart holds onto the hope of a newfound home. Bobbing your head with elation, your sights lower to the floor bashfully in a fruitless attempt to hide your cheeky smile, for the laugh of his that follows is enough to confirm the similar wavelength of giddiness between you both.
After a minute of walking with interlocked hands and basking in utter bliss, this time it’s your turn to break the silence, “....and we have arrived!”
“What?” Jin groans, grabbing both your hands when you turn to face him in preparation for your parting. “Why do you have to live so close?”
You giggle at his perspective, “well, think about it this way: the closer I live, the more often you can visit me.”
“Can I visit you now, then?” his lips upturn into a suggestive quirk of the grin—his eyes, however, were focused elsewhere, for when you follow his line of sight and find yourself staring at the flamboyant red strap of your bra peeking out from under your black blouse, your cheeks turn an equally beet red.
Did you just flash your boyfriend on the very first date?
“Absolutely not!” you gawk, pulling on your sleeves and crossing your hands protectively over your chest. “We are not that comfortable yet!”
“Yet, I’m glad to hear that,” he emphasizes, turning away to glance at your house. The two of you exchange a brief moment of laughter when you sheepishly slap his arm for his antics when silence overcomes the conversation and his inscrutable eyes darken with their sights pinned on the two houses before him. “Does he come over often?”
“Who?” you arch a brow just as a lightbulb goes off in your mind. Eyes wandering away from your boyfriend and settling on the bedroom windows of your best friend’s, your heart stirs and your gut contorts by the wrath of today’s flashbacks. If your heart hurts you so, to the point that you’re doubting time’s capabilities as remedy, your spirits sink even lower when you consider: how must Hoseok be feeling? “Oh, Hoseok?”
Jin only nods, keeping his eyes on the two windows facing one another within an arm’s distance across. Glancing between your window and Hoseok’s, you notice the oddity of your heart’s skips at the sight of golden warmth radiating from his drawn curtains. He must be awake. Is he waiting for you? What is he doing? How is he feeling?
Even from this distance away, you could practically see the warmth of his room and feel the heat thaw those ice cold hands of yours. Your chest throbs at the thought of another night’s exchange with Hoseok but your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by the barely audible breaths of the actual boy beside you.
What has your heart racing and your blood flooding with this euphoric thrill? Perhaps it’s the excitement to babble to Hoseok about how perfectly well the date and the anticipation that had built up over the entirety of the day, you figured; but was it right to feel this way? Is it normal to feel this way over the mere lights of his room?
“No,” you finally answer cautiously, wary of Jin’s sudden change in demeanor. “We’re family friends but he doesn’t come over often.”
For some reason, you decide to keep the nightly conversations a secret, even if it meant nothing more than a nostalgic exchange between two best friends. Jin’s unwavering stare between your window and Hoseok’s, however, has you plagued with a guilt that would startle your sleep for many nights to come.
“Does he ever see you like that?” he lowly speaks with a tinge of growl in his voice.
“Like what…?” your voice trails as your mind scrambles to find his reference—oh, your cheeks redden once again at the thought of your undergarments. Has Hoseok ever seen your undergarments? The thought had never occurred to you until now, and as much as you thought you wouldn’t care if he indeed has, the frenzy that settles in your heart tells you otherwise. He’s your best friend though, a childhood friend, so does it really matter if he did? “No, I don’t think so… That would only be possible if I had forgotten to close my curtains while changing, but… I don’t think Hoseok would be the type to… look. He probably would scold me afterwards, too—”
“—but would he? Would he really not look?” Jin cuts, turning toward you to reveal the stern look of his knitted expression. “I don’t know how close you two are, but guys are all the same, Y/N. You should be careful.”
Something about his orders, the deadpan of his voice and the demand of his eyes, send an unfamiliar series of chills down your spine. The boy that stands before you is a stark contrast from the ex baseball player, high school graduate you had just spent the entirety of the night gushing over with your every being wrapped around his finger.
The stagnant, stiff silence that ensues catches the both of you off guard, for neither of you were prepared for the vexed look on your face over the antagonization of your best friend. To reconcile, Jin lets out a sigh intermixed with a soft laugh and pats the side of your arm. The edges of his eyes soften as his thumb rubs circles into your skin and his lips prim into a slight smile. The gentle, more familiar intonation of his voice return when he speaks, “just be a bit more careful, okay? For me?”
He must have been concerned for your safety. Perhaps jealous of your friendly relations with Hoseok, you figured, as many friends have questioned your true relationship with your best friend that happens to be a male. Plus, you and Jin were dating now. As your boyfriend, he had all the more reasons to be concerned.
As much as it irks you to witness anyone villainizing Hoseok, you couldn’t exactly blame Jin, could you...?
“Jin, I’ll be fine. Hoseok wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but thank you for worrying,” you quickly stand on the tip of your toes to plant a firm kiss to his cheeks, stunning him with those wide eyes of his before he could persist. “I’ll be careful just for you, though, okay?”
Your boyfriend nods, his cheeks just barely a tint of pink—whether from the cold or your touch, you would like to think the latter—and the two of you part after a lengthy exchange of beckoning for the other two leave first and a drawn out bidding of repetitive farewells. As cold as Jin had made the last few minutes of the date, he had compensated much more than enough with the swarm of butterflies that filled your insides at the moment as you skipped your way up the stairs and into your room.
The golden hues of light that floods your room only augments to the warmth of your state as you hum to yourself and proceed to discard your clothes in exchange for far more comfortable pajamas. There goes the stockings, the skirt, the sweater, you toss them onto your bed as you search for the bunny pajamas you had worn for the past week or two when, out of the blue, a sliding of the curtains interrupt your tunes and the golden warmth of your room disappears to leave you in the dark. Your heart nearly stops when you come to realize what had just occurred.
Slowly turning, you peer over the side of your bed half naked only to find his curtains closed and the lights of his bedroom replaced by the beam of moonlight which streams into your own opened curtains. Shit, did you just break your promise to Jin within minutes of making it? Heart racing and blood flowing to heat every inch of your body, you start to squirm uncontrollably at the thoughts that plague you for the next hour to come.
Did Hoseok see you in just your bras and panties? Did he see everything? How much did he see? When did he see? How long did he watch?
Throwing on your pajamas, you hastily close your curtains and bury yourself into your bed only to scream into your pillows at the top of your lungs. Well, at the very least, Hoseok was as much of a gentleman as you had predicted to Jin. There was no way he would have peaked for a second longer than he should have when he realized your curtains were mistakenly drawn open, or at least that’s what you would like to think in order to sleep at night.
Regardless, the most pressing concern you have to face at the moment has you in shambles as the clock nearly strikes midnight: how were you going to face him after that?
The answer would have been simple—you wouldn’t—but when you peek over at your curtains from under the blankets and you run over the events of today, you’re gutted by the reminder of Hoseok’s feigned smile last night and the forced assurance he had given you before you left him for Jin at the theater tonight.
As much as you’re reluctant to count, you’ve been through this scene more than enough times before. Hoseok’s on-and-off relationship with his ex were never without its complications. Ghosting, cheating, stood up, the inflictions his ex had afflicted on Hoseok were endless. It pained you every time you return home, hoping Hoseok had not just undergone another heartbreak. Hoseok has always been too patient, too forgiving. He never really learned and you despise him for it so. Judging by the red flags of last night, if your daunting predictions were correct, your problems were much less of one than what he must be going through.
You weren’t given much time to contemplate over your choices, though, for your best friend seems to have beaten you to it when a series of knocks at your window allures you back into reality where your duties lie ahead and across from your bedroom window.
Firmly planting your feet to the ground, you stride toward your window sill, drawing open the curtains and pushing apart the panes—whoosh. A paper airplane comes flying toward your face just as you welcome the blue side guest of the winter night sky into your room, just barely dodging it as it whirls to the floor.
how was the date?
Bending over, you grab the surprisingly blank piece of paper off the floor. Rolling your eyes at his antics, you twirl around to face your window with a mass of emotions scrambled in the mess that is your state of mind only to be stunned into silence by the sight before you; because just as reliably he had stayed by your side through all your ups and downs in every milestone, days, months, and years, he sits there by his window, leaning his cheeks into his hands with an elbow propped against the sill, waiting for you to spill your heart over another day’s work of hassles, delights, or disappointments—silently, resiliently, perpetually.
It’s ironic that in moments like this, when you’re staring at the very person whom has incessantly proven their faith time and time again, that you come to acknowledge your greatest fear.
What were you to do if the day were to arrive when you peer out of your windows and meet an empty room of closed curtains and lackluster midnight skies?
“So?” Hoseok quirks his head to the side with a smile that raises the apples of his cheeks; and while the sight of the cheery boy before you would have usually lifted you from the lowest of lows, this side of him hits you different tonight—for tonight he is blue, feigning to be golden, neither sapphire like the bejeweled galaxy nor ocean like the tenacious waves that were to rise from its inevitable crashes.
Tonight, he dutifully plays the role of the usual jolly best friend. Tonight, Hoseok pretends to be okay when he’s not for the sake of you, and as much as you knew he was well aware of the fact that you could see right through him, his helpless attempt to convince the both of you otherwise tugs at your strings. You could always tell the weather of his side, sometimes even better than he was even aware of. You are his best friend, his childhood friend, his one constant source of consolidation. Hoseok knew you could unmask that forced upturn of his lips—you always could—so to see him there, sitting across from you with that bittersweet, crooked lips of his, it’s almost as if he had no choice but to lie.
“Why…” your lips quiver and your voice cracks when his smile disappears along with every trace of lies on his face. He watches you, muted and numb, neither apologetic nor confused, for he knew this would happen all along. “Why are you acting as if you’re okay when you’re not?”
“What do you mean? I’m fine—”
“—you’re clearly not!” you blurt to hide your series of deep, shaky breaths. “I hate it when you act like everything is fine, as if anything that happens to you is trivial and no one should care but the truth is I care more than anything else in the world.”
When Hoseok remains silent, peering up at you, unmoved and inscrutable, the gnawing of your chest comes to the forefront.
“I always spill my heart to you. I’ve bawled my eyes out at midnight and I’ve screamed my lungs out over the dumbest things. Why can’t you do that for me?” your voice hitches but you persist. “You don’t have to tell me what happened, but why can’t you understand that you’re worthy, that I want you to at least cry and scream when your heart wants to instead of bottling it up as if no one cared enough to listen?”
Seeing as the boy remains silent, perhaps, knowing him, even a bit amused by your babbling, your fiery emotions manifest in the form of fury as you hastily grab a piece of paper, scribble holes and words into the blank space, and fold the message into a delicate, flawed paper plane before tossing it straight into the opposing side.
The boy receives it with utmost ease, eyes remaining fixated on you and posture retaining in its casual lean as he raises a hand where the paper plane lands perfectly into its fate between his two fingers. Unfolding the paper slowly, the slightest of smiles makes an appearance on Hoseok’s otherwise unmoved mien.
“‘I want to cry with my best friend,’” he reads with a chuckle.
Gulping, your eyes follow his every action as if your life depended on it. Your best friend, on the other hand, ignores your dartlike focus as he grabs a pen, twirls it between his fingers, eyes darkened and affixed to the paper, and finally tosses the plane to the side of his desk. Alas, the boy lifts his sunken line of sight to connect with your own lost ones for the first time of the night; and when he gazes at you, he does so with conviction, but when he speaks, he does so apathetically, for when he deadpans his next confession, your heart becomes equally numb.
“She stood me up for another guy.”
His words echo in the cold, his confession a stark contrast to the holiday lights that brings sparkles throughout nightfall and the smiles that surround your family and his and everyone else in the neighborhood with the only exceptions being you and him. They refuse to depart even in the wrath of the winter wind and, instead, begrudgingly lingering in the space between you and him as if to incessantly pour salt on his wound.
The holiday spirits were not all to blame, however, for your silence is just as much of a mockery to him as the neighborhood that reminded him this time of the year was for joy and his pain was invalid. You had encouraged him to speak his mind, to cry his heart out to you, yet when it really came down to it, your mind runs blank. It isn’t that you don’t want to speak—it’s that you can’t. Something in your chest sinks, something in you shrivels and contorts and there really aren’t any words that could adequately convey the pitted, gutted weight that dawns upon you when he shares his burdens with you; even so—with all the pain of your being and the numbness of your mind that only shrills at you with questions like how were you to survive and bear this state for a duration that seems so vigorous at this point in time—if it were to lighten his burden even the slightest, you would do it all again in the beat of a heart.
The more you mulled in your endless cycle of thoughts, regretting your lack of interference in Hoseok’s evidently toxic relationship, the more your internal mess of emotions manifested itself externally; because before you know it, your nose is sniffling and your cheeks are staining under the warm waterworks that flow from your vision blurred by ripples, as if you were gazing at the surface from underwater.
“What are you doing,” Hoseok chuckles, a breath of disbelief escaping his upturned lips, “you silly girl, why are you crying over someone else’s pain?”
“I-I’m not crying,” you retort, reclining in defeat when Hoseok arches a brow and you sniffle as if on cue. It’s okay to cry, to sniffle, to sob and look like a total mess with disheveled, uncombed hair and unmatching pair of pajamas, because you’ve done it all around him. To you, there’s no one else but him whom could make you feel as comfortable even in your most vulnerable state as him. “But it’s not just ‘someone,’ I’m crying over your pain, Hoseok. I-it’s not like I would cry for just anyone… i-it’s just that,” you babble through your hiccups because the both of you are well aware that once your jar of insults regarding his ex has been opened, there’s no going back. “I-I hate how she could hurt you like this. I hate the thought of anyone hurting you. You don’t deserve to be hurt, you don’t deserve this. She treats you like shit, and I hate the fact that you still forgive her after all that she’s done, but what I hate most is how she never fucking cherishes you when she has my best friend, my whole world, in her hands—” Hoseok never budges, sitting and watching you as still as he could, as if even the slightest of movements would interrupt this moment “—you’re not really that smart but you damn could be if you wanted to, maybe. You’re good looking, you’re damn charming, you’re the most loving, patient, understanding, and gentle guy and any girl would be lucky to have you. I just don’t fucking understand why she can’t see that.”
Hoseok doesn’t answer in response to your confession. He simply gazes at you in silence, cautious to conceal every movement that would give him away—but his eyes were beautifully expressive, enough to paint you a thousand words. He watches you, carefully and intently, as if the apple of his eye was a delicate flower threatened by the spoilt of his touch. He doesn’t speak, but his utter attention for you and only you are enough for even you, with the lowest of self-esteem, feel treasured like a pearl hidden away from the intrusive peers of the world.
And now, out of the blue, you begin to shy away with a heart thumping in sought for stability and a shift in your wavering eyes.
Has his stare always had this impact on you?
Finally, Hoseok lets out a breath of a chuckle, shifty eyes peering down at the side and away from your gaze but the stretch of his lopsided grin that were enough to raise the apples of his cheeks were enough for anyone to ravish at. A long minute of comfortable silence stills the air, your confession lying out in the open between your window and his. The blue of the midnight sky looms over his side tonight, crickets chirp on the side and sprinklers dutifully water the gardens in the neighborhood, while he turns to reconnect his gaze with yours and you wouldn’t dare to break the serenity, for you knew these were the reveries you would long for at school where you were miles away from him.
Your best friend sighs, lying his head and left cheek into his arms that were perched on his window sill. The boy prims a gentle half-smile, locks of his chestnut hair grazing his sun-kissed skin just over his eyes. As much as your blown steam had amped you into a state of disorder, something about the ocean depths of his eyes restored the tranquility in the night air. He observes you, silently, as if marveling the sight before him. It takes you a dozen more seconds of exchanged glances between you and him before you realize he’s been patiently watching your endless stream of tears and you hastily rub them away with the palms of your hands.
“Thank you,” Hoseok finally utters.
You frown at his one statement throughout your entire trainwreck of a rant, “for what?”
“For crying for me,” Hoseok adorns a bittersweet grin at you, heaving a puff of white into the air. “Man, I don’t think I could even cry even if I wanted to.”
“What do you mean…?” you mumble with knitted brows.
“I mean, my best friend would cry even more if she were to see me cry… wouldn’t you?” Hoseok chortles at the way you pout at the thought of his tears. Lifting his head to lean against his hand now with an elbow perched to the sill, he sighs. “Plus, it's kind of odd for me to say it out loud, but… it doesn’t hurt anymore. Her going out of her way to break me… this time, I don’t want to cry or yell or rant like I used to with you. I just don’t feel the pain anymore.”
“Why…?” your breath shakes as your lips quiver, because the thought of Hoseok being so beaten down and repeatedly stomped on to the point of becoming numb to a very humane emotion of distrust has you clearly on the brink of another breakdown.
“At first I didn’t understand why either,” Hoseok’s eyes avert to you, “but I think I do now.”
“What—”
“—it’s a secret,” he shoots you a wink and you can’t seem to find the right words to speak, it’s almost as if you’ve been stunned silent. After a long few seconds of silence, one that amuses Hoseok and confuses you, Hoseok continues with an utter under his breath as he begins playing with whatever dust has collected on his sill, “would you… cry for him?”
“Who?” you could barely manage to crack a sound having bawled your eyes out just minutes prior.
“Your boyfriend,” he snorts, peering up from his sill to shoot an unamused glance, “Seokjin.”
“Oh,” you turn your head to glimpse at the spot on the sidewalk where you and Jin had stood earlier today. Who knew you would have been in this disheveled state when you could have sworn you were on cloud nine just an hour before. Mulling over your thoughts, you could barely notice Hoseok’s stare through it all, “I don’t know… we just started talking. I don’t think I would be able to cry. Hell, I didn’t even know I was capable of crying for others until I met you.”
“Uuuhuh, is that so?” he drawls. “So how was the date tonight? What do you think of him?”
“Jin? Well, I guess , he’s… he’s still as hot as ever. Remember how I always marveled over his lips? Yeah, his lips are just as divine as I remember. He’s super tall and his arms are so sturdy,” you catch yourself before persisting on a tangent.
“So basically you think he’s the one,” he rolls his eyes.
“Well, it’s still a bit awkward between us. I don’t really blame him for reacting that way though, who the hell cries on their first date?” you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the embarrassment. “Do you think he hates criers? Oh God, do you think he would still date me if he finds out I’m a crier?”
“Tsk,” Hoseok snorts, eyes lifting from the ground to peer into yours. Grinning, he speaks, “I don’t know because, frankly, who else would be willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on as often as I do?”
“There are some people willing to hear me cry!”
“Who?”
“Um… my friends,” you insist.
“More than me?”
“No…” you reply meekly and Hoseok shrugs smugly in response. “But Jin… Jin’s different. He might change once we get to know each other. I like how he knows what he wants and I can tell because he’s never been afraid to tell me…”
Your voice trails into silence as your mind wanders elsewhere, staring at the past where you and Jin had stood. You could still remember the darkening of his eyes. You could still feel the chills down your back. The longer you stared at the remnants of the past as you peered out the window with Hoseok across from you, the more aware you become of the way Jin’s piercing gaze bores a hole into your conscience.
“...Y/N?” Hoseok quirks his head.
“I don’t think Jin likes it when I talk to you,” you utter. “He says I should be careful around boys, including you.”
“Oh?” the boy muses, eyes flickering and brows quirking. “Well, he’s not exactly wrong.”
You frown, “what do you mean by that?”
“I am a guy, am I not?”
“Well, yes, but you’re different. We—”
“—have you already forgotten what just happened? Did you wear red expecting something to happen between you and him tonight?” he chuckles at the way your cheeks turn beet red and your arms subconsciously cross over your chest—and when his eyes blink once again, they flicker between the calm blue mien of the boy next door and the dark abyss of the enigmatic boy you’ve always struggled to put a finger on. “He’s not wrong, Y/N. You should be careful of me.”
The rapid thumping of your heart against your chest edges you onto a thrill of venturing into the unknown, yet the cause of such a rise in adrenaline comes to you unidentified. The thought of fearing Hoseok, the only person you’ve ever fully allowed yourself to expose your vulnerable side to, comes across as silly to you; yet why does his warning excite you so?
After a moment of silence, Hoseok finally persists, “so, what are you going to do?”
“What do you mean what am I going to do?” you repeat, baffled. “Of course I won’t do anything. I get that you’re a guy and he could be jealous and all, but you’re my best friend—”
“—and he’s your boyfriend,” Hoseok emphasizes, raising his hands in defense when you raise a brow at him. “Not that he should have any control over your life, but maybe you should consider his feelings? Maybe a bit of a break between,” he points at the two of you, “us, would help us both.” After watching you stubbornly cross your arms in refusal to oblige, Hoseok sighs. “‘Jessi never really liked it when I mentioned you either.”
Jessi—for some reason, the sound of her name, her nickname not to mention, leaving his lips is like a cut to your heart. You hate it. You hate how he’s still considerate of his ex. You hate how he mentions her so casually.
And a break? Between you and Hoseok? The daunting thought weighs heavily on your shoulders and suddenly you feel like the whole world has come crashing down. What were you to do if you needed a shoulder to cry on? A person to chat with through the insomniac nights? This would be the first Christmas you’ve spent without Hoseok in countless years. You can’t even bear that possibility, so what were you to do if it were to become reality?
“I’m… I’m scared,” you meekly mutter under your breath. “I’m scared we’ll lose contact. I’m scared we’ll change so much that we won’t be able to reconnect. I’m scared I won’t be able to cry comfortably with you. I’m scared things just won’t be the same if we were to stop and it’s a dumb thought because our friendship is so much more than that and maybe I’m worrying too much but I’m scared anyways.”
“You think you’re the only one scared?” Hoseok utters, barely audible as a short zephyr passes by to graze against your locks and his. “The day we stop talking, the day I can’t call you my best friend anymore… I didn’t think anything could hurt me more than she did, but that thought alone… I can’t think of anything that would hurt more,” he turns to gazes at you, delicate yet unfazed with that gentle smile of his, “I don’t think I could ever bear the pain if that day were to ever come. “
“Hoseok, I—” your voice cracks and tingles in the back of your throat reaching the back of your eyes signal for you to stop before you’re sent on another sobbing mess. Fully understanding the situation, Hoseok only chortles at your abrupt silence before gesturing for you to write your thoughts on paper instead.
The words come easily to you, for the pen slides effortlessly across the paper and the purest forms of your expression manifests in the works of ink.
I would never hurt you like her.
That would be pushing it, perhaps a bit too insensitive, you thought as you hastily push the paper aside; but just as your hands clutch for another paper that now prints “you deserve better,” Hoseok calls out to you from the other side.
The boy shakes his head and points his finger at your other hand where the other accursed paper remains crumpled.“I thought there were no secrets between us,” he then sing-songs, “honesty is the best policy!”
Groaning, you grumble to yourself in disatisfaction as you quickly scribble down “you deserve better” to the original paper and reluctantly send the paper plane his way. Mentally bracing yourself for the embarrassment that was to come, your efforts are fruitless when the boy receives your secrets with grace and smiles at the paper before quickly scribbling down his own heart and sends it your way.
and what exactly is that?
Letting out a breathy chortle, you store the paper plane in the corner of your desk before returning your attention to the peering eyes of his, “I’ll tell you someday when the time is right... but not now.”
“Aww,” Hoseok drawls, scrunching his nose with a playful scowl. “And when would that be?”
“Hmmm,” you mull over it for the briefest of moments, because you weren’t even sure of the answer yourself but something about the way your eyes can’t help averting to the corner of your desk where the paper plane lies enchanted by the touch of your whole world across the views of your window pane tells you it would serve a purpose in a time more pivotal than now. “I’ve complimented you too many times today. I’ll tell you when you need something to pick you up. Gotta keep that ego in check, y’know?”
“Uhuh, and who do you think I hang out around enough to get that from?” he snorts, lips downturning and head nodding in disbelief; but when you simply shrug off his retort, the boy finally gives in with a loud huff and a plop against the window sill. He mumbles, lips partially muffled by his arms, “can I at least keep the plane, then?”
“Why?” you laugh at his genuine dejection. “It’s just a piece of paper. I can read it to you everyday, if you want.”
“Really?” Hoseok quirks a brow. The air catches your last breath and your gaze widens, taken aback by the overly eager jump in his velvety voice. Cocking to his head to the side, he flashes a tilted grin, “can I hold you to that promise?”
“Yeah,” the words slip past your lips just as easily as your consciousness, “I would never break our promises. You know that. I’m not her.”
“Really?” he speaks low but sure.
Still yet sure, your gaze never dares to disconnect from that of his own dark yet shaky, for the fear of losing sight of your best friend, as if he would dissipate into sand and drift off into the winter wind and out of your life the second you turn your head, as if he had never existed in the first place, were enough to keep your every being teetering on the edge of a cliff.
“I promise.”
“Okay,” he smiles through his murmurs. The gentle grin that adorns his pressed lips were subtle, hidden from everyone but his world across the window panes of his bedroom, but you could tell this moment would be one etched into the memories he would relish perpetually for years to come. His eyes shift to the side and off into the distance, the way they do on the rare occasion Hoseok feigns composure in moments he could do anything but, but you swear you could catch him twinkling akin to the stars that soar above you both.
You don’t realize how far you’ve ventured off into the blue side until the boy of your sights lies his head comfortably into his arms and flutters his eyes shut—and now you wonder: has he ever caught himself ravishing in the sights of the girl next door?
“‘I think we should get to bed now,” you blurt to stop your thoughts in the midst of its tracks. “It’s getting late.”
“Why not break a few rules here and there, Y/N?” Hoseok grins, keeping his eyes shut throughout his rest. “We’re on break. Is there really a curfew? Plus, we’ve talked much later than this before.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know… what if we fall asleep and our parents caught us sitting here like this?”
“Then let them,” he deadpans, peeping open an eye at you when baffled silence is all that he receives from you. “It’s our last time talking like this for a while, remember? C’mon, stay with me for just a while longer. Please?”
Right—the thought dawns upon you like gray clouds looming over an otherwise starry night—you had made a deal with Hoseok for the sake of his relationship and yours. Giving in, you plop into your own arms on the window sill and make yourself comfortable for the inevitable hours that you knew were to come of moments like these.
And you were right; because just a couple of minutes later, after a couple of times you were so sure Hoseok had drifted off into sleep and you tried to sneak off into your bedroom just to grab a snack or two only to hear him calling out for you with the utter of your name, you peep open your eyes to a sound asleep boy across from you, deep in slumber. The creases of his forehead, the knit between his brows, and the years of wear and tear and broken trust painted by the dark circles under his eyes are now merely scars of the past under your guise—but scars are scars, and you know the moment you were to look away and he was no longer under your watch, this ephemeral moment of tranquility would drift into the wind like the diel duration of daylight.
But for now, you relish in the fact that you could resume vigilance over the boy next door. Smiling to yourself, utterly content in a moment you wish you could keep frozen in time, you watch him from afar. Heart swelling and strings tugging, you wonder to yourself aloud.
“Dumby,” you sigh with a smile on your face that mirrors those hinted by the slight upcurve of his lips, “why don’t you ever look this peaceful around her?”
-
Winter blues consume you for the following week, for the phantom of his presence are all that you’re made aware of. Because every morning, when the sun rises and its beams blind you, you’re reminded of his dazzling demeanor and that damn grin of his that has you seeing the light at the end of the darkest tunnels. Because every night, when the moon rises and a lavish sapphire hue shimmers across his skies that you couldn’t help but peak at, you can practically hear his honey-like voice rambling on about anything and everything and soothing you to a sleep that you were to awaken from with a nostalgic yearning that tugs at you for many days to come.
For every hour, you would scan your surroundings, wondering whether your name had been called by Hoseok or Jin.
For every minute, you would pause in the midst of your tracks, wondering if you should bring an additional one back home for Hoseok only to be snapped back into reality when Jin calls for your name.
And for every second that you step foot into your bedroom, you would be haunted by that hauntingly beautiful night that still seems like an unattainable dream of last night, for the remnants of his greetings, grin, and wave from the comforts of his room whenever he spotted you returning home and the curtains that remained shut even when your alarm went off made you painfully aware of the gape in your heart. Snuggling in bed and gazing at the golden warmth that floods your room by those familial lights of his, you always find yourself staring off into the distance where your curtains and his dutifully shrouded the longing gaze that would have been exchanged between the two. Painfully aware of his late nights, you can’t help but wonder if he felt the same ghosts of your presence in his daily routine or if you were the only one holding onto a past he had outgrown.
The guilt that plagues you the most, however, evidently remains in the cracks of your relationship with Jin. Every date brought you closer to the high school daydream, close enough to leave the both of you wanting more but far enough to become aware of the fork in the road. Although you can’t exactly put a finger on it, the both of you are shrewd enough to recognize the nagging feeling of an inevitable distance… it’s just that neither of you are willing to address it, particularly Jin.
But the two of you are getting along just fine—flirtatious texts, vivacious winks, and intimate moments of hand-holding and lip-locking—so how cruel would it be of you to yearn for the nights that were long gone?
“Where do you want to go next, babe?” Jin squeezes your hand before pecking a quick kiss to your cheeks that adorns a wide grin. “Last Sunday we went to an arcade… yesterday we went to the theaters… how about hitting the rink today?”
“Ice skating?” your eyes widen at the thought, especially after experiencing flashbacks to the time you held onto the side for your dear life while watching Hoseok skating and laughing away as he had the time of his life with Jessica—and it’s almost as if the gnawing pain of your chest from that particular time transcends into present time. “I don’t know…”
“Why not? You don’t know how to skate? C’mon, I’ll teach you,” Jin chuckles at your reluctance, tugging at your hand and squeezing them firmly before a swift wink. “If you really want, I’ll even hold your hand the entire time.”
“Hey!” you gawk and slap his chest. “I just don’t have fond memories at that particular rink. It’s not like I’m trying to get you to hold my hand, you already hold them enough anyways because someone’s always so needy.”
Jin doubles over from laughing and you can’t help but follow along. He gently bumps his shoulder against yours only to close the remaining gap between the two of you and leans in to murmur, “but you know you love it.”
“...yeah,” you roll your eyes, despite the grin on your face, “whatever.”
“So what do you say? Hm?” he nudges you persistently. “I promise I’ll replace whatever bad experience you had and make it your favorite date for as long as you can remember, okay?”
You’ve been avoiding the skating rink for well over five years now ever since that time you had reluctantly agreed to third-wheeling with Hoseok and Jessica. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea when Hoseok had refused to leave you alone on Christmas and proceeded to paint an all-too perfect picture of his girlfriend at that time, before the two of you were aware of Jessica’s affairs, but the dirty glares she had shot you throughout the entirety of the night proved otherwise.
Your eyes brighten at the sound of his promising proposal and you could tell Jin had recognized that from the way his eyes light up as well. Smiling to yourself, you nod and reciprocate the pinky Jin had lifted as a symbol of his promise, “I’ll hold you to that, Kim Seokjin.”
“Leave it to me,” the boy grins and you swear the high-school-you would have swooned, “you can trust me.”
...and to be fair, your trust is proven not to be misplaced, for the rest of the night is nearly, if not exceedingly, the ideal date you’ve always dreamt of having with the Seokjin of your grade. The euphoric flutters of your heart, the holiday spirits in the air, and his protective hands and charming half-giggle half-cackles are straight from your high school diary that was Hoseok and his lending ears.
“What?!” you have to hush Jin when he nearly shrills. “You’ve liked me since high school and you’ve dreamed of going on this date for all these years?”
“Yeah,” you bashfully mutter under your breath, squeezing both his hands when you nearly fall backwards onto your bottom, “but scream it out any louder and I’m taking it all back.”
“Damn,” he curses at himself, brows knitting deep in thought even as he skates backwards and guides you through the bustling crowd of couples with ease. “How did I not know? I would have asked you out if I knew—”
“—wait, you actually remembered me in high school?” your eyes widen and he lifts his gaze to meet yours with an arched brow. “And you liked me?”
“Well,” Jin mumbles through barely parted lips, “why else would I keep your number all these years?”
“True… ah!” you yelp when you nearly slip but Jin holds firmly onto the sides of your arms. “So why did you text me after all these years?”
“I guess,” Jin’s gaze locks with yours, a surge of confidence glistening in those dark orbs of his, “I just didn’t want to wait forever until fate finally gives me an excuse to talk to you.”
“Oh, well I’m glad you did,” you reciprocate Jin’s smile, glimpsing at the ground when something catches you off guard in the corner of your eyes, “wait, is that—”
“—what?” Jin turns around to follow your line of sight over his shoulders and at a particular girl across the rink.
Those luscious brown locks you had once compared your own to, the small of her back where you had eyed Hoseok’s hands gliding over, and the curves of her hips where Hoseok had once drawn circles into with his thumb, you could recognize that back anywhere. The worst part of it all that has your heart sinking and your every being set ablaze: you could also recognize the street attire and broad stature of the boy next to her.
“Is that Jessica and Joon?” you could barely maintain your composure as your strangled words escapes through gritted teeth, chest heaving uncontrollably, eyes burning and fiery, and hands curling into a fist with utter fury. Jin fruitlessly attempts to shake you awake, hands trying to catch yours once again after you had tossed his aside and began marching past him and toward the subject of your rage with all kinds of vicious thoughts in your mind. “I’m going to fucking kill you, Jessica!”
“Y/N! Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Jin calls out to you but his voice rides the waves off somewhere in the distance, as if you were underwater; because all you can see ahead of you is a tunnel vision of her and her new love affair that happened to be another one of your worst enemies. Everything else, the curious eyes of the public and the whispers of their gossip, dissipate as you pass by them with your wrath being the sole fuel to your fire.
The subject to your hollers whirls around with a whimsical smirk on her face and the boy beside her only furrows his brows at the sight of you. When you miraculously reach them across the rink, it takes everything in you not to land a punch square at her cocked jaw. Jessica feigns delight as she squeals, “well, if it isn't Y/N! I haven’t seen you in years!”
“Cut your bullshit,” you deadpan, pointing a threatening finger at her and Namjoon, “Hoseok isn’t here so you can throw all the dirty glares you want, but don’t think for even a second I’ll let you get away with this.”
“With what?” she snickers, pretending to gasp when she catches you averting your darting eyes between her and Namjoon. “Oh—” she hooks her hand over Namjoon’s arm and rests her head on his shoulders “—you mean us? Didn’t Hoseok tell you? Or are you two not good ol’ best friends anymore?”
“So… you knew,” you could barely stutter from the outpouring rage that overwhelms you; because even as your nails dig into your whitening palms, teeth grit until your jaws shrill of pain from a sharp jolt, and lungs heave deep breaths in a vain attempt to slow the hammer of your chest, your heart aches from the thought of Hoseok. Your next words arrive slowly but every second of delay displays just a fraction of the indignation pent up inside you. “You knew Hoseok saw you with another guy the same night you stood him up and you never thought to even apologize to him? You’re not even… the slightest bit… sorry?”
“Sometimes better things come up and plans don’t always go through,” Jessica simply shrugs, gesturing to the boy beside her who doesn’t peep a single word.
“Better things? You mean this guy over here?” you articulate, narrowing your eyes at his silence. “Namjoon? You know how much pain Hoseok went through because of him. You’re going to cheat on Hoseok for this guy, who blackmailed him to drop out of the dance team or else he would drop out the night before the showcase and run off and rat to you all about me and Hoseok, which he fucking did anyways? I know he told you. Hoseok told you everything and you’re taking advantage of it—”
“—why do you even care?” the boy finally intercepts and he doesn’t even budge when you shoot him a death glare. “You might be his best friend, but this isn’t really your business. Does he even listen to your advice?”
“No, he doesn’t because he’s an idiot, but as his best friend, it’s my job to stick with him through it all,” you jab a finger at his chest, but his resistance and that unfazed look on his face only irks you further, “but you… you used to be one of his best friends too until you mishandled his trust for the sake of receiving credit for something you took little to no part in managing and adding one more fucking bulletpoint to your college resume? And now what? You’re trying to steal his girlfriend? When are you going to stop this stupid jealousy you have for Hoseok? Honestly? Fuck you, too!”
The apathetic demeanor of the boy’s finally cracks when he flinches at the reminder of his wrongdoings, but even that isn’t enough to quell the fury in you, for all you could tell yourself is that he deserves it.
“Actually, Namjoon, baby, she has a point,” Jessica places a hand on his chest before he could speak. “You are his best friend and he’s made me obviously aware of that fact for a stupid number of times as well, so… doesn’t it beg the question: why aren’t you two together?”
You snort exasperatedly, “what?”
“Think about it. Hoseok is my backup, my second option after Joon; and as you’ve said, Hoseok knows of that fact, and yet, he comes running after me every time—” she nudges an elbow into Namjoon’s side when he arches a brow at her suggestion before throwing you a smug smile having noticed the flinch in your eyes “—so why… doesn’t he just run to you? Are you not even worthy of being his second choice? And why oh why do you look so sad now after realizing the truth?”
She has a point. Why does Hoseok keep running back to her if he knew all along? Why is he willing enough to cry his heart out to you but never enough to lend his heart in the name of love? If he had done so just a year ago when you had officially given up on him, having witnessed his begrudgingly on-and-off relationship with Jessica, you would have accepted long ago—but you moved on. You’re with Jin now.
Yet why does it hurt you so to hear your deepest fears that had been buried in the back of your mind finally put into words?
“She doesn’t look sad because she isn’t anyone’s second choice,” a familiar voice lures you back into reality but you can’t help but notice the unsettling drop in your stomach when you peer up to find Jin. “She’s my first choice and that’s all that matters, right, Y/N?”
“R-right,” your heart nearly stops when he peers down to catch your shifty eyes.
Jin smiles smugly before returning a scowl at the opponent, “so shut the fuck up, Jessica.”
“Ugh,” Jessica gags, rolling her eyes, “I have to say I’m surprised to see you with her, Seokjin.”
“Yeah? Does it sting to see your high school crush happily with your arch enemy?” Jin cocks his head while you and Namjoon exchange wide-eyed glances between the two of them and the exposed secret lies floating in the open air.
“That’s so old, Seokjin. How long are you going to hold onto that? Whatever, let’s go, Joon,” Jessicia rolls her eyes, tapping on Namjoon’s arm and skating toward the rink’s exit on the side. Before you could finally let out your bated breath you had subconsciously held throughout the entire ordeal, Jessica whirls around to call out to you once more. “I was his first, Y/N. I loved him first and I was the first one he loved. Don’t forget that.”
The rate of your heart can finally settle but it’s impossible to ignore its throbbing presence, for each of its pounds reverberate an unexplainable desperation like roots branching out from its origins and its pumps send further fury instigated by the acknowledgement of defeat across to your extremities. The last two people you ever wanted to see both individually and together have now faded off into the distance, yet the harm they had inflicted on your state of mind remain like blood-stains on white cloth. Hands shaking uncontrollably and eyes staring intensely enough to bore a hole into the exit, you find yourself underwater once again until Jin finally grips both sides of your arms.
“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N,” Jin repeatedly calls out to you, brows furrowing when you finally return his gaze, “are you okay? What the hell was that all about—”
“—she isn’t his first,” you mutter under your breath.
“What?” Jin scoffs, eyes never budging from yours. “What do you mean?”
“I just—” your voice hitches when you realize the words that had slipped from your lips “—I just hate how much control she has over him and I hate watching him just let her do it! She cheats on him all the time and he knows it, and… and—”
“—and how is any of that your fault?” Jin states sternly. “You’ve told him and whether or not he listens it out of your control. You’ve done your best, Y/N… so you need to stop thinking about him all the time or at least try not to around me.”
“I know—” you sniffle, hastily wiping the tears that just won’t seem to stop regardless of how damn hard you try, for the sake of him “—I know, I-I really do try not to, Jin. I was just mad when I saw her.”
“You made a ruckus, Y/N. You lost your composure for him, and I know he’s your best friend and I’m trying to understand, but,” he hesitates when he pauses, watching the tears stain your cheeks, “but I can’t help but wonder if you would do that for me.”
“I would, Jin!” your head shoots up when you hear the disappointment in his voice and your desperation shows through the glimmer of tears in your eyes. Your voice wavers in the midst of a sob, “I promise I won’t lose control anymore. I won’t… I won’t think about him anymore. I promise I don’t like him.”
“You promise?” Jin lifts a finger to a teardrop on your cheeks, eyeing the droplet that transfers to his skin. When you nod, he frowns. “Then why are you crying over another guy?”
“I…” you desperately forage through your scrambled mind but fail to in the mess of a state you’re in. Uncomfortable, stiff silence ensues and your heart races in suspense, staring at the floor and anything but his intent gaze that watches your every move. How could you have been so stupid? How could you not realize how much you were hurting Jin? Finally, mustering the courage to break the silence, you stammer once again, “I promise he’s just my—”
“—kiss me.”
“...what?”
“Kiss me, Y/N,” Jin demands and you can sense an equal level of desperation when your eyes meet his. “Kiss me so that I know you don’t like Hoseok—”
—his words are interrupted by your hands that cup each side of his cheeks firmly. You have to do this to gain his trust back, you try to convince yourself. Sure, it may your first kiss and you’ve always imagined it to be shared with Hoseok, but that dream lost steam when he came home only to relish in the fact that he had shared it with Jessica. Now, to fully give up and devote yourself to your current significant other, you just have to move on. Slowly with a quivering breath, you close the distance between the two of you, lips just inches away from his when, out of the blue, you stop.
His name, his smile, his potential reaction—you just can’t stop thinking of him.
“Jin, I’m sorry—” but your apology is cut short when Jin presses his lips firmly to yours.
At first you’re taken aback, too frozen to move even as his hands move to rest on your waist; but as a split second passes, your mind begins to wander. Why aren’t you happy? Why doesn’t this send your heart fluttering and your mind screaming of joy? This has always been your dream: Jin’s plush lips grazing against yours with you in his embrace. So why does his actions have your chest twisted in some sort of contortion you never knew could be done before? Didn’t you promise Jin you loved him and him only?
Closing your eyes, you wrap your arms over his neck and anticipate for more when Jin pulls back for a second only to be left hanging in silence. The boy clutches your wrists, gently albeit undeniably a tinge of frustration in his squeeze, and removes your hands off him. Eyes opening carefully, you find him staring at something on your face when you lift a finger to touch the drips of water flowing down your cheeks.
Horror strikes down upon you.
“I’m sorry, Jin, it’s not what you think—”
“—no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced myself on you,” he mutters, taking a step back and holding onto your hand to guide you toward the exit of the rink.
“Jin…” you meekly call out to him while trying to stifle your sniffles. Your heart drops when he decides not to respond, even as he helps you untie your skates on the bench. “Jin, I promise I’ll figure everything out soon. I’m still angry over Jessica a-and—”
“—Y/N,” Jin utters lowly, head lowered to focus on your skates even as he speaks, “I think it’s best if we just leave it at that and head home for the night. I’ll walk you home.”
“No,” his eyes peered up at you when you blurt, “I don’t think it would be right for me to let you do that after all I’ve done to you tonight. I can handle it on my own.”
Or so you say; otherwise, why does your heart wrench at his lack of a rebuttal and the turning of his back as he walks off into the opposite direction when the time comes to your momentary and potentially perpetual farewell? Why does your mind linger on the sight of an empty sidewalk where he would once hold your hand on the way home, even as you’re standing before the door of your house? Why did what was supposed to be a perfect night leave you here, standing in the middle of the jet black night with winds howling and crickets chirping, feeling alone, abandoned, and forgotten?
Hearing something shuffle from the other side of the door, you quickly hold your breath and release large, white puffs until your breathing became somewhat rhythmic to your regular composure. You then rub your cheeks of any remaining tears and fan some wind into your eyes in an attempt to soothe the probably bloodshot look of yours before opening the door and greeting the very person you were expecting to see yet so despairingly hoped otherwise.
“Wow, Y/N, you’re finally home? It’s already almost midnight,” your mother scolds, frowning at you as you remove your shoes at the front entrance. “So, who were you with?”
Your silence evidently concerns your mother, for the crease between her brows deepens. It isn’t that you choose not to answer, it’s that you don’t think you could even say his name without bursting into a sobbing mess.
Frowning, your mother sighs, “please don’t tell me you were with Hoseok.”
“W-What,” you stammer before you could retract the blurted words, eyes darting to your mom, “why? What’s wrong with Hoseok?”
“That boy is a good boy, really, but…”
“But… what? You’ve always loved Hoseok.”
“Yes, and I still do,” she affirms while taking a large bite out of a cookie by the kitchen island. “I always liked him, ever since you two became close friends. Funnily, actually, his parents and I always wondered if you two had a thing for each other.”
You flinch at her confession, brows knitting, “but…?”
“But… when I heard about his on and off relationship with his ex? What was her name, Veronica? Yoona? It had something to do with an ‘a’ at the end…”
“Jessica.”
Her name still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
“Ah, yeah! Jessica!” she snaps her fingers. “I was surprised, somewhat disappointed, really, when I heard he started dating someone else. Truthfully, I would’ve approved if you were to tell me you two were dating, but when I heard about it and how the poor boy keeps forgiving her even after how she treated him… and I’m sorry but you won’t be happy to hear this…”
“What, mom?”
“Well,” she pauses and shrugs, taking another bite out of her cookie, “I was glad you two weren’t dating. The boy is too gullible. Yes, he’s kind, polite, and oh is he handsome, but he’s weak.”
“He’s—” you blurt, mouth agape and at a loss for words as a familiar flame of frustration builds within you “—he’s not weak, mom. He’s understanding and he’s forgiving. He knows how to make people feel better when they’re upset and he’s always willing to listen, even when he has nothing to gain and the person has wronged them before—”
“—so, gullible—”
“—no, gentle—”
“—so, delicate.”
You can’t believe the situation you’re in. Standing in the kitchen, you with one shoe on and another off and her with a half-chomped cookie in her mouth, you’re at a standstill with your mother, arguing over the quality of your best friend slash neighbor slash family friend right next door… but for some reason, even after you had promised Jin not to, something innate within you compels you to protect Hoseok at all costs. It’s not as if you could change your mother’s mind. She just wants the best for you and you understand that; but if you were to just walk away in silence, you adamantly knew that would be an injustice to all the times Hoseok must have defended you in times when Jessica or even his parents spoke ill of you. You know he would have. You just do. And that’s what you’ve always loved about him.
“Yeah, he’s delicate,” you finally utter, removing your remaining shoe and looking directly in your mother’s eye. Climbing up the stair one by one, you speak and your words flow with ease for the first time since you had last spoken that one hazy night, “he’s delicate, he’s gentle, he’s stupid, he’s gullible, he’s understanding, and he’s too forgiving, but those are the exact reasons why he’s my best friend.”
“Hm, fair enough,” you can tell your mother has given up when she simply hums in response. “So who were you with? Are you finally dating around? Is he anything like Hoseok?”
“...I was with a friend… and no, he’s not anything like Hoseok,” you answer truthfully.
“So he’s not soft… do you like him…?” she tries to tiptoe in her own roundabout, cunning ways and you can’t help but sigh in defeat.
“No, he’s not soft,” you press a smile in an attempt to evade recalling anything from tonight’s incident along with the knot in your throat before bidding her goodnight and heading up to your room.
No, Jin isn’t soft. You wouldn’t describe him as a softie in the least bit. Is that a bad thing? Not exactly, but you did know for sure, at the very least, being a softie isn’t a bad thing… which reminds you, you had left your mother’s last question unanswered.
Still stubborn over her slight jabs at Hoseok and guilty over your evasion of questions, you hastily jog down the first step at the top of the staircase and call out, “I like his soft side, mom,” before running back into your bedroom and closing your door behind you.
Finally, left alone in the comforts of your room, you heave out an unsteady sigh. The tremble in your breath makes it all too apparent to you of your emotional wellbeing. Clearly, the incidents of tonight has shaken you both mentally and physically. Were you wrong for approaching Jessica? Why was Namjoon still knowingly hurting Hoseok? The image of the two snuggled up against one another pales in comparison to an image where Hoseok stood in place of Namjoon as you took their photo, a time when you had so craved to be the one in Hoseok’s arms. Still, the reminder of Jessica’s betrayal has your hands clutching in a fist.
Should you have allowed Jin to kiss you? Were you wrong for defending your best friend? Did you go overboard? Was he rightfully jealous? And how could you hurt Jin like this without even being aware of it? Worst of all… were you becoming another Jessica?
You don’t realize how long you’ve been standing in the dark, enveloped by the midnight blue of the night sky and the reminiscent golden warmth from across that tint your room, until your eyes have fully adjusted to the absence of light. The mundane daily routine overtakes you as you absentmindedly shuffle your feet to the side of your bed and toss your purse to the side, except tonight, you don’t have enough energy to bring yourself to change into pjs; ultimately, that might have proven to be a bad decision, for when you plop into bed with a heavy huff of a sigh, both physically and mentally exhausted, your mind begins to wade into deep water.
His golden light floods your room per usual tonight. It isn’t much of a surprise when your eyes wander to the sheer curtains that drape over your window. At first you tried your best to avoid any reminders of your best friend, for you truly desired to invest your all into a relationship with Jin; but even the simplest thing like his favorite snack at a candy store or a pair of sneakers that you knew he would have loved to add to his collection were enough to lure you back to that tranquil night where you could watch him drift to sleep underneath the bedazzled sky. Your heart tugs and your chest aches each and every time you’re reminded of what you used to have and what you could no longer have—and the warmth of his lights that completes the last jigsaw of home is the most haunting gape of them all.
His lights stream through your curtains and just barely illuminate your mini-skirt and black tights. Your gaze alternates between the window and your outfit. Once, twice, then you’re caught in a tortuous cycle between the conundrum of wanting to sleep your burdens away and giving up because the flashbacks of tonight’s incident seems to play akin to a looped tape with no end. Slowly then anxiously, your breathing becomes uneven and the phantom of an earlier cold sweat dawns upon you as you’re faced with another daunting decision.
Should you tell Hoseok about Jessica tonight?
No, you probably shouldn’t. You two haven’t spoken in well over a week now, so it would have been odd to spring this on him, right? Well, he is your best friend and nothing should have changed in this short time span—at least you two promised nothing would change—so maybe it would be a breach of trust if you were to omit him from a critical piece regarding someone he loves… but would it really do him anything? From what you’ve seen in the past, his ex brought him nothing but pain. Maybe, just maybe, this time the right role for you is to shield him from the inevitable agony and champion ignorance in exchange for bliss.
The remnants of your tears creep upon you as your sniffles steadily mark its return in your unsteady breaths. The bed creaks from under you as you force yourself onto your feet and toward your desk for some tissues—maybe that, too, was a bad decision, because as you’re busy blowing your nose and fruitlessly fixing your composure, something compels you to peer at the window. Even with the boundary of walls, curtains, and unspoken words between you and him, you can still envision everything just as they are. Him, in his olive green sweater that you wore oversized after he had so insisted you to borrow on a cold winter walk home from school, sitting by his mahogany desk and composing whatever beat he was onto tonight, sometimes even getting up to dance until his mother would yell at him to stop the ruckus—and perhaps, occasionally, you hope he would secretly peer up to gaze at your side with a longing smile, as well.
Something about your best friend next door just draws you in. It’s always been like that since you first met him as a child. You were enraptured by his ravishing mien, too dazzling to look away, and it remains irrevocably so. That’s right. With the remnants of Jin’s touch on your lips and this nostalgic downcast of your chest, you’re taken back to a time when you had loved him so; because as you’re allured by his golden light, you’re reminded of the time when you once peered out the window and burned with jealousy and longing, wishing that if he had already shared his first love, his first kiss, with her, then at least you could share yours with him.
But after tonight, those childhood dreams are officially a thing of the past… and you’re too numb to know how to feel—
—knock, knock.
You yelp in the midst of a hitch in your sniffles when a series of knocks bumps against your window pane and you catch the sight of a broom’s handle outside. Eyes widening, your mind scrambles but your body remains frozen. That could only be one person and he isn’t exactly the person you’ve been expecting nor wanting to see at the moment. Caught in the moment, you hastily rub any signs of tonight from your cheeks and waft some air into your bloodshot eyes.
One deep breath in, one deep breath out.
Drawing open the curtains and opening your windows, you muster all the courage you can to feign a smile eager to greet her best friend. “I thought you said we should take a break, Hoseok. Did you miss me alr—” but your sentence falls short, for when your gaze lift to meet his, you can read nothing but concern and a hint of fleeting surprise intermixed with a firm confirmation of his suspicions.
Eyes unwavering and affixed to the lock with yours, he murmurs, “what happened?”
“I-I, what—” you stumble because how… just how did he know “—what do you mean?”
Hoseok doesn’t speak because he doesn’t have to. Instead, he waits patiently. Eyes attentive and all-ears, his every being remains securely affixed to you. A chilly breeze brushes by, tousling his hair and brushing his bangs just slightly over his vision, as does yours, shrouding the invisible boundary between his side and yours, if only momentarily. He has a way with things, a way with you; because it’s almost as if the cap to your jar has just been eased open, just as the comfort of his presence, of him, always manages to do.
That look of his tells you he wouldn’t want you to hide anything from him… and you know that, you just know.
“It’s… it’s not a big deal,” you mumble, pausing for a second as your eyes avert to the side and back at him again. “I saw Jessica today. With Joon.” You wait for a reaction, for an indication that it’s okay for you to continue, and you receive your answer in the lack of an expression. Blank and unfazed, Hoseok simply blinks, waiting for you continue to the important details as to why you were crying and not why he should be. So you continue, but not before a sigh, “I was mad. I was so infuriated with her and I hated her for hurting you, so I argued with her in front of Jin. Jin, he… he didn’t like it. I was so upset that I started crying before I even knew it, and he didn’t like it.”
“He didn’t like seeing you cry…?” Hoseok speaks low and slowly, a growing fury manifesting in the crease between his brows.
The sight of his anger is all too mirroring of Jin’s.
“He didn’t like seeing me cry over you,” you correct. “He… he wanted me to kiss him, to prove that I liked him and not you. So I did. Well, maybe he did.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen, knowing fully well how long you had waited and fantasized to him for the perfect moment for your first kiss, but you’re tired. You’ve replayed the moment enough times in your mind. You don’t really want to explain anymore.
Hoseok’s jaw protrudes as he grits his teeth and he curls his hands into a fist until you could see the veins in his neck that branches out from underneath that green sweater of his. His mind must have been rummaging over a thousand ways to murder Jin at this moment.
But you just want some comfort.
“I don’t really blame him, though. It’s not entirely his fault. I’m not even sure why I cried. I guess I was really upset with Jess—” Hoseok’s phone rings and you clamp your mouth shut like you always have when his ex texted him “—it’s okay, you can answer them first.”
Glancing down at his phone, Hoseok seemingly stares at the screen. As hard as you tried, it’s impossible to read the expressions that flashes through his eyes in a split second. Finally, he punches a few buttons before tossing his phone to the side and looking up at you with conviction.
“I’ll be right back, Y/N,” he utters firmly, getting up from his seat as your eyes follow him every inch. “Wait for me.”
“Sure,” you don’t even get to say to him, for he was up and gone in the blink of an eye.
There he goes, running back to her as he always does, except this time it hurt you more than ever before. He had never interrupted you in the midst of a conversation. You’ve always wondered who he would have prioritized first between you and Jessica, and while you always knew it would be his girlfriend over his best friend, a part of you helplessly held onto the hope that maybe the many years of friendship meant more than a relationship founded upon crumbling loyalty.
Maybe this would be the last straw. Maybe your mother was right. Something tells you that if he weren’t to return within the next minute, you could no longer forgive him for putting you and him through all this pain that he just never seems to learn from.
You just want a hug.
“Hoseok?” you hear your mother gasp from the kitchen downstairs. Whirling around, you stare at your door with a confused frown on your face. “What’re you doing here so late, boy?”
“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, I’ll be leaving really soon,” he says firmly, his footsteps creaking up on the staircase. “I have something important to do.”
You can’t believe what’s happening. Is this all a dream? Are you hallucinating? Are you really that desperate to have him by your side?
What does that say about how you truly felt for Hoseok?
“Y/N?” Hoseok knocks gently on your door. “I’m coming in, okay?”
You don’t even get to answer nor move, as if you could, before the boy opens the door and shuts it behind him, enclosing the two of you in the same room for the first time in over half a year. Silence surrounds the air for a long minute and you still can’t surmise the physical, tangible presence of him standing here before you in your room. Perhaps he felt the same as well, for he finally found an excuse to meet the girl next door but the midnight rendezvous was all too surreal for him to believe.
Finally, he shifts.
Step by step, each seemingly slower and its distance from your affixed spot seemingly prolonged by the second, he approaches you; but when he finally stands within an arm’s length from you, his eyes never budging from yours, his arms reaches for you to pull you securely into his embrace.
The side of your head thumps against his chest and your chest and hands fall perfectly against his abdomen. You don’t realize your position until your eyes widen by an enveloped scent of him, one nostalgic enough for you reminisce over the nights you had spent in his clean laundry scented room mixed with a tint of him. Here you are, standing in your room with his arms wrapped over you protectively and a hand placed over the back of your head to keep you within his vicinity where he is sure to keep you safe and away from the world’s greatest danger; and when your hands hesitantly part, wrapping around his waist and meeting once again behind his back, you accept his offer.
At long last, comfort belonged in the arms of Jung Hoseok—and if you could, and as selfish as it would be, you wouldn’t be disinclined to stay like this in perpetuity.
“See?” Hoseok murmurs before he pulls away to tuck a lock of your hair behind an ear. “Didn’t I tell you only I could handle a crybaby like you? Silly girl.”
“Don’t you have something important to attend to?” you frown, even as he cups your cheeks in his hands and swipes a thumb under your eyes where the ghosts of your tears stain your skin.
“What’s more important than my crying best friend?” he chuckles, peering down at you and your helpless state.
This is how you envisioned it to be. Your first kiss. In your bedroom. With your first love. This is how your first kiss should’ve been—sparks flying, blood electrified, and heart jolting. Seconds, perhaps even minutes, pass by as the two of you watch the other through the windows to your soul, drowning in the depths of each other’s oceans and so desperately trying to retain the distance between you two over the fear of the unknown and a commitment that tethered the both of your hearts to others; but as you hold his lower half tightly to yours and as he cups your cheeks in his hold, leaning in ever so slightly, the two pairs of lips that seemed destined to touch could never come to be.
You made a promise to Jin.
Your lips touched Jins just hours before.
Flinching from the thoughts that flash through your mind, you break apart from the hold but never failing to notice the sudden switch in his eyes right before you had come to your senses. Maybe he, too, realized the gravity of the atmosphere. Maybe he no longer finds you worthwhile, knowing your lips had touched others on the same night of this rendezvous. Maybe he, too, remains tethered by the chains leading to his own first love.
It would have made perfect sense, really, but it still pains you so.
“You should go,” your voice cracks as you turn your back on him and gesture toward the door. “I don’t think my mom likes having you here in my room.”
“Why not?” you hear Hoseok utter, watching his unmoving moonlit shadow on your floor.
“Because…” your mind scrambles to find another reason that would hurt him less yet justified enough to convince him to leave, but alas, you find none. “Because she knows about you and Jessica. She thinks you wouldn’t be a good fit for me… not that it really matters... she doesn’t understand that we’re just friends—”
—a soft gasp of air leaves your lips when you feel his chest pressed against your back and he brings you in even closer with the wrap of his arm over your chest, just seconds before you caught wind of his two, wide confident strides from behind.
“Can’t we just stay like this? For a little while longer,” he asks, his lips and velvety voice just barely grazing over your right ear, “even if just as friends.”
Just as friends. The words echo in your mind just as Jessica’s last remarks had. Were you really okay with being his second resort? Hesitantly, you nod. At some point in time, you find yourself whirled around to rest in his arms face-to-face and place your ear comfortably against his chest where you could hear his heart beating in syncopation to yours.
“I’m sorry, Hoseok,” your voice is muffled by his sweater, “I tried to convince her that she just didn’t understand you. I tried to defend you.”
“No, no,” he shakes his head before resting it on top of yours once again. “She’s right. I need to do better.”
Slow, calm, serene—akin to a meandering river settling into stillness, its riffles steadying and its ripples settling, the withdrawing distortion of the moon’s reflection and the clearing of the hazy, gray clouds looming above the night sky draw the curtains open to reveal the dazzling radiance of a full moon…
“I promise I’ll do better.”
...and your heart reaches an epiphany, for it now knows exactly who to call home.
-
Alas, Christmas has finally arrived on one of the coldest evenings of the month. Standing in front of your mirror, you glance over your outfit just one last time. Something about dressing well for Jin tonight leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. Jin had apologized to you both through text and in person, seeking you out from home and even managing to convince your mother of his worthiness, and the two of you reconciled in the past week, despite your intentions for tonight; because even if you and Hoseok had not spoken at all since last week and your heart aches at the thought of what you were to do tonight, your resolution remains firm.
“Hey, Y/N, catch this.”
You gaze darts to the window and you frown in utmost concern over your mental state, having just hallucinated Hoseok’s voice.
“3…”
“2…”
“1…”
Maybe your physical state needs to be checked up on, too, because your body follows along to your mind’s hallucinations and makes a leap for the window as the countdown approaches its end. Just as you spring open the windows only to meet a closed window and drawn curtains from across, you hear something scratch against your window and feel its bump against the pane before disappearing into the distance somewhere far below.
Something really has been messing with you this break, you let out a distressed sigh, maybe this truly is for the better.
The rest of the night goes by just as you had planned—perfectly. Jin laughs the night away and you do, too, because if it weren’t for what you were about to do, the date truly would have been perfect. You two had your differences, but he’s evidently willing enough to persevere and you would have been, too… if everything had fallen in line a year earlier when you could have really given him your all.
Peering up, Jin catches your stare and flashes the widest grin he has in a long while. It hurt you to know you would soon be the cause of its demise, but if tonight has given him a smile this radiant, then you know it would be the best for him in the long run—maybe not for you, but for him.
“Hey, you cold?”
“No, no, I’m fine, it’s okay!” you blurt a series of no’s before reluctantly letting him drape his black leather jacket over your shoulders and failing to stifle the sigh that escapes your lips from the newfound warmth.
Jin muses, “see, you’re secretly glad I gave you my jacket, huh?”
“...yeah,” you meekly answer, the guilt plaguing your mind, “I’ll hand it back to you at the end of the night.”
“No, you can keep it,” he eagerly insists, the smile of his aching your heart all the more. “It’ll give me another excuse to see you next time.”
He doesn’t know it now, but would there even be a next time?
Buzz.
“Are you gonna check your phone or are you gonna keep staring?” Jin cackles at the way you literally jump back into reality.
“Oh, that’s my phone?” you mumble to yourself as you grab your phone out from your back pocket. “I don’t know who would be texting me—”
cheating hoe [10:33 P.M.] Y/N what the fuck did you say to hobi? he isn’t answering any of my texts or calls and he never does that.
“—ugh.”
“Who is it?” Jin quirks a quizzical brow.
“Some rat,” you spit as you angrily text away, but something in you finds the news unsettling. Did Hoseok really finally cut her off?
You [10:34 P.M.] serves you right
“Oh,” Jin frowns, “why is Jessica texting you?”
You would have answered if it weren’t for the following text glaring from your blinding phone screen, wiping the smug grin of yours off your face.
cheating hoe [10:35 P.M.] i’m asking because he invited me over to his house tonight, btw.
“God, she really knows how to get on my nerves,” you hiss under your breath, but the worry plastered across your face is evident enough for Jin to frown in concern. Did Hoseok really invite her over? After what happened that night between you and him? Did it mean anything to him or are you truly the only one looking into something that doesn’t exist? The most pressing worry for you, however, is the thought of Hoseok setting out to get his heart broken again.
Jin trudges forward, “what is it, Y/N?”
“Jessica,” you cross your arms with a puff of white leaving your lips, “she said Hoseok invited her over to his house but hasn’t been answering her texts lately.”
“How does that make any sense…?” Jin furrows his brows just as you do. “Are you sure Jessica isn’t just trying to piss you off? Maybe Hoseok has been texting her but she just needs something to start a fight over.”
“Or maybe,” you frown at Jin, “Hoseok didn’t invite her to his house?”
“It’s more likely to be the former. Didn’t you say Hoseok has an on-and-off relationship with her?” Jin retorts defensively. The flicker of hurt and betrayal that flashes through his eyes tug at your strings, even as he knowingly pursues to push your buttons right where it hurt the most. “It’s been weeks, Y/N! I thought you said you would figure yourself out. Why do I feel like all we do is argue over Hoseok?”
“I don’t know,” you grumble, looking off to the side. “Maybe you’re just insecure.”
That was too far and even you know it.
“What?” Jin nearly growls.
“I’m sorry,” you quickly mumble before peering up to meet the burning fury in his gaze. “I’m sorry, Jin. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Nonetheless, he persists, “no, let’s play with that thought. If I’m insecure, then what the hell is Hoseok? At least I have enough respect for myself. At least I don’t go running like a dog after a woman who sleeps around with other guys just to fuck with my heart—”
“—don’t fucking compare Hoseok to a dog,” you snap, raising a threatening finger at Jin to silence him. “And don’t you dare utter another word about Hoseok again.”
“Or what?” Jin scoffs.
“...or I don’t think we can work,” you hesitate to say as a knot ties in your throat, especially when you notice the softening of his eyes and the crestfallen transition between rage into a broken heart. “Actually, maybe it’s best if… if we just end this here.”
“W-what?” you hear him stammer for the first time. He steps forward, contemplating whether to take your hand in his. He does not. “Is it because of what I just said about Hoseok? I’m sorry, Y/N. I was just mad. You have to understand where I’m coming from, though.”
“I know, Jin,” you can’t stand looking at those begging eyes of his. “I shouldn’t have called you out like that, either. It doesn’t matter if I was right or wrong.”
“Then can’t we just apologize and move on Like we did before?”
“No, Jin. You deserve better. You’re right, I haven’t given you my all and I don’t think I can at this point—”
“—I’ll wait for you,” he pleas.
“Jin, stop, please,” you beg, finally lifting your gaze only to wince at the defeated look he’s giving you. “I don’t want to do this either.”
A momentary silence follows, the tension has you both on the edge of your seats.
“Can I at least walk you home…?”
That would only hurt even more—so you shake your head.
“...okay,” Jin finally says, hands clutching into a fist. “Fine.”
And that’s all you can recall from your last conversation with your boyfriend, or rather your ex, as you take the long way back home. Sighing to yourself, you cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head back to stare longingly at the blue sky bejeweled by countless balls of sparkling fire. It seems like not even the skies pity you. Your heavy breaths paint the air in clouds of white, your whispers counting each step you take forward.
One hundred sixty six...
You’ve been dreaming of this relationship with Jin for so long, so how foolish is it of you to give it up so easily? Over a dumb childhood crush who obviously sees you as nothing more?
One hundred sixty seven... one hundred sixty eight…
Not to mention, if Jessica really was telling the truth, then maybe you really are nothing more than a second choice, a last resort. The near kiss that one night must have been driven by his primitive instincts. Maybe Hoseok was right when he warned you, for he, too, must have been controlled by lust.
Drowned in your thoughts, you finally arrive at the spot where you and Jin had once stood. The paper in your pocket remains folded, nearly crumpled by the subconscious fiddling you subjected it to on the way home. Taking a deep breath and swallowing all the possible magical stardust you could muster, you stride towards the front door and knock with your last bit of courage.
It’s about time for you to wake from this dreadfully long interlude between a daydream and a nightmare.
“Y/N?” Hoseok’s father answers the door, surprised. “What’re you doing here?”
“Hi, Mr. Jung,” you do your best to smile. “Is Hoseok home?”
“He just left a minute ago,” he replies, blinking blankly in confusion. “He should be back in five minutes or so. Did you need him for something? Why don’t you come in and wait—”
“—oh, no!” you blurt a little louder than expected. Clutching the paper in your pocket, you continue, “um, I actually just wanted to return something he lent me. I need to get going right after that.”
“Oh,” he nods, probably still grasping absolutely nothing from the conversation even as he welcomes you into his house, “okay, feel free to drop by his room.”
It’s a bit cruel how our eyes play tricks on us; because even as you step foot into his room, expecting a complete shift in the world of your eyes in the territory of a world you always yearned to be a part of, you’re simply invited to a mirror of your own. Right across his windows, you could see a fragment of your room. Funny, he left his curtains drawn open tonight, as did you. The absent glow of his room accentuates the blue hues that flood his room through the windows tonight. Piled boxes clutters one side of his room next to his closet and you foolishly worry if he’s packing to move or if he has finally decided to organize his room a bit. It’s almost as if you’re in your own room, with the exception that you’re enveloped by the comforting scent of him.
Reaching into your pockets where the paper airplane lies patiently, you place your heart onto his desk, where a beam of moonlight strikes perfectly onto his desk and illuminates the three bashful words you had written and had you beet red. Quickly turning around before you could take it all back, you wander farther into his room, clearly allured by his scent which leads you to his bedside.
Oh, there’s your favorite olive green sweater of his from that one night.
You don’t realize it until you’re reaching for the sweater and a leather sleeve drapes over your hand that you notice Jin had left his jacket with you, just as he had left an imprint on you. Smiling fondly to the jacket, you remove it from over your shoulders and carefully fold it onto the bed before exchanging it for the sweater.
How would the sweater fit on you now, you wonder.
Normally, your sane mind would have convinced you to shake your head and drop the sweater right then and there; but tonight, having prepared your heart and secrets out on the floor for him to see, you figure this would be your last chance to feel his embrace again. You can barely see your reflection in his mirror, but the barely moonlit silhouette is enough for you to see the beaming smile that adorns your lips as you twirl around in his sweater that you wear oversized. His scent, his embrace, it all brings you in the comforts of home—when, out of the blue, you hear from downstairs creak open.
“Hoseok, baby,” you’re struck frozen at the shrills of her voice, “you haven’t invited me over in so long.”
So Hoseok really did invite her over, after all.
The horrified thought dawns upon you and you can see the pure look of terror in your eyes through the mirror. Here you are, prancing around in a sweater of a boy whose heart remains tied to another girl other than you. Foolish, ashamed, dejected—they all crash into one as you curse yourself for being so dumb.
How embarrassing could you be?
The gnawing of your chest remains equally prevalent even as panic settles over the thought of the two catching you red handed. Hastily, you discard yourself of the sweater, toss it over his bed, and scan the room for an escape. Closet? No, knowing Jessica, she would look through all his belongings. Hide in the boxes? No, they’re too full and there’s no way you could fit in them. Under his desk? Well, that’s just plain dumb. Window…? It really is your only option.
Opening his window as quietly as you could, you peak through to barely catch sight of Hoseok standing by his door and Jessica crossing her arms as the two conversed. You can’t exactly hear their conversation through the hammering sounds of your heart against your chest that’s just about ready to burst. Setting your sights straight, you sigh in relief at the window you had conveniently left open earlier tonight.
The distance between his window and yours has never been that far—perhaps two arms length apart at most. The two of you had always pondered the possibility of sneaking over to the other side when you were children, but neither of you were brave enough to really solidify the theory. Now, several feet taller and many years dumber, you shut your eyes and brace yourself for what could very well be the end of you. It’s either you die by sheer embarrassment or by the endless hours of lecture your parents would put you under at the hospital… you choose the latter.
Shutting your eyes, you take a deep breath in and out. The crisp, fresh night air freezes your filled lungs. Your head snaps back when you hear some footsteps approaching the stairs and your heart pumps fear intermixed with adrenaline into your bloodstream. You pace back and forth on the balls of your feet, eyeing your window sill that seems to grow in distance with each passing second.
It’s now or never.
Taking a literal leap of faith, you launch yourself into the air as your body free-falls for a split second before your hands collapse onto a cold, hard cement—and you hold on, damn it, you hold on for dear life. Miraculously, you discover you’ve survived the jump when you glimpse around your surroundings to find you half-suspended in the air. You have to hurry, you repeat to yourself throughout your heavy pants for air. Your feet quickly get to work, pedaling against the walls to finally propel you into the opening of your windows and collapsing face-first into your room.
Your body aches and every inch of you throbs in a screaming pain, but you’ve also never felt so alive. Scrambling to your chair and patting down any dirt on your clothes and disheveled hair, you feign a composure akin to any other night where he would possibly find you seated by your desk and scrolling through the interwebs. The several attempts to stifle your panting and slow your heart rate only proves to be in vain, for your eyes continue to peek over your window as they observe Hoseok carrying the brown boxes in and out of his room. Luckily for you, he must have been too preoccupied by whatever he’s doing to his dwindling number of boxes to notice your peering gaze.
Finally, the number of boxes reach a grand total of zero and you find yourself seated by your desk and window across the boy who also sits affixed to his desk right next door. His lights are on, as are yours, and you can feel the warmth that radiates in the winter night. He’s humming away and you’re scrolling away, albeit stealing a few glances here and there.
It’s almost as if time has rewound to the start of break and absolutely nothing has changed between the two of you… almost.
“Oh? I don’t remember leaving my window open,” your heart freezes when you hear Hoseok shuffling to his windowside and announcing loudly into the night. He catches your fleeting glimpse and smiles widely with a slight cock of his head, “oh? Yours is too?”
“Whaaat…?” you drawl, faking a nervous laugh as you swivel your chair to the window. Standing to your feet, you reach for your windows, “I don’t remember leaving them open, hahah. I must be getting old, y’know.”
“I must be best friends with a granny, then,” Hoseok chuckles and you freeze further in place when he beckons for you to keep your windows open. “So, how was your first Christmas date with Jin, Grandma Y/N? If your memory still serves you, that is.”
“Hey, if I’m granny,” you retort, “then you’re a grandpa, because there’s no way in hell I’m not dragging you along with me.”
“Hey,” Hoseok raises his hands, “that’s been the plan all along.”
“...you’re weird as hell,” you finally grumble after a brief second of being at a loss for words. Sighing, you lean into your hands with an elbow propped against the sill. “It was fine, I guess.”
“You guess?”
A stagnant silence follows just as an ephemeral breeze passes by.
“Well… we broke up. And before you go storming off on a hunt, I was the one who broke it off. ”
“Oh,” he utters, blinking blankly before brows creasing, “wait, what? Why? You’ve been gushing over him for all these years—”
“—yes, but,” you contemplate whether to go for it now, “it… just didn’t work out. We weren’t a great match.”
“Oh... sorry to hear that,” he prims and you just shrug. Now, it’s his turn to sigh as he leans his head against the side of his window. “Welp, I guess that makes the two of us.”
“Huh?”
“Yep,” he nods his head, intently watching your eyes pop at the news. “I called her over tonight and handed her everything she left in my room.”
Oh, so that’s what the boxes were for. Technically, Jessica wasn’t lying. She was just omitting a part of the truth.
“You know she texted me.”
“What?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Why? And I thought you would have blocked her number by now?”
“No,” you purse your lips. “I wanted to keep a record of all her blackmailing in case it ever came in handy. Guess I don’t have to anymore.”
“That’s…” he laughs to himself, “that’s definitely something you would do.”
You shrug, “she told me you called her over but ignored all of her other texts.”
“Tsk, if I knew she was bothering you, I would have scolded her one last time,” he frowns, but the downturn of his lips is overridden by the grin incited by that of your own. How could you not smile at the sound of that? “It’s been long overdue that I finally took your advice and respected myself a bit more. I guess I didn’t want to give her the time of day and wanted to get this all over with. Not gonna lie, it was pretty damn hard for me to finally let go, but when I considered how much I had to lose, it really wasn’t all that hard.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing to lose?’” you snort. “You literally had nothing to lose, Hoseok. She was shit to you.”
“No, I meant I had someone else to lose,” his cackles are like melodies to your ears.
“Someone…? Like who?”
“Mm,” he hums, gaze averting to the sky before returning to you, “just some silly friend.”
So you’re not even his second choice. You’re his third. Maybe even last.
“Wow,” you gawk, “I thought we had no secrets between us.”
“Hey, I gave you a chance today but you decided to go out on your little date with the Kim Seokjin,” Hoseok shrugs, chortling at the scowl on your face.
“Well,” you don’t manage to conceal your smile any longer, “at least you look happier than you’ve ever been in a long time. I’m sorry that you lost her, actually I’m just sorry you wasted so much time on her, but honestly, I know you’ll be a lot better from here on out.”
“Yeah? You think so?” he quirks a brow and strokes his chin, eyes blank and staring off elsewhere. As much as it pains you to admit, you know those years must have meant something to Hoseok. Jin had left his own marks on you, both bad and good, but when you really think about it, sometimes the good overshadows the bad. In Hoseok’s case, his several years long relationship must hold monumentally more weight than your brief time with Jin. “Thanks, Y/N.”
“Hm?” you have to shake your head back into reality. “Thanks for what? For dissing your ex?”
“Thanks for always being there for me,” he presses a lopsided grin, “for keeping your promise.”
Did your heart just flutter? It must have—and dangerously so. He must not have read your paper plane yet. He must not know of his impact on you. His every smile, his every word, and his every movement, you drink it all up like the helpless child you’ve always been.
“Yeah, sure,” you mutter under your breath, avoiding his watchful gaze. He smiles at you endearingly, even as your shifty eyes bashfully flicker between the stars of the galaxy and the crescent-shaped eyes of your own star. A brief, comfortable silence blows with the wind and a surge in your confidence departs just as quickly as it arrives. “About that kiss, Hoseok…”
The boy raises his brows, eyes widening at the reference—it’s the most fazed reaction you’ve ever witnessed from him. With fluttered blinks and a gaping mouth, he stiffens, “I-I actually have a—” cough “—cold. I probably shouldn’t talk much.” Cough.
“O-Oh,” the tone of your voice reflects the sudden downcast of your mood. You really are too insensitive. He had just broken up with his girlfriend and now you’re reminding him of that time he almost cheated on her for you? At this point, you’re ruining any chances you ever had with him, if it even existed. “I’m sorry. Yeah... you should rest. Talk to you later.”
Nodding, the boy quickly dips his head before disappearing behind the wall by the window sill. Well, as if the night could not get any worse, now there really is no way for him not to notice the paper plane on his desk. How is he going to respond to your message? Especially after that insensitive comment from you?
Hours seem to drag by. The silence nearly deafens you, for all you could hear is the sound of his keyboard and the crickets chirping outside along with an annoying ring in your ear. The two of you sit, walls apart but side by side, resuming your daily routines together but not exactly. Did he read your message yet? Even worse, is he choosing not to for the sake of preserving your already shattered state of mind? It isn’t until you take notice of the ticks of your manual clock that you’re reminded of the daily alarm you set up on your digital one.
11:59 P.M.
Oh, shit.
12:00 A.M.
Ring—your hand slams the clock much harder than necessary, possibly even smashing it to the point of no return. You had managed to stop it just a split second after it had rung, Hoseok couldn’t have possibly caught on with those headphones of his, could he? Hands covering your ducking head, you shut your eyes as you wait for your impending doom—possibly one of the worst decisions you’ve made, for every bit of your attention now shifts to every sound coming from across his room.
A series of paper crinkling.
A soft chuckle.
A nervous breath in and out.
A pen scribbling onto a piece of paper.
More crinkling, somewhat like paper folding.
Ouch—something sharp jabs the side of your head.
Lifting your head, you stare at the familiar paper plane that should have been lying on his desk. Your heart races, each and every one of its pump thumping against your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to move.
and what exactly is that?
Slowly, inch by inch, you unfold the rest of the paper plane under his familiar handwriting. Sheer embarrassment overtakes you when your eyes skim over your own handwriting.
you deserve me.
What reads under your words, however, has your eyes turning to meet the gaze belonging to the boy next door.
i’ve missed you
Another plane comes flying into your room.
i want to hold you
...and another
i want to hug you
...and another
i could do better than jin anyone
Biting your bottom lip, you try to suppress the incoming wave of… relief? Resolution? Euphoria? It doesn’t really matter because the second you lift your gaze to meet his, you find yourself struggling to decipher the less readable expression of his.
Sincere, soft, delicate, as if holding the whole world in his eyes, he murmurs, “is that okay?”
“Psh,” you let out a breath of disbelief, because are you sure you’re not dreaming? “I won’t believe it until you say it to my face.”
Hoseok gapes at your reply, a crooked grin spreading across his lips as he quirks a challenging brow, “oh, don’t make me come over there.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that—” your words are cut short and you gasp when you see him replicating the exact reckless antics you had pulled off just moments before “—wait, wait, Hoseok, careful—”
“—catch me if you can!” Hoseok exclaims before climbing to your window sill and jumping down into your bedroom and into your open arms. A loud thump reverberates across the bedroom, the floor vibrating underneath your feet and his. His momentum has you pacing several steps back but his arms wrapped securely around your waist just in time to whirl you around and have his back face the soft impact against the wall beside your bedroom door instead. “There,” he huffs, “just like how you did it.”
Panting and heaving for air, you breathing in him and him breathing in you, you two exchange bewildered glances all the while burning more alive than ever. A high of thrill runs through your veins as does his own that protrudes from his neck and runs along his arms from under his yellow tee. You feel yourself practically melt in his hold and intent gaze. His utter attention devoted to his girl and your every ounce of love exuding from your own eyes. Smiles stretch from ear to ear and the two of you share a fit of muffled giggles; and when he leans down in pursuit for your lips—you put a finger between his lips and yours.
“I thought you said you were sick,” you quip.
Scoffing at your remark, he retorts smugly, “I lied,” before squeezing your hips and pulling you in closer to finally latch his lips to yours.
It all perfectly makes sense. Like the last jigsaw to your puzzle, his lips fit you like a lock and a key designed and fated for one another. You pull away and he leans in, he pulls away and you lean in. He kisses you gently, softly, but with enough want and eagerness for exploration that you know he wants this—that he wants you. Maybe this isn’t the perfect first kiss that you had imagined, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t perfect because it’s undeniably perfect.
And when the two of you finally pull away from your latch onto each other, his chest heaving for air as does yours, he hastily picks you up and sets you onto your drawer with utmost ease, almost as if he’s done it a thousand times. You giggle at his hurry, as if he had no time in the world and all the time to lose, aiding him in removing the remaining articles between you and him. Raising your arms over your head, he slips his hands under your shirt and pulls it off, the grazing tips of his fingers sending tingles from both sides of your hips up to the wires of your bra.
Wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him in closer until his crotch hit yours, you laugh along with Hoseok’s chuckles. Your hands slip under his shirt, palms against his rock-hard abdomen and sliding up to his chest and around over his neck as he discards his shirt. To your surprise, you nearly yelp when he tosses his shirt at your face and you catch a whiff of his scent.
“What’re you doing?”
“You can have this shirt if you want,” he smirks at the way your cheeks burn red, “just don’t ever wear another guy’s jacket again and don’t ever leave it in my room.”
Rolling your eyes and placing a hand on his shoulder while hooking another around his neck, you roughly pull him back into you for another kiss and he groans in approval.
“Y/N!”
The both of you freeze, eyes shooting open in panic when your mother’s calls echoes from afar.
“Are you okay?”
Her footsteps shuffle across the hallway and you slap Hoseok’s chest, beckoning for him to figure something out. He chuckles at your panic—and you slap him again—before lifting you off the drawer and making his way toward your bed.
“What’re you doing?” you hiss when he plops you onto the bed and he climbs over you on all four. In a desperate attempt to stop your mom’s approach, you call out, “yeah, I’m fine!”
“You wanted me to figure something out, right?” he chortles in the midst of panting. Without warning, he latches his lips to your throat and you have to cover your mouth to stifle the lewd mewl that escapes you. Hoseok then lifts his lips to your left ear, muttering, voice raspy and dripping of desire, “I’ve been waiting for this all week. I’m not letting your parents ruin it.”
“Hoseok!” you gasp, laughing in disbelief at the crooked grin of his. “I can’t believe you right now!”
“Really?” she stops, probably right before her bedroom across the hall. “Are you sure?”
“As much as I respect her, she’s your mom,” he chortles, leaning in to finish the painting on your neck. “Figure something out.”
“Yeah, mom!” you attempt to lift yourself up to call out to her only to be pushed back down into your bed by Hoseok, inciting an amused laugh from him. Cupping his cheeks in one hand until his lips pursed and he had no choice but to pause, you give one last bidding, all while staring him down. “Don’t worry, I just slipped in the shower! Go back to sleep!”
The two of you remain utterly still—although Hoseok not really so, for you have to squeeze his cheeks several times to stop him from diving right back in—until your mother finally closes her bedroom door. You let out a breath of relief, scowling at Hoseok as he only chuckles at you; but the scowl is only temporary, because as you lie on your bed, held in between his arms and peering up at the devilish grin of his, you can’t help but relish in the surrealism of it all. Even as your hand lifts to brush a strand of his chestnut locks out from the view between his eyes and yours, you can’t believe he’s really here.
Sapphire blue shines through your windows to illuminate the left hand you had cupped over his cheeks. This smile, eager as a child and golden like your beloved best friend, it belongs to you and you only. It’s absurd, really, because you can’t help but titter at him as he drapes a blanket over his back, essentially shrouding the universe from the love he’s about to make to his girl and conceal you from the blue side, selfishly hoarding you to him.
Because tonight, this moment and this feeling, belongs to your eyes only.
-
The magical afterglow of having known you’ve made the right choice prospers throughout the entirety of the following year. No one really knew for sure you two were dating, not Jin nor your parents, but it isn’t much of a surprise when you finally give into Hoseok’s persistent urges for you to announce to the rest of the world of your newfound relationship.
“I was waiting for you to return my jacket,” Jin laughs from across the table.
“I was surprised you didn’t just ask me to,” you muse, “considering you were never one to leave things to fate.”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “But something in me knew you would figure things out with Hoseok. Didn’t want to intrude, y’know?”
“Ah,” you smile, watching him fold his jacket in his lap. “Thanks, Jin.”
Neither of you find the right words to follow through until, finally, he speaks, “what does he have that I don’t?”
“Huh?” you raise a brow at the sudden question. “It’s… it’s not really what you’re missing per se. It’s more like what Hoseok has. I just… I love his smile, I love how considerate he is, I love how attentive he is—” you pause to stop yourself from smiling as Jin merely nods “—it really isn’t your fault, Jin, please understand that. It was unfair of me to hold you tethered to me when I obviously liked someone else.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “I should have taken better care of you. I didn’t comfort you when you cried. I didn’t walk you home when I should’ve, even when you refused my offer. I should’ve… I should’ve asked you out earlier.”
You can only press a small grin, “yeah, perhaps a year earlier.”
He hesitates to ask, “...do you think it would’ve worked out if I did?”
“...probably.”
“I see,” he laughs to himself, eyes glancing to the coffee table before they land back on you. “You know you’re losing out on a great guy, right?”
“Yeah,” you laugh at his proclamation, gathering your purse and standing to your feet. Jin raises a brow at your sudden movements, turning around to follow your line of sight only to find Hoseok pacing around outside the cafe through the glass door. Jin only chortles when you make your own proclamation. “But you just aren’t the great guy for me.”
Your mother, on the other hand, faces a much more shocking revelation when she comes home to find you snuggled in his chest with his arm draped over your shoulders as the two of you hold your annual Christmas movie night in the comforts of your living room.
“Hoseok?” her eyes widen between you and him. “I-I, but, w-what about Jessica? And Y/N, what about Jin?”
“Oh,” you yelp at the nudge and baffled look Hoseok gives you, “I thought I told you last year, mom. I broke up with him already!”
Buzz. Buzz.
“You can pick that up, y’know,” you whisper after his phone rings several times.
Sighing to himself, Hoseok retracts his arms from your shoulder to check the caller phone ID before groaning in frustration. “Ugh, she just won’t leave me alone.”
“What? Who?” your mom pries.
“Hello? Hey, Jessica, I felt like I should be decent enough to at least let you know to stop calling me before blocking you,” he adds in one more remark before hanging up. “I’m happily with Y/N now.”
A snide cackle escapes your lips; whereas your mother, well, she neither collapses from shock.
But it really doesn’t matter what they do, how they react, what they say. Dozens of people have tried to keep you two apart. Jessica, Namjoon, your parents, it’s almost as if everything but the arms-length distance between your windows and his and the blue skies that loom over his side that tries to sabotage your friend, your lover; for every night when he returns home from break and every night when you return home from school, even after all the passing months, the hues remain ever the more dazzling.
Passing by your desk, you smile at the paper plane you had found lying on your desk last year after your first night with Hoseok. The dirt stains across the words scribbled onto paper still brings you back to a time when your strings tug and your heart aches.
I just want to cry with my best friend
I just want to love my best friend
“Hey, Hoseok,” you chide, opening the windows wide and returning his beaming smile with one of your own, “can I come over?”
This time, even if the whole universe were to attempt to convince you otherwise, you were sure to head on over to the blue side next door.
#bts x reader#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bts x you#hoseok smut#jhope smut#hoseok angst#hoseok fluff#jhope angst#jhope fluff#hoseok x reader#hoseok x you#jhope fanfic#hoseok fanfic#bts au#bts scenarios#bts scenario#hoseok scenario#jhope scenarios#bts fanfic#jhope x reader#jhope x you#I FINALLY FINISHED THIS YEEHAW
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SHADOW WORK - GOOD OR BAD?
Shadow work has become a hot topic in witchy circles lately. What is "shadow work" and is it something we should be doing?
WHAT IS SHADOW WORK?
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In Jungian psychology, Carl Jung theorized that the shadow (also known as id, shadow aspect, or shadow archetype) is either an unconscious aspect of the personality that the conscious ego does not identify in itself; or the entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, the shadow is the unknown side.
From one perspective, the shadow "is roughly equivalent to the whole of the Freudian unconscious;"[1] and Carl Jung himself asserted that "the result of the Freudian method of elucidation is a minute elaboration of man's shadow-side unexampled in any previous age."[2] Contrary to a Freudian definition of shadow, however, the Jungian shadow can include everything outside the light of consciousness and may be positive or negative. Because one tends to reject or remain ignorant of the least desirable aspects of one's personality, the shadow is largely negative. There are, however, believed by some, positive aspects that may also remain hidden in one's shadow (especially in people with low self-esteem, anxieties, and false beliefs).[3] "Everyone carries a shadow," Jung wrote, "and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is."[4] Jung theorized that it may be, in part, one's link to more primitive animal instincts,[5] which are superseded during early childhood by the conscious mind. According to Jung, the shadow, in being instinctive and irrational, is prone to psychological projection, in which a perceived personal inferiority is recognized as a perceived moral deficiency in someone else. Jung writes that if these projections remain hidden, "the projection making factor (the Shadow archetype) then has a free hand and can realize its object—if it has one—or bring about some other situation characteristic of its power."[6] These projections insulate and harm individuals by acting as a constantly thickening veil of illusion between the ego and the real world.
SO IS THAT TRUE?
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Despite the current popularity with the topic, Freud himself has been largely debunked by modern psychology and serious scholars and psychologists and other medical professionals do not take his work seriously. Jung has a larger following and many good theories which we do still appreciate today. But was he right about the supposed need for us to to delve into our "shadow?"
WHAT DOES THE BIBLE SAY?
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"God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all" 1 John 1:5.
"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows" James 1:17.
"Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life'" John 8:12.
"I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness" John 12:46.
"For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light" Ephesians 5:8.
"For you are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness" 1 Thessalonians 5:5.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" John 1:5.
It is a common misconception among witches, and among people in general, that light and dark are opposites, just like left and right, up and down, empty and full, yin and yang. It's a concept that was popularized with things like the movie Star Wars where the good guys use the "light" side of the force and the bad guys use the "dark" side. But the truth that Jung and most people today fail to realize is that light and dark are actually NOT scientifically opposites at all, like the other pairs. You see, darkness cannot exist in the light, but light CAN exist without darkness. They are not "opposite" sides of the same coin. And that is scientific fact. So all that stuff that you read about how you can't be a light witch and be balanced, that you must embrace your dark side, and all that, is poppycock.
There is no darkness in God, and there is no darkness in heaven. Heaven is a perfect place, without sorrow, sickness, pain, or death. A place without selfishness, lying, hatred or fear. This is our ultimate goal.
"You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid" Matthew 5:14.
SO SHOULD WE DO "SHADOW WORK"?
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I believe in and practice positive psychology (and positive and love-based parenting) in my counseling. Positive psychology's focus is on what is going right with an individual. A love based approach reacts to negative behaviors or negative occurrences in positive, kind and loving ways. I do not believe that there is benefit in going back into the darkness (revisiting traumatic experiences, shadow work, etc). We can't change the past and there is great benefit in looking forward to a positive future. The light dispels the darkness and the shadows and we should always search for the light. It is well known that there is power in thoughts and words and actions and we should always follow God's example and think and speak and act positively.
Just as there can be no healing when a person is still in an abusive or traumatic situation, there can be no healing if a person is looking backwards to or is stuck in that experience mentally and emotionally, even if they have removed themselves from the situation physically. Staying in or returning to the situation - physically, mentally and/or emotionally - results in a cessation of healing and often even a reversal of healing. In fact, this is pretty much the definition of PTSD.
We cannot find healing in the shadows and darkness. We must move into the light.
So the question was, do we need to do shadow work. My answer is NO. Fly towards the light, my witches. Let the past go. Let the darkness go. Let the light of our God of love illuminate you and heal you.
REFERENCES
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1. Anthony Stevens, "On Jung." (London 1990) p. 43
2. Jung, C. G. "The Practice of Psychotherapy." (London, 1993).
3. Young-Eisendrath, P. and T. Dawson. "The Cambridge Companion to Jung." (Cambridge University Press, 1996) p. 319.
4. Jung, C.G. "Psychology and Religion." In Psychology and Religion: West and East, (Collected Works of C.G. Jung 11, 1938) p. 131.
5. Jung, C.G. "Answer to Job." In Psychology and Religion: West and East, (Collected Works of C.G. Jung 11, 1952) p. 12.
6. Jung, C.G. "Phenomenology of the Self." In The Portable Jung, 1957) p. 147.
#male witch#christian witch#witchcraft#witches#magick#magic#christian witchcraft#witchblr#witch boy#witchery#witchythings#witchvibes#witchy things#witchy#christian magic#christowitch#christian mysticism#mystical#witches of tumblr#witch aesthetic#shadow work#gay witch#witch community
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Case Study Analysis: Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant- Motivating in Good Times and Bad
Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant is a privately-owned business that has been operating since 1948. This small supplier-based company is located in Richmond, Indiana. The company had roughly 255 employees, however it was not always the best of times. The Plant Manager was, Ron Bent and his assistant was, Joe Haley. During May 2007, the two men did not fall blindly to notice the changes occurring around them. The plant was experiencing a major decrease in sales and business, which in turn caused negative morale from the employees. Bent was forced to lay off 46 employees, leaving him with 209; however, this did not resolve the issues at hand, it only caused more outbreak. Bent had a handful of issues at hand, everything from productivity declining to poor quality products being made- something needed to be done.
Engstrom has experienced the “red” prior to this in 1998. During that time Bent implemented the Scanlon Plan, an organization-wide employee incentive program. This worked flawlessly for about seven years, until 2006 when their employees were not happy with their lack of bonuses. At this time, employees had not received a single bonus for a rough seven months, which definitely caused a lot of resentment in the workplace. Employees began looking at their job differently and started performing less. Bent was then forced to reevaluate his incentive program, in hopes to motivate what employees he had left, increase product quality and boost their sales back up. Bent’s findings were as so, “The heart of these plans is the concept of participative management. Scanlon believed that individuals will work hard to help achieve their organization’s goals so long as they have an opportunity to take responsibility for their actions and apply their skills” (Newstrom, 2016). By breaking down the pros and cons of the Scanlon Plan, Bent was able to move forward with what knowledge he know knew to create a better plan.
Organizational Issues
Throughout the lows this company was facing, there were certainly some issues that needed addressing, in order to get out of the rut. To run smoothly, a company must be supported by a strong and motivated team- Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant did not have this. The employees here felt unappreciated and disposable. There were a number of reasons why these employees felt this way, such as bonus calculations, job security, and lack of communication between management and employees. Each of these aspects truly come back to the main issue which is the organization of the company. The company was embarking on design changes with new technology, however, this in fact caused them to lose clients and slow down production. With the union changing and not being completely flexible with the ideas, everyone felt that their job was in jeopardy. Leading back to the negative morale throughout the work environment, employees began to take longer when producing for some of the important clients left.
Now, sales are down as well as morale- what is next? Bent started facing reality, he could possibly lose majority of his team due to anger, but he could also lose some of his top accounts at the Toyota Plant assembly line. In order to complete jobs done on time the organization was forced to airlift completed parts to their customers. This method ended up being very costly for the company, which just set themselves back even more.
In order for Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant to get where they need to in order to not go under, they must make some changes- starting with the employees’ satisfaction levels. As stated in the David Sirota’s and Douglas Klein’s book; “…there is only one key to profitability and stability during either a boom or bust economy: employee morale” (Kelleher 2013). Bent knows that his employees are upset over their lack of bonuses, thus the solution for improvement is to reevaluate and roll out a new incentive program and this is exactly what he did.
Root Causes
The privately-owned business, Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant in Richmond, Indiana, has faced a number of organizational and operational issues in its days. The plant was experiencing a major decrease in sales and business; thus, it was transparent that the company was facing a major crisis. It is evident that the organization’s issues revolved around a failing incentive plan, poor employee morale, slow productivity levels and a major lack of trust between employee and management. Each of these combined makes for a very unsteady foundation- which cannot lead to great success.
How did Engstrom get to the point they were at? The root causes needed to be identified in order for the company to stay afloat. One root cause that is most pivotable, is the lack of organization with the Scanlon Plan. The Scanlon Plan was the original incentive program rolled out by Bent. The program was organization-wide and only lasted about seven years, until 2006 and the employees spoke out about being unhappy with their lack of bonuses. At the time of roll-out, the Scanlon Plan was meant to artificially boost morale and happiness, but it ultimately led the company down the opposite path.
The Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant faces major productivity loss due to lack of motivation from the employees. When looking at the reason behind their lack of motivation, the root cause stems from lack of support us human beings crave in our everyday lives. In the plant’s case, the lack of focus on intrinsic motivation is apparent, which can greatly hinder an employees desire to become engaged (Froiland, 2015). As humans, we search for this feeling of acceptance and acknowledgement- we also thrive off rewards; so, without each of these key motivators you are looking at a team simply going through the motions.
Once one problem arises, they all begin to appear. In the case of Engstrom, after the discussion about lack of bonuses came about, then fellow employees believed not everyone deserved bonus checks since they were not contributing as much as the next guy. It is said that, individuals within a company will compare their contributions and what compensation they have received for that work compared to those around them (Hoffman-Miller, 2013). What that says for the plant, is that once the unfairness was presented to the team, everyone slowly began to put in less effort. The physiological state of weighing out the outputs versus the compensation or benefits is known as equity theory (Hoffman-Miller, 2013). Ultimately, the lack of trust between employees and management led to the reduced work performance, poor employee morale and lack of motivation.
At this point, Engstrom, was stuck in a difficult situation. After hearing all of the negative feedback, management decided to alter the incentive program to the liking of their team. The idea behind this was, hopefully by fixing the areas the employees disagreed with, everything could get back to normal. However, this resulted in another major organizational dilemma. The employees were indeed not happy with their current incentive program, but they were even more disappointed that management was constantly changing the formula. The adjustments led to confusion which had everyone feeling used, employees were working towards a goal that they did not even know how to reach. Thus, the Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant was in a serious bind.
Poor communication skills can kill just about anything in life and that is exactly what was happening at the plant. As mentioned, the employees were frustrated because they could not comprehend the calculations behind the Scanlon Plan, leaving them feeling hopeless. It is noticeable that the management team was too focused on communicating financial data of decreasing sales and performance levels versus explaining the ways to earn their employees more money, which is realistically all they wanted to know. The communication climate within an organization and the communication with superiors are the most important factors determining satisfaction among employees (Baird, et. al, 978). The lack of communication became a domino effect in this work environment, because the team did not understand how their incentive plan was calculated, they did not want to work and because they did not want to work business slowed down and once the management team wanted to host a meeting to explain the process- it was too late, all motivation was gone.
The Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant organizational issues are causing the company many stressors that could have been avoided with proper human behavior theories and concepts. It is apparent that the plant cannot be fixed overnight due to the severity of the issues at hand, however if management took the appropriate steps, eventually the issues will become at ease. There is a hand full of tools that human behavior research has done that can support the various issues the plant faces on a daily basis.
Starting with, motivation, I find this to be the most important area that needs improvement. the Engstrom Auto Mirror Plant saw the power of discipline and effort from their employees can do to their sales thus putting in the time to uncover what it is the employees want is crucial. When taking the time to discover, the disappointment revolved around the Scanlon Incentive Plan, which makes sense. Humans strive not only for incentives such as money, but also meaningful work that they find rewarding (Schroeder, et. al, 2015). Knowing this, I would put together methods of rewards that drive employee engagement: meaningfulness, choice, competency and progress. Each of these elements will result in a boost of positive emotions. The four intrinsic rewards also create a strong form of commitment with one’s organization (Thomas, 2009). Employees who self-manage tend to hold themselves to a higher standard. When an employee starts to feel that meaningfulness in their job, there becomes this feeling of acceptance and nourishment. In turn the company will begin to see a dramatic change in behaviors all around. The energy from the positive emotions will lead to clearer expectations and appropriate intrinsic rewards due to the new culture.
The lack of communication is the other root cause to the many issues Engstrom faces. After breaking down where and how the employees feel as though they are not understanding the expectations management has set and how they can get there, the problem area is that management does not seem to share enough or understand their team. To create a better environment with a positive communication flow, I would implement a data fluent culture. The strategic actions to create such a culture would involve creating a clear vision for how important data fluency is within the organization and how it will increase productivity and other positive factors (Schroeder et. al, 2015). Providing on-going trainings to build data knowledge, will completely set new intentions at Engstrom. This will allow managers to hold individuals accountable on a new level and ensure those meeting the necessary goals will be rewarded properly. Having the data clearly presented to the team will only result in performance levels rising and a decrease in discrepancy in bonus amounts among the team. Once these actions are met, I can foresee success rates moving up, all contributing to better communication, job satisfaction and motivation.
References
Baird, J. E., & Bradley, P. H. (1978). COMMUNICATION CORRELATES OF EMPLOYEE
MORALE. Journal Of Business Communication, 15(3), 47–56
Froiland, J. M. (2015). Employee Engagement. Research Starters: Business.
Hoffman-Miller, P. M. (2013). Equity theory. Salem Press Encyclopedia
Intrinsic Motivation at Work, 2nd Edition by Kenneth W. Thomas Published by Berrett-
Koehler Publishers, 2009
Schroeder, J., & Fishbach, A. (2015). How to motivate yourself and others? Intended and
unintended consequences. Research In Organizational Behavior, 35123–141.
Thomas W. Kenneth (2009). Intrinsic Motivation at Work, 2nd Edition Berrett-Koehler
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3 May. Bistritz. Left Munich at 8:35 P.M, on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible.
The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem. get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians.
I found my smattering of German very useful here, indeed, I don't know how I should be able to get on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country.
I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia, and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.
I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordance Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it.
I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then.
I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was "mamaliga", and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call "impletata". (Mem.,get recipe for this also.)
I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move.
It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject ot great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear.
At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque.
The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them.
The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country.
I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?"
"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker."
She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door.
He went, but immediately returned with a letter:
"My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.--Your friend, Dracula."
4 May--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German.
This could not be true,because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did.
He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter,and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all,simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting.
Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at all. I was just able to follow her by asking many questions. When I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again:
"Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of May. She shook her head as she said again:
"Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?"
On my saying that I did not understand, she went on:
"It is the eve of St. George's Day. Do you not know that to-night, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effect. Finally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before starting.
It was all very ridiculous but I did not feel comfortable. However, there was business to be done, and I could allow nothing to interfere with it.
I tried to raise her up, and said, as gravely as I could, that I thanked her, but my duty was imperative, and that I must go.
She then rose and dried her eyes, and taking a crucifix from her neck offered it to me.
I did not know what to do, for, as an English Churchman, I have been taught to regard such things as in some measure idolatrous, and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady meaning so well and in such a state of mind.
She saw, I suppose, the doubt in my face, for she put the rosary round my neck and said, "For your mother's sake," and went out of the room.
I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I am waiting for the coach, which is, of course, late; and the crucifix is still round my neck.
Whether it is the old lady's fear, or the many ghostly traditions of this place, or the crucifix itself, I do not know, but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as usual.
If this book should ever reach Mina before I do, let it bring my good-bye. Here comes the coach!
5 May. The Castle.--The gray of the morning has passed, and the sun is high over the distant horizon, which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not, for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed.
I am not sleepy, and, as I am not to be called till I awake, naturally I write till sleep comes.
There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.
I dined on what they called "robber steak"--bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks, and roasted over the fire, in simple style of the London cat's meat!
The wine was Golden Mediasch, which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.
I had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.
When I got on the coach, the driver had not taken his seat, and I saw him talking to the landlady.
They were evidently talking of me, for every now and then they looked at me, and some of the people who were sitting on the bench outside the door--came and listened, and then looked at me, most of them pityingly. I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd,so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out.
I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"--Satan, "Pokol"--hell, "stregoica"--witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"--both mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either werewolf or vampire. (Mem.,I must ask the Count about these superstitions.)
When we started, the crowd round the inn door, which had by this time swelled to a considerable size, all made the sign of the cross and pointed two fingers towards me.
With some difficulty, I got a fellow passenger to tell me what they meant. He would not answer at first, but on learning that I was English, he explained that it was a charm or guard against the evil eye.
This was not very pleasant for me, just starting for an unknown place to meet an unknown man. But everyone seemed so kind-hearted, and so sorrowful, and so sympathetic that I could not but be touched.
I shall never forget the last glimpse which I had of the inn yard and its crowd of picturesque figures,all crossing themselves, as they stood round the wide archway, with its background of rich foliage of oleander and orange trees in green tubs clustered in the centre of the yard.
Then our driver, whose wide linen drawers covered the whole front of the boxseat,--"gotza" they call them--cracked his big whip over his four small horses, which ran abreast, and we set off on our journey.
I soon lost sight and recollection of ghostly fears in the beauty of the scene as we drove along, although had I known the language, or rather languages, which my fellow passengers were speaking, I might not have been able to throw them off so easily. Before us lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees or with farmhouses, the blank gable end to the road. There was everywhere a bewildering mass of fruit blossom--apple, plum, pear, cherry. And as we drove by I could see the green grass under the trees spangled with the fallen petals. In and out amongst these green hills of what they call here the "Mittel Land" ran the road, losing itself as it swept round the grassy curve, or was shut out by the straggling ends of pine woods, which here and there ran down the hillsides like tongues of flame. The road was rugged, but still we seemed to fly over it with a feverish haste. I could not understand then what the haste meant, but the driver was evidently bent on losing no time in reaching Borgo Prund. I was told that this road is in summertime excellent, but that it had not yet been put in order after the winter snows. In this respect it is different from the general run of roads in the Carpathians, for it is an old tradition that they are not to be kept in too good order. Of old the Hospadars would not repair them, lest the Turk should think that they were preparing to bring in foreign troops, and so hasten the war which was always really at loading point.
Beyond the green swelling hills of the Mittel Land rose mighty slopes of forest up to the lofty steeps of the Carpathians themselves. Right and left of us they towered, with the afternoon sun falling full upon them and bringing out all the glorious colours of this beautiful range, deep blue and purple in the shadows of the peaks,green and brown where grass and rock mingled, and an endless perspective of jagged rock and pointed crags, till these were themselves lost in the distance, where the snowy peaks rose grandly. Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water. One of my companions touched my arm as we swept round the base of a hill and opened up the lofty, snow-covered peak of a mountain,which seemed, as we wound on our serpentine way, to be right before us.
"Look! Isten szek!"--"God's seat!"--and he crossed himself reverently.
As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. This was emphasized by the fact that the snowy mountain-top still held the sunset, and seemed to glow out with a delicate cool pink. Here and there we passed Cszeks and slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully prevalent. By the roadside were many crosses, and as we swept by, my companions all crossed themselves. Here and there was a peasant man or woman kneeling before a shrine, who did not even turn round as we approached, but seemed in the self-surrender of devotion to have neither eyes nor ears for the outer world. There were many things new to me. For instance, hay-ricks in the trees, and here and there very beautiful masses of weeping birch, their white stems shining like silver through the delicate green of the leaves.
Now and again we passed a leiter-wagon--the ordinary peasants's cart--with its long, snakelike vertebra, calculated to suit the inequalities of the road. On this were sure to be seated quite a group of homecoming peasants, the Cszeks with their white, and the Slovaks with their coloured sheepskins, the latter carrying lance-fashion their long staves, with axe at end. As the evening fell it began to get very cold, and the growing twilight seemed to merge into one dark mistiness the gloom of the trees, oak, beech, and pine, though in the valleys which ran deep between the spurs of the hills, as we ascended through the Pass, the dark firs stood out here and there against the background of late-lying snow. Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. Sometimes the hills were so steep that, despite our driver's haste, the horses could only go slowly. I wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver would not hear of it. "No, no," he said. "You must not walk here. The dogs are too fierce." And then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest--"And you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause to light his lamps.
When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of patch of grey light ahead of us,as though there were a cleft in the hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater. The crazy coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level, and we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us. We were entering on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take no denial. These were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing, and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had seen outside the hotel at Bistritz-- the sign of the cross and the guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned forward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation. This state of excitement kept on for some little time. And at last we saw before us the Pass opening out on the eastern side. There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one. I was now myself looking out for the conveyance which was to take me to the Count. Each moment I expected to see the glare of lamps through the blackness,but all was dark. The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. We could see now the sandy road lying white before us, but there was on it no sign of a vehicle. The passengers drew back with a sigh of gladness, which seemed to mock my own disappointment. I was already thinking what I had best do, when the driver, looking at his watch, said to the others something which I could hardly hear, it was spoken so quietly and in so low a tone, I thought it was "An hour less than the time." Then turning to me, he spoke in German worse than my own.
"There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to Bukovina, and return tomorrow or the next day, better the next day." Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up.Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a caleche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach. I could see from the flash of our lamps as the rays fell on them, that the horses were coal-black and splendid animals. They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes,which seemed red in the lamplight, as he turned to us.
He said to the driver, "You are early tonight, my friend."
The man stammered in reply, "The English Herr was in a hurry."
To which the stranger replied, "That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend. I know too much, and my horses are swift."
As he spoke he smiled,and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger's "Lenore".
"Denn die Todten reiten Schnell." ("For the dead travel fast.")
The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile. The passenger turned his face away, at the same time putting out his two fingers and crossing himself. "Give me the Herr's luggage," said the driver, and with exceeding alacrity my bags were handed out and put in the caleche. Then I descended from the side of the coach, as the caleche was close alongside, the driver helping me with a hand which caught my arm in a grip of steel. His strength must have been prodigious.
Without a word he shook his reins, the horses turned, and we swept into the darkness of the pass. As I looked back I saw the steam from the horses of the coach by the light of the lamps,and projected against it the figures of my late companions crossing themselves. Then the driver cracked his whip and called to his horses, and off they swept on their way to Bukovina. As they sank into the darkness I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling come over me. But a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees, and the driver said in excellent German--
"The night is chill, mein Herr, and my master the Count bade me take all care of you. There is a flask of slivovitz (the plum brandy of the country) underneath the seat, if you should require it."
I did not take any, but it was a comfort to know it was there all the same. I felt a little strangely, and not a little frightened. I think had there been any alternative I should have taken it, instead of prosecuting that unknown night journey. The carriage went at a hard pace straight along, then we made a complete turn and went along another straight road. It seemed to me that we were simply going over and over the same ground again, and so I took note of some salient point, and found that this was so. I would have liked to have asked the driver what this all meant, but I really feared to do so, for I thought that, placed as I was, any protest would have had no effect in case there had been an intention to delay.
By-and-by, however, as I was curious to know how time was passing, I struck a match, and by its flame looked at my watch. It was within a few minutes of midnight. This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.
Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.
At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling, that of wolves, which affected both the horses and myself in the same way. For I was minded to jump from the caleche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before them.
He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This time, after going to the far side or the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right.
Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel. And again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed. He kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness.
Suddenly, away on our left I saw a fain flickering blue flame. The driver saw it at the same moment. He at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer. But while I wondered, the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch the driver's motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame arose, it must have been very faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all, and gathering a few stones, formed them into some device.
Once there appeared a strange optical effect. When he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.This startled me, but as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, as though they were following in a moving circle.
At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright.I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. But just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear.It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.
All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them.The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see.But the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side, and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach, I shouted and beat the side of the caleche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from the side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness.
When I could see again the driver was climbing into the caleche, and the wolves disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon.
We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the main always ascending.Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light,and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky.
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Panic
Summary: Two little texts send your heart into a frenzy, and when the super soldier responsible for them doesn't reply, you just hope he’s still alive for him to hear exactly what you think of him.
A/N: Hi hi!!! here’s a one shot for you guys!! I haven't posted one of these in a while so I truly hope you enjoy it! when I saw the texts online I knew I just had to write a fic around them for our favorite brunette super soldier lol. Thanks so much for reading!!
Link are being rude so if you’d like to read more of my stories search “stories by notimetoblog”
You know panic.
A failed parachute? You’ve experienced it and survived it. You thought that panic was enough to fill a lifetime. What could bring on more panic than freefalling from thousands of feet in the air with no means to break your fall?
Surely nothing.
Well, that’s what you had believed until you, again, lived and survived a mission gone wrong. Stupidly, you’d admit, you had turned off your comms to focus on the task at hand. Of course, this meant you missed all five of Steve’s attempts to warn you of previously unnoticed threats. To your defense, Steve really should do less talking over those things. Sure, he was lovely but having him in your ear for hours at a time was enough to drive anybody to the extreme.
The panic you experienced that time drew your blood cold. The unnoticed threats were pretty easily spotted when they were pointing guns at your face, each of the four men staring back at you more than ready to end you. Your instincts took over after that and the next thing you knew, you were being walked into the Quinjet a more than upset Steve again filling your ear with endless strings of words you just couldn’t and didn’t want to make out.
That panic you knew how to deal with. You knew once safe you could sit back, relax, and unwind.
But this current panic was beyond you.
You hold your phone in your cold hands, staring at the messages on the home screen.
Your ringer went off every night because if anybody enjoyed sleep, it was you. But that meant that you would wake up to voicemails, missed calls, and texts that were just waiting for you to get your day started. Nothing of importance was ever sent to your phone anyway. If there was an emergency, Steve had other ways to communicate them to you, and you knew he very much enjoyed getting to ring the alarms he had set up throughout your apartment. It was his form of payback for all the little things you did to him throughout the day.
This morning, though, you had not woken up to your usual texts, but to only two texts that were enough to make you want to scream.
Buck: I need advice (3:46 am)
Buck: never mind i already did the stupid thing (6:51 am)
For almost two hours Bucky had thought about doing something so incredibly stupid even he felt the need to call it that.
He often prided himself in his genius ideas, and sure, at times they had gotten you out of trouble. More often than not, though, those ideas resorted to more unorthodox methods than your basic training had provided you with. Still, no matter how stupid those ideas were, he always called them his ‘genius hacks.’
That time he had literally shot himself in the foot to create a distraction? Genius hack!
The time he threw Sam out of a window to get his wings working again? Genius hack!
So, Bucky accepting his idea was stupid meant this was bad.
This was so bad.
Your fingers press his name on your phone; normally you would chuckle at the picture of Bucky attached to his info, but not today.
It was past 8 am, by this time he could be on his way to another country. He could be hurt. He could be dead.
A ring, and then five more, and no response.
“My god,” you say, jumping out of your bed throwing on whatever clothes you find laying around.
You’re a mess, a complete and total mess, and it only gets worse after every time Bucky doesn’t answer your call.
You: Bucky I swear if you’re dead ill find some way to kill you again! And if you’re not… pick up THE PHONE!!!!!
You had a soft spot for him; everyone was aware. Something in you both just seemed to click, but that did not mean you wouldn’t let him have it when he did something reckless.
He would simply lay on the charm in response, using those stupid big blue eyes of his to melt away your frustration.
“You’re cute when you get all worked up,” he’d say, a smile on his lips that made your heart beat just a little bit faster. The jerk knew very well how to get his way.
He was an idiot, but one that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.
But not right now. Oh no. Right now, he was just the biggest idiot on the planet for disappearing like this.
You call again, crossing your fingers he would pick up, but no luck.
“He better be dead,” you find yourself saying while you rummage through the bag you had thrown on your couch after getting home late last night to find your house keys.
“I don’t think you mean that,” a very much alive Bucky says as you open the door to your apartment.
“You think this is funny?” you ask, letting him hear every bit of the worry that was consuming you only seconds ago.
“Just a little,” he replies, scrunching his nose, something you’d typically find adorable. But not today. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry,” he amends, feeling your door closing right in front of his face, choosing to stuff his left arm to stop you from closing it all the way. “I should’ve answered your calls, but in my defense, I was a little busy doing something else.”
“What? The stupid thing you needed advice on. You’re on your own if you did something to Sam’s wings.”
“I could tell you a bit more about what I did, darling, if you’d let me in.”
“Don’t even try the whole ‘darling’ thing right now Barnes,” you scold him, “because it won’t work. You can’t just disappear like that.”
“I know,” his voice is soft, and you hate him for it. “But I can explain everything I promise. And I was only ‘missing’ for like 4 hours, most of which you were asleep for, so come on, sweetheart, let me in.”
You pierce your eyes at the pet name, making him chuckle.
“I said sweetheart, not darling,” he winks.
“It better be good, Barnes,” you reply with a groan, opening the door up for him all the way.
With a smile, he walks into your apartment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t take him walking past you as an opportunity to scan him for injuries.
Your eyes rake past his back, down to his legs, looking for any sign of pain. Just looking out for anything you might need to patch up or any limping, of course, nothing more. But its harder to tell if he’s got any blood on him or anything else you should worry about.
He’s wearing a black t-shirt, dark jacket, and black denim jeans. If there’s anything on them, you can’t tell in his all-black outfit.
“I shouldn’t have called what I was thinking about stupid, really,” he began, causing your gaze to come back up to his face as he turns to look at you. “Because it’s not.”
“Another one of your genius hacks, huh,” you cross your arms wondering why you had even let yourself get so worked up from two little texts.
The answer was rather obvious, but still, it was better not to address it at the moment. It was better not to mess with a friendship that somehow managed to work despite both of your reckless attitudes.
“Not really,” he says, sitting down on the couch, hugging one of your throw pillows, a big fluffy white one. He would regret that later when he discovered how much it shed onto his dark jacket. But you’d take that as a tiny victory over him after the scare he gave you. “Had nothing to do with the job at all.”
“Then do enlighten me, Barnes,” you give him an eye roll, not ready to hear about whatever mess he had gotten himself into.
“Just call me Bucky, doll,” he says with a tiny pout, his eyes going wide- those stupid big blue eyes. “It means your mad at me when you call me Barnes, and if I’m honest, I don’t like the feeling.”
“I kinda am.”
“More relieved than mad, though, right? Cause I’m still alive.”
“Won’t be alive for much longer if you don’t talk.”
“Fine,” he laughs, and you curse yourself for finding it endearing, but it’s always lovely to hear him laugh. “It’s not something stupid, might be the smartest decision I’ve made in my life.”
“Oh my god,” you say in disbelief throwing another one of your pillows at him. “You jerk! What did you do to Sam?!”
“I didn’t do anything to him,” he says in between more laughs as he dodges everything you throw his way. “You need to stop that.”
In an instant, he’s up and has you backed up onto the door, hands pressed against your side.
“Sam is fine,” he says softly, now that he’s so close to you. “Probably still drooling.”
“Then what’d you do?”
“Well, I haven’t done it yet. That’s why I came here for.”
There was something new in his eyes. It was as if a new shade of blue swam in them, a shade that had never been seen before.
What on earth was he doing?
“You can let go of my hands now, Buck,” you say, trying your best to distract yourself from how close he was.
“Won't throw more pillows at me?”
“I ran out.”
“Breaks my heart that’s the only reason you won't throw them at me,” he chuckles, releasing his hold on your hands, partially, because for some reason he chooses to lace his fingers with yours.
And something in you screams because this may or may not be a dream you had a few nights ago- a dream you had pushed deep down, hoping it would never come back up again. And yet here it was.
“What’d you do?” you ask him again, hoping speaking through what you were feeling would be better than being drowned by it.
“I bought something,” he replies, his signature boyish grin on his lips but this time there’s something new; a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “For you.”
“Really?” you pretend that those words did not just travel to your core and erupted into thousands of butterflies.
“See, it wasn’t stupid, really. It was a mistake to call it that, but I did need some advice because I’m not the best at this whole thing.”
“What thing?” you question, not missing how comfortable his hands feel around yours; how meant to be.
“Us.”
And there it was, the moment that had only been real in daydreams, the moment you absolutely knew would melt your heart.
“I bought you flowers,” he continues, letting his thumb drag slowly across the back of your hand. “They’re outside. I kinda panicked when you opened the door.”
“Flowers,” you hear yourself say, disbelief clear.
“I ran across the entire city, finding a place that opened early enough for me to get them as soon as possible. I ran into a shop owner around 6:30, she was only there that early to drop a few things, but I begged her to let me get something, anything. She must’ve felt bad because she let me inside.”
“You’ve been looking for flowers since 4 am?”
“I guess that part was stupid,” he laughs. “But I couldn’t wait! And I really started looking for places at 5.” There’s a tiny pause, and his face goes completely blank. “You like flowers, right?”
It’s really hard not to reach out and bring him closer when he’s looking like a lost little puppy, but you hold yourself back, enjoying the way his eyes have gone soft.
“I do,” you confirm, melting at the way his smile shines like a million stars.
Goodness, he was cute.
“And me? Do you like me?”
“Sometimes,” you fib, giggling when he pouts.
“Cause I like you a lot.”
Were you ever really mad at him, you wonder, because who on earth could ever be mad at the man in front of you? With those big blue beautiful eyes, that charming smile, and that soft touch.
“You do?” you tease, voice low and silky as you feel him getting closer and closer to you.
“So much, darling. There isn't anyone else who I like as much as you, to be honest. You’re the only one that makes me want to buy flowers at 5 am,” he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nobody else I’d rather hold hands with,” a kiss to your cheek. “Nobody else I’d rather spend time with. I’m entirely yours, what can I say?”
And then it happens, his soft lips finally press onto yours, slowly parting them to deepen the kiss. His hands leave yours only to wrap his arms around your waist, and it’s as if you’ve done this before. Your hands find themselves running up along his arms to his shoulders, finally getting lost in his hair, following a trail that you somehow already know.
“Be my best girl?” he asks in a husky voice, eyes opening slowly, and your lips long to be on his again.
“Yes,” you say in a hushed tone, just for him.
He loosens his hold on you, and the look on his face is any indicator it pains him just as much as it hurts you.
“I should get your flowers,” he says, timidly looking behind you at the door. “I think I chose well.”
He steps outside only to come back a few seconds, no longer as proud of his choice as he had been.
The roses in his hands are barely holding it together, with only a few of the stems still holding up flowers. Those that still remain are all missing most of their petals.
“I thought they looked better,” he confesses, frowning when he looks at the bouquet again. “Guess they took a little beating while I worked up the courage to come here.”
“They’re perfect,” you say, taking them from his hands and bringing them close to your chest.
And they were. They were from him, from the man who had just confessed his feelings for you. The man that drove you equally crazy with worry and with love.
He was yours, and you were his.
That’s all that mattered.
The stupid things you both got yourself into were more fun together anyway.
“I love them,” you laugh. “They’re perfect.”
The morning had started with panic, but this right here, that peace you felt when he held you close, that was worth it all.
----
Bucky Tags :D (you guys are awesome!!)
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Justification by Faith (Part 1)
I’m currently studying what the Bible teaches about meeting God’s standard of judgment through faith and this is part #1 of my Bible study notes for this topic.
According to God’s standard of judgment how many can be justified?
In the following passages, the writer is telling us that no man living can be justified. To be justified, or to stand in the sight of God, essentially mean the same thing.
“And enter not into judgment with thy servant: for in thy sight shall no man living be justified." Psa 143:2.
“If thou, LORD, shouldest mark iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?” Psa 130:3
But, What exactly is justification?
Webster's definition of the word “justify” is - "To prove or show to be just, or conformable to law, right, justice, propriety, or duty; to defend or maintain; to vindicate as right; to warrant." "To pronounce free from guilt or blame; to absolve; to clear."
So how exactly can we be pronounced free from the guilt of sin?
Isaiah tells us that by the knowledge of Jesus, whose goal is to bear our iniquities, is to justify many.
"By his knowledge shall My righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities." Isa 53:11.
As I read this verse, the word "many" stood out to me, so I looked into it a little deeper and found the following verses all referring to Jesus' position as the head of the family of God:
many H7227
The pictograph is a picture of a head and a picture of the tent representing the family. Combined these mean "head of the family". Each family has a master that rules all cases, trials, conflicts, and contests. This person was the representative for the whole tribe, one abundant in authority and wisdom. (see Exodus 18:25).
His righteous servant, Jesus, is the head of the family. (Ephesians 5:23, Colossians 1:18, Christ, the head of the church, Chief. Col 2:10, Christ, the head of all principality and power.)
“Ye call me Master and Lord: and ye say well; for so I am.” John 13:13.
“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God, being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.” Romans 3:23-24.
What’s “grace” G5485?
Favor with God. Read Luke 1:30, Acts 7:46 for examples.
“And now, brethren, I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are sanctified.” Acts 20:32.
Why can't we be justified by the deeds of the law?
We find an explanation to this question in Romans chapter 3. Essentially, anyone who tries to justify themselves by the deeds of the law is a legalist.
“For by the law is the knowledge of sin.” Romans 3:20.
Read Romans 3:20-28 for context.
The doctrine of justification by faith in Christ: “Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin. But now the righteousness of God without the law is manifested, being witnessed by the law and the prophets; Even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe: for there is no difference: For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God; Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus: Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God; To declare, I say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the justifier of him which believeth in Jesus. Where is boasting then? It is excluded. By what law? of works? Nay: but by the law of faith. Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law.” Romans 3:20-28.
What's the law of faith?
What is the law? Doctrine. The unalterable precepts of Jehovah's decalogue, which are as immutable as Jah’s throne.
To the Law and to the Testimony: It has ever been the effort of the enemy of righteousness to lead men to disregard the claims of the law of Jehovah. And through his prophets, God has ever sought to bring men to a realization of the binding claims of his eternal and unchangeable law. Of his ancient people, it is written: “The Lord testified against Israel, and against Judah, by all the prophets, and by all the seers, saying, turn ye from your evil ways, and keep My commandments and My statutes, according to all the law which I commanded your fathers, and which I sent to you by My servants the prophets.” 2 Kings 17:13. In this our day, when there is manifest a widespread tendency to throw away the restraint of God's law, Mrs. White has firmly and fearlessly endeavored to bring to the consciences of men the sacredness of the divine requirements. The immutability of that law, and the vital necessity of obedience, through the power of Christ, to its every requirement, including the fourth commandment, has been constantly urged in her public work. Of the relation of the law to the gospel, she has written: “In the life of Christ the principles of the law are made plain; and as the Holy Spirit of God touches the heart; as the light of Christ reveals to men their need of his cleansing blood and his justifying righteousness, the law is still an agent in bringing us to Christ, that we may be justified by faith. ‘perfect, converting the soul.’ “‘Till heaven and earth pass,’ said Jesus, ‘one jot or one tittle shall in nowise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.’ The sun shining in the heavens, the solid earth upon which you dwell, are God's witnesses that his law is changeless and eternal. Though they may pass away, the divine precepts shall endure. ‘It is easier for heaven and earth to pass, than one tittle of the law to fail.’ The system of types that pointed to Jesus as the Lamb of God was to be abolished at His death; but the precepts of the decalogue are as immutable as the throne of God.”—Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, 308.
Comprises of the following:
“The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of the LORD are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward.” Psalms 19:7-11.
Testimony:
1 John 5:9-12, the record that God gave of His Son.
Revelation 19:10, The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.
John 5:39, “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.”
Acts 10:43, “To him give all the prophets witness, that through his name whosoever believeth in him shall receive remission of sins.”
Statutes, Commandment:
Deuteronomy 4:5-6, Ezekiel 36:27, “The words of the LORD are pure words: as silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven times.” Psalms 12:6.
Fear, Judgments:
Psalms 119:128; Nehemiah 9:13; Isaiah 11:1-5; Proverbs 9:10; Proverbs 15:33; Proverbs 16:6, by the fear of the LORD men depart from evil.; Job 28:28,“…Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.”
The purpose of the law is to show us our sin that we may, through faith in Jesus Christ, be converted.
#bible study#scripture#bible reading#comprehensive#holiness#christian living#jesus christ#christian blog
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