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eilidh-eternal · 2 months

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You don't like silence

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

The house is silent, but inside your head a brumous storm swirls, wispy tendrils of fog curling around delicate gray matter.

Your routine—watching Johnny walk Isobel to school, going to work and coming home, just in time to glimpse Johnny leaving to retrieve her—has changed.

You still watch from the window, mug bleeding warmth into cold, stiff joints from between your palms. Peer around the curtains every morning as the pair amble down the pavement together.

A new month brings a steady influx of meetings and end of quarter reporting, projected sales and last minute production tweaks, but your days are no busier than normal. Rarely miss a lunch break. Leave no later than three each afternoon.

Dinner, if you have any, is ready by five.

Even so, restlessness lingers in the midnight moons hanging beneath your eyes, darkens the air around you with somnolent clouds, and you list in the torpid deluge that rains down.

Sleep evades you altogether most nights, and you’ve made a game of picking out patterns in the knockdown. Faces, animals; nebulous, nameless things.

Some nights, when the faces of strangers, burned into your retinas, find their way into the patterns of textured drywall, you listen.

Isobels room must be on the other side of yours, beds sharing a wall. On the nights you manage to make it upstairs, you can hear them both. Isobel’s slow and measured pronunciations. The lilt of Johnny’s voice, filling in the blanks where she pauses on a word she doesn’t yet know.

They’ve finished all of her animal books, which means the imitated roars of big cats and bleats of farmyard animals have morphed into exaggerated accents. Sing-song rhymes about the importance of kindness, accepting differences, and other life lessons told through colorful illustrations and whimsical narratives.

Every now and then, if you’re lucky, she falls asleep within a few pages, and you can pretend that the low, pillowy rumble of Johnny reading is just for you. A gentle coaxing made of velvety words, swaddling your mind, heavy with exhaustion, and cradling it to his chest against the maelstrom you’re spiraling in.

Sometimes she stirs, woken hours later in the placid, milky hours before dawn, just as your eyes begin to droop. Tiny feet patter across the hardwood like rain, muffled in uneven intervals by what must be a rug or runner in the hall, on her way to Johnny’s room or the washroom maybe.

You wonder if it’s full of frilly, feminine things, her room. Pinks and purples, dolls and plushies. Does she have princesses or ballerinas on her bedding? Do posters and drawings line her walls or does floral, pasted wallpaper?

She likes Mulan, you remember. A warrior. Fighter. Soldier. Like Johnny.

Probably not so frilly, then.

Perhaps they could make a fighter out of you. Press you into the mold of their little family–strengthened by loss and galvanized with love–and breathe life into clay limbs. Carve a soldier from the malleable earth. Shape you into something useful.

Now, most of your nights are spent huddled in the living room, listening to the droning of the television. Throw blankets suck you down into the sofa like quicksand and each breath draws them tighter and tighter around you, filling pockets of air with crushed velvet and fleece. Tonight, you let them swallow you whole. Sink willingly into a latibule of plaid and warm cashmere.

The cold and quiet of your empty home isn’t so bad when you can hear Johnny moving about on the other side of the wall. Isn’t so unbearable when the warm timbre of his voice chases away the numbing fog that muddles your head.

There are nights that he calls you, like he knows. Knows that you're drowning in the silence.

He does that now, after he puts Isobel to bed for the night. Calls to ask about your week. Casts a lifeline into the churning ocean between you, procellous waves lofting you on spuming peaks, and calls your name from the battered, broken shore.

A lighthouse calling to a ship, lost in the mist on a perilous sea.

Last Thursday he asked about the cookies you made with Isobel. Asked if you would be willing to share the recipe with him–teach him–so that he could make them with her for a school event coming up in the spring.

The tenderness with which he speaks of her is a balmy breeze for your gelid heart. Soothes the burn of ice floes in your veins. Melts weeks of tension from aching muscles.

Now, his voice is somber, pensive, as it filters through the lack of insulation between you. “Friday. No, ah havnae told ‘er yet. Jus’ got the call.” He pauses, and you think you hear a muffled sigh. He sounds tired, too, accent thicker than honeyed whiskey rolling off his tongue, dropping consonants in favor of deep, throaty vowels. “Aye, ah ken. She’ll be happy tae see ye though.”

He’s on the phone, talking about Isobel. They must have family visiting soon, or a family friend if Isobel knows them well enough to be excited.

You wonder what the MacTavish family is like, if they’re a rowdy bunch. If they’re a large, extended family. Johnny seems like the kind of man who comes from a close knit community, one where you grow up down the street from your cousins and spend summers terrorizing small towns together.

“I’ll talk tae ‘er in the mornin’. Ah- No.” There’s a pause again, and even with layers of sheetrock separating you, you can feel the weight of his silence. “No, Mam. She’s… ah worry. Leavin’ ‘er like this. Piss poor timin’.”

He’s leaving? Without Isobel?

It’s muffled through the wall, and you feel like you can’t have heard that correctly. He mentioned the army, but you had thought, with a child at home, that his work wouldn't be the sort that requires travel.

Ice floes turn to glaciers in your chest, frozen spikes threatening to pierce brittle, fragile muscle, and the clouds swirling overhead descend upon you.

Lost in the mist, and he’s leaving.

He’s leaving, and he’s taking the sun with him.

“Ye cannae keep it from the lassie forever, John. Ye havnae even told 'er what ye do?”

Christ, this woman…

“She knows ‘bout the army,” he defends. “Cannae say much more.”

Fenella MacTavish clucks her disapproval. “Ye’re heids full of mince.” Dishes clatter and a cupboard closes a bit too forcefully on the other end of the line.

Johnny runs a hand through the disheveled strands of his hair, overdue for a trim, well outside of regulation length. “Mam—”

“Dinnae ‘Mam’ me,” she cuts in. “John Alexander MacTavish, ye tell that lass what she’s gettin’ herself intae—or I will.”

“Mam,” he tries again, voice pitched low, “Not yet. Cannae send ‘er off, naw like I do wi’ Bell. It’s safe enough here.” You’re safe with him here. “Dinnae like knowin’ she’s alone—Christ, I can hardly stand tae have the wall between us when I ken she’s hurtin’—but there isnae anythin’ I can do that’s naw already been done. Kate’s made sure of that.”

Fenella huffs and he can’t quite make out the garbled muttering on his end, but he has a fair idea of what his mother is blathering about beneath her breath. “Kirsten—have ye gone tae see 'er?” she finally asks, mercifully shifting the conversation out of your direction. “Has Isobel?”

“No,” he admits, and guilt twists in barbed coils through his chest.

He’s been meaning to, to drive up for the weekend and take her to visit her mothers grave, now that she’s older. Stay with her gran and look through the old albums. She's only ever seen the few photos they have at home, hanging in the hall near the kitchen.

Sometimes she asks about her. If she liked the things she likes. The way rain freezes on the tall grasses and tree branches in the winter, making glass gardens of trellises and window boxes. Extra whipped cream and blueberries for her pancakes.

If she would have walked with them to school in the mornings. Take her to the park down the block in the summer. Hiking in the fall, looking for wisps darting about beneath the fallen abscission.

Isobel is so much like her mother there are days Johnny swears it’s her refusing to eat the dinner he’s made. That it’s her complaining about cold weather and overcast skies in the heart of winter, bemoaning how long they have until spring revives the land. Swears it’s her voice that wakes him in the middle of the night. Her ghost, standing in the dimly lit doorway of his bedroom, a blanket pulled ‘round her shoulders and a teddy dangling from her hand.

“I’ll take ‘er, then.” Johnny can hear the grief that tempers his mothers voice, turning anguish to steely resolve. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening, let ‘er have a few hours with ye at home before ye say yer goodbyes.”

“Thank ye, Mam,” he says on a strained exhale, lungs rattling with fragments of his own grief. It slices into old wounds until pockets of air become sanguineous aquifers, bubbling up in his throat and leaving a sour, metallic taste on his tongue.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she reminds him. “Ye tell yer lass. Dinnae leave ‘er in the dark like ye did Kirsten.”

The line goes silent and Johnny sinks back into the old corduroy sofa, pushed up against the wall beside a shelf overflowing with picture books in the living room, and a ragged sigh unfurls from his chest.

The television across from him is dark, turned off when he took Isobel upstairs for bed, but he can hear an old rerun of Taskmaster playing softly behind him.

He listens, every night, for you. For the sound of your fridge, opening and closing. The soft ‘clink’ of porcelain against granite. The oven timer or the microwave.

He prefers the former. Knows, after these last few weeks, that you cook when you’re in a good mood. Usually go to bed soon after. The sound of the microwave precedes long, muted evenings and little sound from your side of the wall. He won’t hear the stairs creak beneath your sluggish feet until the wee hours of the morning. If at all.

He listens in the mornings, too, while he makes Isobel’s breakfast. Makes sure he can hear you doing the same. Smiles to himself when he glimpses movement in the window beside your door, a miniscule swaying of the curtain, and he holds Isobel’s hand a little tighter as they navigate lingering ice patches on the pavement.

The phone call with his mother, making arrangements for Isobel, masked the sound of your movements earlier, and his fingers twitch against his leather phone case.

When your side of the wall is quiet, he knows a storm is brewing; that you’re sitting in the eye of it, waiting for the walls to close in around you.

He doesn’t know if you’ve eaten tonight. Can’t hear anything beyond the muffled television and occasional creak of the sofa beneath your shifting weight.

So he calls.

One… two… three… four… “Hi, Johnny.” Soft and breathy. Like the air the words are spoken on has borrowed from the softness of your lips as it spills into the receiver.

This is the way you sound when you’re tired, he’s learned, all soft and rounded syllables. Too exhausted, even for your own nervous habits. You don’t have the bandwidth to explain every little thing like you normally would; don’t bother with rationalizing your actions aloud.

“Hi, bonnie. What’s cookin’?” It’s cheesy as hell, but it earns a huff of a laugh from you and it tempers the jagged edge of his worry—a knife, lodged between his ribs.

“I, uh… I had leftovers. Takeaway, from a work thing.” He’s never seen you with takeaway. Always canvas bags full of groceries and the occasional frozen box dinner.

How empty is your fridge? When was the last time you went to the grocer?

“Didnae take ye for the ‘easy’ type. Ye always make me work for it.”

“Work for it?” He can picture the pinch of your brows. The way your lips quirk to the side when you’re confused.

“Aye, got me makin’ puppy eyes an’ beggin’ for yer scraps.” You laugh again, more of a scoff, but it eases some of his worry all the same.

“When have I ever made you beg, Johnny?” He’s been begging any higher power that will listen to see you smile again, and he’d give anything to see the smirk he knows is dancing at the corner of your mouth right now.

“Could do it tomorrow,” he blurts before he can think better of it. “Come over. Show me that recipe again.”

Don’t make him tell you he’s leaving over the phone.

“I thought… you said the charity event is at the end of March, right?”

“Aye, but I think I’ll need a few lessons ‘fore my bakin’s fit for auction.”

He needs to know—needs to see—that you’re well before he goes.

“And you want to start tomorrow?”

“Why not?” He’d have you baking in his kitchen now if it weren’t for the late hour.

There’s a stretch of silence, interrupted only by the faint crackling of static and the sound of your breathing. “Do you have flour? Sugar? Anything to bake with?” you ask, and he answers with a proud ‘yes’. “Okay… okay. I can come over after work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ‘ave Bell home early then. She’ll want tae help.” Your amused sigh echoes across the line, followed by the faint rustling of fabric and then the soft pattering of stocking-clad feet over hardwood, fourth and fifth step creaking softly as you climb the stairs. “Off tae bed?”

Another sigh–on the tail-end of a yawn, he realizes. “Yeah. Well, trying. Don’t get a lot of sleep these days,” you admit, and though he’s successfully abated the storm of your thoughts, he wishes he could disperse it entirely.

Be the shelter you seek, at the very least.

He’d nestle you in the warmth of his bed, tucked close and sleeping soundly in the cage of his arms. Anchor you to him with a leg hooked between yours, whispering adulation against the howling, taunting winds.

He would make himself a rock to let your tempestuous thoughts batter and besiege. Weathered and whittled down to pebbles on a beach, he’d roll in the undertow alongside you. And when he is but sand on the ocean floor, still, he would drift and settle wherever the storm of you takes him.

“I used tae read for my sister when we were weans. She’d wake, spooked from a dream, and come tae my room in the middle of the night.”

“You have a sister?” A door clicks closed and blankets whisper over sheets as you settle in for the night. “What’s she like?”

“A lot like our Mam. Headstrong. Stubborn.”

“Are you the oldest?” You sound further away. Muffled. Like you’ve got the blankets pulled up to your nose and the phone beside you on the pillow.

“I am,” he lilts.

“She gets it from you, then,” you murmur, and his chest tightens.

“She got a fair number of things from me, I’d wager.”

He continues on, speaking just above a low, gravelly whisper. Reminiscing his early years and the trouble the two of them got up to. Thick as thieves and wild as the kellas cats roaming the highlands.

Your interjections dwindle, turn to soft hums and slow, even breaths. Sleeping.

He listens for a few more minutes to the soft, sweet sounds you make, little chuffs and sleepy hums, the susurrations of shifting sheets and nightclothes, and he whispers into the darkness, “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

Work passes you by in a blur, meeting after meeting chipping away at the hours and minutes ticking by on the analog clock perched on your desk.

The drive home is uneventful and it feels as though you’ve passed through a wormhole somewhere along the way. Can’t quite remember making the turn into your neighborhood from the main road.

Normally, Johnny would be leaving to retrieve Isobel from school right now, but as you gather your things and step out of the car you hear your name being called from several houses down.

Braids bounce and red wellies squeak as Isobel darts ahead of Johnny, weaving around patches of ice to get to you, and you step up onto the pavement just in time to keep her from running into the road.

She barrels into you, wrapping her arms around your leg and smooshing her face against your slacks. “Ye’re back!” she squeals, fingers curling into the fabric.

She’s leaving.

Your hand settles atop her head, soft wisps of curls tickling the pads of your fingers where they’ve escaped their plaits. “Where did I go?” you ask, and she tips her head back to look up at you.

“Bubby said ye were busy with work. Sometimes he gets busy too, and I have to stay with my gran.”

They’re both leaving.

Johnny’s caught up with her, lingering a few steps away near the walkway leading to your door. When you look to where he stands, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, windbreaker bunched up around his forearms where a tattoo peeks out, the corners of his eyes glimmer.

A smile curves the corners of his mouth, and it’s an odd mixture of grief and happiness that flickers there in the crook of his lips and set of his brow, sloped upwards and creased in the middle. His hair is longer than you remember, scruffy sides and tufts of mohawk curling at the ends, loose strands tousled around his face.

Wind blows at your back and a single tear tracks down the sharp plane of his cheek, disappearing in the dark shadow of stubble that lines his jaw.

“I have been busy with work,” you confirm, peering down at Isobel once more. “But I didn’t leave.”

You’re staying, and they’re leaving.

The wind picks up and she presses closer, shielding herself from the cold behind your frame. “Let’s get ye inside and put yer book bag away. Then we can catch up over cookies an’ milk,” Johnny says as he closes the distance between you.

“Cookies?!” Her excitement carries on the wind, and his smile sharpens, bright and hopeful, but the whetted edge of sorrow undercuts the warmth.

“Aye, but we’ll have to make ‘em ourselves.” He brushes a stray lock from her eyes, fingers brushing against yours where his hand settles beside it on her crown, and dread blooms low in your stomach where warmth should.

She ducks away from you both, bolting towards their front stoop, and you’re left with both of your hands hovering in the air, his half curled over yours, staring after her.

You pull away first, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I just need to sort this–” You gesture to the tote full of binders and your laptop. “–and I'll be right over.”

He fishes his keys from his pocket and takes a step back, towards Isobel. “We’ll be waitin’,” he says with a wink, and turns to take her inside.

There's flour in your hair and matching handprints on your slacks, and neither Johnny nor Isobel have fared much better. You’re all a mess, and the cookies you’ve made are tantamount to your disheveled state–lumpy, dry masses of something more closely resembling a biscuit.

“Dunno what ah did wrong,” Johnny muses, breaking one in half and inspecting the crumbly texture.

You sit beside him at the kitchen table, watching Isobel dunk half a cookie into a glass of milk. “It’s the butter and flour. The ratio is imbalanced–not enough fat.” She doesn’t seem to mind, stuffing the entire piece in her mouth and readying the next, fingers covered in crumbs that fall in her milk.

Johnny shifts beside you, sliding out of his chair and taking a bite out of his cookie as he moves towards the fridge. “Still tastes good,” he says around a mouthful and pours two more glasses, placing one down in front of you when he returns. “But I’ll need another demonstration when I’m back, I think.”

You take a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table, breaking off a chunk to dunk in your milk, and ignore the mirrored sensation in your chest. You knew this was coming. You know he’s leaving.

“When you’re back? From where?” you probe. No need to dance around the subject.

He shifts again, uncharacteristically nervous, and speaks softly. “Have to leave for a little while, for work,” he explains. Your cookie turns pliant between your fingers and you bite off the softened corner, chewing slowly while you listen. “Willnae know where they’re sendin’ me to until the briefin’.”

“When are you leaving?” You stare down at the crumbs swirling in your glass.

“Tomorrow morning.”

The foreknowledge of his impending departure doesn’t make the break any cleaner. The fracturing feeling in your chest widens into fissures and chasms, jagged edges crumbling, tumbling down into the festering darkness.

When you lift your gaze you find that he’s been watching you–studying you–and his hand has crept across the table, close enough you can feel the warmth of him. “How long?” It comes out wobbly. Unsteady.

You’re drifting out to sea again.

“Few weeks. Maybe a month.” Your chest feels like it’s caving in.

There’s a knock at the door. A canary in a coal mine, warning come too late.

“Gran!” Isobel’s chair nearly topples as she pushes back from the table, racing from the kitchen to the front door.

Johnny’s hand covers yours, long, callused fingers curling around your clenched fist and squeezing. “I’ll be back before ye know it,” he murmurs, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face and tracing the curve of your jaw as he stands.

He only goes as far as the kitchen doorway. Your heart’s already somewhere in the North Sea.

“Hi, Mam.” He’s greeted by an older female voice and pulled into a hug by a woman a whole head shorter than him. Isobel hovers nearby, bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and tugs at the older woman’s–her grandmother’s–cable knit sweater.

“Gran, come meet our friend!” she says, and tugs again until she lets go of Johnny.

You stand from the table on wobbly legs, fighting to balance your listing emotions and put on a warm smile as Johnny’s mother slides past him into the kitchen.

The resemblance between the three of them is uncanny. Johnny shares his mothers dark coloring, rich hair and warm skinned, and they all have the same eyes–steely hues of grey-blue, spiraling outwards from inky pupils like storm cells.

“So, this is the lassie next door ye willnae stop glaverin’ on about?” she asks no one in particular as she openly appraises you.

“Mam–” Johnny begins, a simmering warning, but she holds up a hand to silence him.

They carry themselves in a similar manner, in the set of their shoulders and broad stance. She may not stand as tall as he does but she’s no less imposing, and it’s an effort not to squirm under her scrutiny.

Seconds feel like hours as she looks you up and down, cataloging the flour on your pants and in your hair, glancing to her left where Johnny stands in a state of equal disarray, and a knowing look flickers like lightning in her storm cloud eyes.

“It’s good tae finally put a face wi’ a name,” she says, smiling, and pulls you into a hug, too. “Call me Fenella, or Fen, whichever ye like.”

You return the gesture hesitantly, looking over her shoulder to Johnny for guidance and finding none. He simply smiles back at you from where he leans against the doorway, something unreadable in his expression lingering beneath it.

“It’s nice to meet you too… I- I’d love to stay, but should probably be heading home. I have an early morning and wouldn’t want to intrude on your visit,” you say by way of excuse.

“Ah’m naw stayin’ long, dear,” she explains, finally pulling away. Isobel returns to her side, pressing her shoulder to her thigh, and Fenella’s hand settles on the crown of her head. “Here tae take the wean for a stay wi’ her gran.”

“Is yer bag ready, leannan? D’ya have all yer books for school?” Johnny asks from where he stands, hands having found their way into his pockets again. His shoulders droop, broad frame deflating before your eyes. Leaving her behind, even with his mother, takes a toll on him.

Isobel leans around her gran to say, “I’ave all my books. And Mr. Ghost.”

“Goan an’ get yer things then, Bell,” Fenella ushers her out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs behind her to her room.

You watch until they disappear above the half open staircase, but Johnny has been watching you. Watching you navigate the shoal of your emotions, razor sharp rock scraping against a flimsy hull.

“C’mere, lass,” he entreats, one arm outstretched towards you, and your feet move of their own accord, carrying you forward until his hand settles on your shoulder, momentarily moored in the eddy of a tide pool. “Didnae mean to tell ye in the middle of… this.” He gestures above him to the sound of footsteps overhead. “Only got the call yesterday.”

With your hands folded at your front, you stare down at them, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s okay. I understand—”

“No, lass, it isnae okay,” he interrupts, hand gliding up your shoulder, your neck, and coming to rest on your cheek. He lifts your gaze back up to his and he’s wearing that nameless emotion, staring down at you with a pained expression.

This hurts him as much as it hurts you.

“The job I do, it isnae always… predictable. Dinnae get much warning when I’m called in for assignments. I should have warned ye…” his thumb traces soothing arcs over your cheek, but it does nothing for the gaping hole in your chest. “I’m sorry… I should have—”

“It’s okay, Johnny. Really.” The lie feels like rubbing salt into a wound, burns the back of your throat like you’re speaking around a lump made of sandpaper, and your voice comes out scratchy and raw.

His hand lingers on your cheek, eyes darting from yours to your nose, lips, cheeks, brow. Memorizing.

“Let me walk ye home?” You nod, unsure if you can speak around the cordolium lodged in your throat, and his hand moves from your cheek to your waist, guiding you through the razor rock and churning tide to the front door.

His arm remains firmly around you, fingers digging into your softness as he escorts you across the meager expanse of your lawn.

There’s an SUV, still running, parked in front of both houses and left to keep warm while Isobel gathers her things. She and Fenella step out into the brisk evening air just as you and Johnny reach the top of your stairs, and Isobel waves to you as they descend. Your arm feels leaden as you lift your hand into the air, waving back to her.

“She‘ll miss ye. Talks about ye all the time,” Johnny says beside you, unwilling to let you go just yet. “I’ll be missin’ ye too,” he admits, and you thought you’d found the bottom of the pit in your stomach. Thought you were already lying at the bottom of it.

You were wrong.

The well of your affection for them feels bottomless. The floor crumbles, residual tremors of the quaking in your chest, and you’re falling, falling, falling…Even with his arm around your waist.

You fell in love with the man in front of you. Fell in love with the darling little girl climbing into her grandmother's car. You’re already in love with Fenella and her dedication to her family.

You’ve been falling this whole time, no safety net in sight.

“I- …” Your voice cracks, and you try again. “I’ll miss you, too. Both of you.”

You’re falling, and they’re leaving.

There’s little warning, just a tug of your blouse, before you’re being folded into his arms. A wide palm cradles your head to his chest, fingers threading through your hair, and he presses his cheek to your crown.

“Won’t be able to use my phone a lot, but I’ll call when I can.” He murmurs his promise into your hair. “If… if I’m not here an’ somethin’ happens… I gave my Mum yer number. Saved hers in yer phone when I gave ye mine.” He pauses. Sucks in a shuddering breath before he continues. “Whatever it is, she’ll help.”

You nod your understanding and he pulls back just enough to see your face, guides your head to look up at him and says, “Promise me. Promise that ye’ll go to her if ye need anythin’,” with a desperation you’ve never heard from him.

So you make another promise. Let your eyes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours and ghosts his lips across the chilled skin of your brow.

And then he leaves.

Isobel is sorted, buckled into her car seat and saying her goodbye’s to Johnny, and Fenella MacTavish stands beside the driver’s side door, watching.

She’s said this goodbye a hundred times. Sent him off to god knows where to fight a war she’s never heard of. It never gets easier.

Isobel’s door closes, and her son turns to her with pain in his eyes. “I hate leaving ‘er.”

“Which one?” she intones, and Johnny leans his hip against the B pillar.

“Both of them. The three of ye.”

“Then make sure ye come back tae ‘er–tae all of us,” she advises, and pulls him into one last hug. “I cannae bury another child.”

Next>>>

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paradisedumpling · 3 months

Text

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

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TROPE: bandmates!au; guitarist!yunjin; bassist!reader; silent pining; songfic(?); angst with a happy ending

SYNOPSIS: when a love song leads to a misunderstanding between two bandmates that are unawarely in love with each other, will they be able to fix everything and save not only their friendship but a future romance?

CONTENT WARNING: suggestive themes; use of feminine terms; insecurity; mentions of overworking; the characters are not good at communicating; not fully proof readed; author sucks at synopsis; feel free to tell me if I forgot anything!!

A/N: not one of my proudest works tbh but!! if you're interested in any of the songs mentioned/played I linked them down bellow!!

THE SERAPHIMS: track_1.mp3; track_2.mp3; track_3.mp3; track_4.mp3; track_5.mp3; track_6.mp3; track_7.mp3; track_8.mp3; track_9.mp3

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Nodding your head as you felt satisfied with the melody, your right hand left the strings to write down at the notebook in front of you.

Your fingers strummed the strings on the body of your bass guitar, a low humming coming from your throat as made up melodies in the empty studio.

Your brows furrowed together as you erased and changed a few words, writing the lyrics with better rhymes and harmonies.

"You don't have to say you love me. I just wanna tell you something. Lately you've been on my mind..." You softly sang, a smile plaguing your face as you thought about the person the lyrics were about.

"Then say it." You jumped in surprise at the sudden voice, turning around to see your bandmate Chaewon closing the studio door behind her.

"I didn't hear you coming." She laughed at your words, walking towards her keyboard and setting her things at the foot of the instrument. "What do you mean, though?"

She stared at you, an annoyed expression you were well familiar with plastering her face. An expression all of your bandmates were well familiar with. But you only blinked at her, making her shake her head in disapproval at your confusion.

"You should tell Yunjin you like her, you know." You immediately nodded your head disapprovingly, closing your lyrics book as if that would make her end the subject right there. But she kept on talking. "Come on! You keep writing songs about her that are so obvious even our fans are suspecting something! Just tell her already."

"They're suspecting something because they're dissecting the lyrics, it's different." You told her, getting up from the floor. "Besides, Yunjin already likes someone." You mumbled sadly, sighing as you and Chaewon began preparing the instruments for today's practice. "Half of our last album was all about this girl she likes." You grumbled under your breath, rolling your eyes at all the memories of her singing her songs with a big fond smile during practice and shows. "She spends every hour singing about how she's a thousand degrees in love with this girl and how she's her angel in the doorway and stuff like that!" You rambled, pacing around the room as you momentarily distracted yourself with your jealousy, rolling your eyes every few words as the lyrics of Yunjin's countless love songs passed through your mind. "I don't understand how someone can be so amazing to be such a muse to her and–"

"What did my spare drumsticks do to you?" Kazuha's voice halted you in your steps, making you realize you've been waving her drumsticks around furiously while rambling. You turned to face her, waving awkwardly as you watched the girl and Eunchae fully enter the studio and close the door behind them.

"Sorry, Zuha." You smiled apologetically at the girl, letting her sticks down on her drum seat. "I didn't see you two arriving."

"Clearly." Eunchae's giggles made you sigh defeated, going back to your bass as you dreaded what you knew would be coming in a few seconds. "What's with you?"

"Yunjin's unknown crush" Chaewon had a tone in her voice as she answered Eunchae you didn't quite understand, but the newly arriving girls laughs made you embarrassed enough not to bother much, simply wanting their teasing to stop and the last two remaining band members to arrive so you could finally begin practice.

"You should confess, unnie." Eunchae came up to you and laid a hand in your shoulder, her laughter dying down as she gave you a sympathetic smile.

"No, and that's final." You gave her and the other two girls as much of a serious look as you could, stopping at Chaewon to point a finger at her to emphasize your words. Then, you shrugged your shoulders, moving to plug your bass on your amplifier as you spoke again. "Besides, I don't want to ruin our friendship and break my heart at the same time, thank you very much."

"Suit yourself." Eunchae patted your back, going to check on her sound table to prepare for today's practice.

You thought that would be the end of it for now, feeling your shoulders a bit tenser at the idea of ever confessing to Yunjin. But Kazuha passed through you and dropped a comment that made you giggle, it managing to help easy your worried for the moment.

"That would make for a neat album though."

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Scribbling down furiously, you crossed out another verse that would not make it to the final song, tapping the end of your pen on top of the page you are writing in a random rhythm.

So far you only had the pre-chorus and the chorus. And with festival season coming soon, you knew the deadline to produce at least a few new singles for the concerts was approaching rather quickly. But after Chaewon's comment a few days ago, you were afraid to write anything that'd be too obvious and give your feelings away.

You were about to write some new rhymes down when your pen was taken from your fingers, a pair of hands clapping in your line of vision mere seconds after.

"Are you even listening?!" Your keyboardist asked irritatedly as you looked up from your lyrics book to her, catching all of your band and your manager staring at you.

"No, sorry." You smiled apologetically, averting Chaewon's irritated eyes and instead giving you attention to Sakura, suddenly very aware of the burning gaze Yunjin was throwing your way. "What was it, Kkura?"

"We're discussing the setlist for tomorrow." Instead of the japanese girl, who answered your question was the person you didn't want to face.

It wasn't like you didn't like Yunjin's face, far from that. You would stare at her beautiful eyes and rosy lips and cute nose for hours on end if allowed to. But the realization that she caught you distracted writing songs about her made you shy under her gaze, and you didn't wish to embarrass yourself any further in front of your team and the girl you loved liked.

"What are we not agreeing on about?" You muttered nonchalantly, looking down to busy yourself with closing your lyrics book, tapping the spine mindlessly to try and appeal unbothered.

"I want us to play Nauseous and I Hate the Way." Eunchae chimmed in, sounding rather annoyed, which made you grin amused and look up at her. "Kazuha thinks we should play Sour since it's been a while and manager thinks we should play Sour and Wonder instead of my two songs."

"Chaewon and I think we should cover Paramore or Muse." Sakura gave her thoughts, sliding a paper with a few songs from the legendary bands the two girls thought could fight your band.

"It would be a great surprise indeed." You nodded at your manager's words, scanning the paper with a serious face, thinking.

"What about Yunjin?" You lifted your head to look at the girl after a few seconds, catching her intense brown eyes still on you. The girl flashed you a smile upon seeing you finally give your attention to her, laying her head on her hand as she leaned on the table, not caring that she was blocking Eunchae's and your manager's view of you.

"I'm fine with anything you decide on, pretty girl." Her words struck your heart sharply, making your heartbeat fasten in pace as your cheeks grew hotter. You lightly cleared your throat, forcing yourself to roll your eyes to look unfazed.

Yunjin was always confident and affectionate, it wasn't uncommon for her to disguise compliments as flirtatious comments. And you hated that you loved it so much even though she liked somebody else.

"Well then, Jennifer. I like the idea of the cover and I agree we should play Sour." You gave Yunjin a teasing grin, trying your best to match her energy as you snatched your pen back from Chaewon's hands and circling a few songs your friends had picked down on the paper. "But since we're approaching summer we should stay with Nauseous, it fits the season more." You glanced around your bandmates to see their opinions, muffling a giggle as Eunchae pulled Yunjin back to look at you better.

Once everyone nodded and began discussing which song you should cover for your next show, you relaxed on your chair and opened your lyrics book again, writing down some verse ideas that popped into your head after the previous interaction with the girl that managed to snatch your heart. No matter the situation, Huh Yunjin never failed to inspire you.

But you couldn't absorb yourself too deep inside your brain again as Chaewon asked a question that made the room be filled with tension.

"We could do an acoustic version of your new song."

"You have a new song?" Yunjin barely let Chaewon finish her sentence before she snapped her neck towards you, eyes a bit wide as she asked the question with a serious and curious face.

"Hm, yeah." You slammed your lyrics book shut once you realized Yunjin's eyes travelled down to it, putting both of your hands on top of it to make sure none of it was visible to the guitarist's eyes. "But it's nowhere near finished." You told the others, although your eyes were still carefully watching Yunjin's every move. Her eyes remained on your book still. "I barely have a verse yet, so it's a no for now."

The table fell quiet, everyone staring between you and Yunjin as you quietly watched each other, both being filled with bitter feelings you would hate to admit out loud. But what you didn't know, was that your members and manager all knew the reason behind both of yours defensive actions.

They alternated their stares between Yunjin and you, knowing the american's mind was brewing with jealousy at the person behind your lyrics, and knowing you were spiralling in insecurity at the treat of the girl you liked finding out about the reason behind your songs when you thought she was into someone else.

But what you didn't know was that Yunjin's crush was you, and the guitarist felt as much jealousy and hopelessness towards your love filled songs as you did with hers.

Chaewon had wanted to tell you two about your feelings for one another the moment your friends picked up on it, but Sakura had forbidden her from it. Saying you two needed to figure it out on your own for the sake of the band and your own feelings. What they weren't expecting whoever, is that you were both too dense to realize anything and too scared to confess and cause a strain to your friendship and harm the band.

So now moments like these were filled with an awkward tension as neither you friends or your managers were allowed to say anything, and you and Yunjin were too deep in your own thoughts to realize the room had fallen into silence.

"What is it called?" Yunjin let out in a tight neutral tone, bitting back her tongue to keep the venom of jealousy to spill out with the words. She stared into your face with intensity, searching any sights of the soft eyes she was well accustomed with seeing whenever you spoke about your crush. But you refused to meet her gaze.

"I'm still not sure... Jen, I–" You cut yourself, unsure of why you wanted to explain anything to her. Swallowing down hard, you licked your lips and spoke again. "Let's focus on tomorrow, guys." You gazed around nervously, silently asking your friends for help to change the subject. Luckily, they seemed to understand you.

"Yeah, Yunjin." Sakura broke in, bringing the attention back to the list on her hands. "We'll worry about it later. Right now, let's focus on the song we need to learn and rehearsing for tomorrow."

You shot Sakura a small but grateful smile, carefully turning your attention towards Yunjin and finding the girl slumped on her chair, fiddling with her fingers with a pout on her lips. You didn't understand why she looked upset, but you'd wonder about it another time.

Not wishing to embarrass yourself any further, your attention remained on the subject discussing in the table. For the remaining time there, your lyrics book stayed shut and tucked away in your bag, as did any wandering thought about your feelings for a certain american guitarist.

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A loud piercing sound invaded your eardrums as you slammed your hands in the keys of the piano, a frustrated groan accompanying it as you let your head fall back, eyes screwed shut at the headache brewing in your head.

Your bass guitar laid discarded on the floor, had long served it's tenor sonoric purpose in your composition. Surrounding your instrument, numerous paper balls of sheet music and ripped pages from failed ideas littered the floor.

Your back was aching from sitting without a resting place for too long and you weren't sure if your phone even had battery anymore, you didn't know where it was. All you wanted was to get the melody and arrange correct for your new song, but it seemed like every idea you wrote down and played didn't sound right. You were beginning to lose your patience for the day.

With another frustrated groan, you erased yet another failed set of chords. Throwing you pen to the side, you brought a hand to massage your temple when a pair of firm hands pressed down on your shoulders, massaging the tension away skillfully.

"It looks like a hurricane passed through here." Yunjin's voice entered your left ear in a calm whisper, her hot breath fanning on your neck making a shiver run down on your body. "Are you doing okay?" Her concern warmed your heart and you nodded at her question, leaning back on her body behind you with a satisfied sigh.

"Nothing I play is enough." The moment you mumbled that Yunjin's hands immediately left your shoulders to slide down to your front and hug you as tight as she could in the position you were in.

"That's not true–"

"I barely contributed on our last album!" You didn't let her speak further, cutting her words as you pressed down random keys in the piano, wincing as the loud sounds only made the pounding in your head worsen. "What am I even doing in this band anymore?" The phrase left you mouth in a defeated whisper, the exhaustion of a night full of frustration being spilled in the presence of the girl.

"Hey." Yunjin's voice was firm as she pulled back and spun you around to face her. "That's not true and you know that." She grabbed your face with both hands, squeezing your cheeks together to make it difficult for you to speak in case you tried to interrupt her again. You hummed annoyed, but she sent you a look that made you slump defeated. "The amount of songs you make for an album does not mean you didn't contribute to it. You're an essential part of this band just as much as any of the girls." You looked down feeling a bit embarrassed, but Yunjin simply lifted your head again, moving one hand to the back of your neck while the other moved to take strands of hair off of your face. Her tone became softer as she spoke again. "Besides, we all know this band wouldn't even exist if it weren't for you and your genius brain, pretty girl."

You rolled your eyes at her, but you didn't fight the small smile that made its way to your lips at her words. Despite all the frustration clouding your mind, you knew everything she said was true. Specially the last part.

Initially, The Seraphims was only a college project you made for extra grades and the band only consisted of you, Yunjin and Kazuha at the time. You all took the band as seriously as any college student in need of grades would and were all ready to break off as soon as the grading came out. But a friend of yours wanted the band to play at his birthday party and despite having only one song you wrote in high school, you insisted you all played for a crowd bigger than your classmates at least once.

After that night Yunjin was booked, but Kazuha still had her insecurities regarding the band. It took a lot of pleading and assurance from you and Yunjin to get her to attend practice again and eventually she was as invested as the two of you.

As the band grew famous and it began to be too much for three of you to handle alone, Chaewon and Sakura came to the picture through personal invites. Chaewon was Yunjin's dorm roommate and a talented pianist, and Sakura was your Valorant buddy and a great guitarist. The two butted heads the moment they met and for the first few rehearsals with the five of you it felt like The Seraphims were done for. But you pushed through every practice even if half the band was fuming the whole time and Kazuha was laughing so much she couldn't focus on her drums. Eventually, the two oldest members in the band found equal passions outside of music and a shared love for soju, becoming so close you couldn't even tell today that they screamed insults at each other every five seconds.

Eunchae was the last piece you were missing. During the making process of your first album, five young adults fresh off of music school wished nothing but to explore new sounds. And it all proved to be too much for Chaewon to handle alone during shows, so you and your new manager decided to open up auditions for a new synthesizer, something that was easily agreed on by the other girls. And thus Eunchae came in one day, a bright smile on her face and excitement oozing off her skin playing a remixed version of your first ever song Back To Me. Two minutes in and you all new that skilled girl would be the new member of The Seraphims.

Had you not glued the band together all those times, the six of you might have never been were you where or had met the wonderful person that Eunchae was.

"Okay, you got me there." You told Yunjin, giggling when she smiled brightly at you. "I still can't get this stupid song right, though." You turned back around to face the piano, rubbing your temples as you stared at the open pages of your lyrics book.

"Scoot over, sweetheart." You watched as Yunjin sat on the piano bench at your side, scooting closer to you until you skins were touching and her right leg was almost over yours, even if it had plenty of space for the two of you. You didn't mind though, turning your neck to the side as you felt heat rushing to your cheeks. Yunjin grabbed your lyrics book, reading the song you wrote for her silently while nodding her head approvingly. "How does it goes, princess?" You blinked at her, not fully understanding her intensions until she looked at you again and grinning playfully. "What? We did always composed the best together."

You smiled shyly, taking a deep breath and wiggling your shoulders to release tension before bringing your fingers to the piano keys for the billionth time that night, pressing the down as you began to sing softly. "Walk in your rainbow paradise..." You turned to look at Yunjin, eyes falling to her pretty lips as the words spilled from your own lips. "Strawberry lipstick state of mind." You quickly averted your eyes from her lips, looking up to find her intensely staring right at you. "I get so lost inside your eyes..." Your fingers stop playing for a few seconds, the next words coming out of your mouth in a bittersweet whisper. "Would you believe it?"

Yunjin smiled at your dazed face before turning her face away to read the rest of the lyrics from your book. You blinked rapidly, shaking your head lightly to snap yourself from the hypnotizing aura that Yunjin had. Her fingers brushing against yours made you turn your head back to the piano keys, her sweet voice entering your ears just seconds later.

"You don't have to say you love me, you don't have to say nothing." She looked at you, her eyes caring an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it made a familiar feeling set into your lower stomach. "You don't have to say you're mine."

"Honey, I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you. Oh, honey." You both began singing together, Yunjin getting the hang of the song even if it was her first time singing it. But anytime it was just the two of you in the studio, there was an undeniable connection and there was never a need for much words for you to understand each other. The feeling of her fingers brushing against yours as you played together was as familiar and easy as drinking water. "I'd walk through fire for you, just let me adore you like it's the only thing I'll ever do."

As her eyes stayed on yours, your fingers slowly came to a stop. You and Yunjin stared at each other intensely, your eyes darting down to her lips as you softly sang as a soft promise you didn't fully realize yet. "Like it's the only thing I'll ever do..."

Yunjin's hands left the keys fully, pulling you by the tights impossibly closer to her, as you now practically sat on her lap. Both of your hands held her shoulders for support as your breath became intense in expectation for what was about to happen.

One of her hands went to your cheek, while the other firmly held your hip. And for a moment, you stayed like that. Eyes never wandering further than each other's lips, hands firmly holding onto one another as tension grew around both of you.

"Jennifer." Her english name fell from your mouth in a plea, and in an instant she pulled you to her. Her lips crashed on yours in a messy but needy kiss, both of you sighing into it as your heart hammered in your chest from excitement.

Your hands pulled the hairs on the back of her neck and she groaned into your lips, her hand on your hips squeezing down hard as she tried to pull you even closer to her.

You felt her tongue asking for entrance and you tilted your head to give her more access, feeling the hand she had on your hips sliding up and inside your shirt to scratch your back. You arched towards her, breaking the kiss momentarily to sigh in pleasure. Yunjin took the opportunity to bite your lower lip, her other hand going down to the hem of out shirt, tugging impatiently.

But before things could get any more heated, the sound of the door opening made you quickly pull apart from one another in a panic.

"Do you know what time is it–" Your manager busted through the door with a familiar scolding already leaving his lips, but he immediately stopped in his tracks upon seeing the situation he walked into, eyes comically wide in shock. "Oh, girls! I'm s-so sorry!" He practically slapped his hands over his eyes, turning around and awkwardly fumbling with one hand to look for the handle of the door. "I'll leave you be–"

"No!" Yunjin pushed you fully off of her, scrambling to her feet as she ran her hands frantically over her hair. "It's okay! This–" She moves to walk towards him but stops. She doesn't look at you. Walking around the mess you made in the studio, she grabs her bag in the table you assume she must've left when she came in and you didn't hear. "I'm so sorry, manager-nim! This was a mistake." You saw her wiping her lips nervously and dread squeezed your heart hard. She wiped your kiss. "I should go."

"Yunjin–" But before you could get any more words out, Yunjin bolted past your manager and out through the door, leaving you panting and all alone wondering what the hell had just happened.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

For the next few days, Yunjin had been avoiding you like the plague. Ever since that day in the studio, she would ignore your presence unless she really couldn't and had not once looked you in the eye like she used to.

Your manager had promised he wouldn't tell a soul what he saw, but your bandmates had caught on that something had happened pretty much in the first few hours of the next day. They had all tired to talk to you both about it individually, but if Yunjin wasn't saying anything, than you weren't either.

You couldn't look at the song you were writing anymore, or even spend extra time in the studio. Everything reminded you of Yunjin and that day and it all just hurt too much. You couldn't bear the idea that you might have just lost your best friend and the love of your life. It just all felt so hopeless.

Trying to talk to her proved futile as she ran away the second you caught her alone. You didn't really know what you did wrong. I mean, you were aware she liked someone else but she made the first move. She pulled you in her lap and kissed you. And you were sure if your manager hadn't shown up, things would have escalated to way more than just kissing.

You just couldn't understand why she was being so childish. Why she was so ashamed.

The different emotions you were keeping in your chest were becoming too suffocating to bear and you were afraid you'd choke on them soon. But there was no time to think about them right now, you had a job to do and a bass to play.

Your next show was in just a few minutes and it would be a lie to say the atmosphere in the backstage wasn't heavy. You would all be usually cheering yourselves together and goofing around to destress, but right now everyone was silently in a different corner by themselves.

Yunjin was the further she could from you running some last minute adjusts with Sakura on their pedals, that you were sure was just to keep herself occupied with work so no one would question her anything again. The clear tension had been stressin Chaewon so much she was probably snapping at a poor soundcheck trainee somewhere you couldn't see. Eunchae had been by the instruments silently side-eyeing you and Yunjin since the moment you arrived at the venue, clearly disturbed by whatever was going on between you and the american guitarist. And Kazuha had just brought you a bottle of water for the third time in the last ten minutes, asking if you were doing okay every time she did so.

You honestly felt bad for your friends that this situation had been affecting them and the band so much. But it wasn't your fault Yunjin clearly didn't want to resolve anything at the moment. And not knowing the core of the problem, there was nothing you could do about it.

Luckily, the time to enter the stage had quickly arrived and the show went smoothly up until fourty minutes through it.

You had just finished playing one of the songs you wrote about Yunjin and out of instinct, you turned to look at her with a big euphoric smile on your face, only to find the girl flirting with the fans and showing off her guitar.

It was a common sight in your concerts, but this time it fueled a rage inside of you that made you grip the neck of your bass tightly.

Yunjin had time to flirt with you shamelessly since your college days. She had time to play with your fool heart time and time again so carelessly. She had time to kiss you and abandon you all alone in the studio without so much of an explanation. And then she has the audacity of avoiding you and flirting with other people in front of you as if your friendship and the kiss you two shared meant nothing? You were mad.

Fuming under your breath, your hands slapped the strings of your bass guitar before you could change your mind and the crowd's surprised screams as they recognized the song did nothing but fuel you further. You could see from the corner of your eyes Yunjin and Sakura turning to you with confused expressions. You weren't playing the song you all rehearsed from your setlist.

But you were frustrated and heartbroken from all the years pent up silently crushing on Yunjin and being lead on by her flirtatious personality. Frustrated by finally kissing the girl only to be dumped and ghosted by the one you thought was your everything. And you've finally hit your boiling point. You needed to know if there would ever be anything between you and her so you could finally try to move on. If she wanted to be childish and not listen privately, then she would listen to you now.

"The crowd has come to a halt, the birds won't sing for you anymore." You sang with deep emotion on your voice, and even if they weren't understanding anything, Sakura and Kazuha followed your lead quickly as the song began. "Not like before."

The lyrics left your vocal cords with a venom you didn't know you possessed before, the crowd becoming blurry as your eyes filled with tears that carried all the feelings weighing on your chest at the moment.

The special effects team also caught up on your sudden change of songs as the lights in the venue changed colors to a dark red and you sang your heart out as you reached the chorus, not caring about anything other than letting you emotions out with the performance.

Yunjin was your first and only love. Yunjin was one of your closest friends. Yunjin was the first thing in your mind when you woke up and the last thing in your brain before you went to sleep. Yunjin was your muse. And you were hurting too much to stay silent any longer.

When the second verse arrived, you turned to look directly at the owner of your heart, only to be surprised by finding her already staring at you with concern all over her eyes. But you wouldn't back down. If anything, her seemingly out of nowhere worry after all these days of ignorance only managed to steam you further.

Looking directly into the eyes you loved so painfully dearly, you declared the next words to her. "You know all the words to the play, but all I wanted was you to stay." The realization slowly sinking on her face as you never broke eye contact made the first tear fall from your eyes, the memories from the day of your first kiss flooding your head alongside everything else and you bittersweetly sang. "Your time is running thin, cause I'm falling through the cracks under your floor."

For a moment it was only you and Yunjin in the entire world. Only you and Yunjin, and the rift between you two. Only you and the tears furiously falling down from your eyes. Only her and the guilt in her face.

And then you turned your attention back to the crowd again, the reminder of professionalism constantly in the back of your mind as your fingers burned above the pressure you were putting on the steel strings of your bass guitar.

When the bridge arrived, you leaned closer to the mic, looking at Yunjin from the corner of your eyes as you sang to her, the crowd and yourself simultaneously. "When the story comes to an end will it be the same again? When all the king's horsemen and all the king's men, they couldn't put you back together again." The bright lights stang your teary eyes just as much as the words you were singing stang your heart. But you wouldn't stop, you refused to. Even if they hit too close for comfort. "Oh, when the story comes to an end will it be the same again to you? " And when the last part of the bridge came, you fully turned to her, singing with all the emotion you could muster while fighting back a loud sob. "When the story comes to an end will you be the same again at all? At all?"

Your hands gripped the mic and you closed your eyes as you sang the ending high notes with all of your heart, not managing to hide a sob as the song finally came to an end. The loud cheers of your fans did enough noise to hide the small sobs leaving your chest as the stage became dark to prepare for the next song.

It was hard to ignore the worried stares of your bandmates, but you managed to compose yourself enough for the last remaining twenty minutes of the show. However as soon as it ended and you entered the backstage, the nearest member had to hold you as you broke down in tears.

Kazuha let you wail in her chest all the overwhelming feelings in your heart, rubbing your back comfortly as she desperately looked around for your friends for help. She didn't know what was going on yet and she had never seen you break down like that, but she would try her best to comfort you and you were grateful for that.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The time between the ending of the concert to the moment you arrived at the green room was confusing in your fuzzy mind. You could hear people calling your name and shouting at others, but you didn't know who or why. You could only assumed it were your members and staff, but you simply let Kazuha drag you along, not bothering by anything anymore.

That was until Kazuha dropped on the couch with you and a very familiar perfume invaded your nostrils as another pair of arms circled your shoulders. It was as if a cold bucket of water was thrown on your head and suddenly your mind felt clear enough to react.

You pulled away from Yunjin as if her touch burned, turning your neck in her direction with an outraged look.

"Pretty girl–"

"Don't you even dare, Huh Yunjin!" You got up, wishing to be as far away from the girl as possible, a shaky finger pointing at her face as the room quickly became silent.

Everyone wanted to know just what the problem between the two of you was. Or maybe it was just because you shouted at Yunjin. You realized you probably looked terrible with your makeup all smudged and ruined, your trembling body and rapid breathing. Maybe they were scared of you or for you. But all you cared about was the guitarist's pleading look in front of you.

"But–"

"Oh, so now you wanna talk?!" The shame on her face did nothing to sooth your outburst and you almost slapped the girl when she tried to hold your wrist again. "I've been trying to talk to you for days, Yunjin! Days! But now just because I'm a stupid mess you wanna play best friend?!" You motioned between you and her with your hands, sighing frustrated when all Yunjin did was look down at her feet like a kid being scolded for being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "What about the day you abandoned me in the studio after you know what?! You just pick what days you choose to care for me and what days you wanna play with me now?!" Yunjin looked up desperately, her mouth opening and closing as she searched her brains for any good answers, but nothing she thought seemed to satisfy her as her shoulders slumped defeated.

"I'm sorry..."

"You gotta be kidding me." You sobbed into your hands, not even sure why you were screaming at Yunjin anymore. You just wanted to get out of there and out of her sight. It was unfortunate you had to leave with everyone else, including Yunjin. "Am I a joke to you?"

"Okay, what the hell happened in the studio between you two?" Chaewon stood between Yunjin and you as she stared both of you down with that same annoyed expression you were well familiar with, except this time it had much more concern than ever. "We are not leaving until you two at least give us some light on what's going on!"

"It was a mistake–" Yunjin tried to say, but hearing that same explanation again shattered your heart in multiple pieces.

"Am I that disgusting to you, Jennifer?" Your voice came out broken with hurt, sobs leaving your mouth freely again. "If I knew that would ruin our friendship I would have never–"

"That didn't ruin anything! I promise!" The guitarist tried to hold your wrist once again and this time, you let her. Quickly, gentle arms circled around you in a firm hug, as Yunjin tried her best to comfort you. "I'm sorry, princess." She shushed you, kissing your forehead a few times before she brought her mouth to your ear, whispering gently. "Do you really think that about yourself?"

"Why else would you run away?" You sobbed into her chest, tears staining the fancy jacket she was wearing. You could only hope your stylist wouldn't scold you later for ruining her clothes. "Why is it a mistake to you, then?"

"Oh, honey, no." With a care you knew only Yunjin possessed, she held your face in her hands and gently wiped your cheeks. It was at that moment that you saw she had began crying too. "I was just afraid you'd hate me after I kissed you."

Whispers and murmurs filled the silence in the room, everyone surprised at the revelation of the core of your drama with the girl. You didn't miss Kazuha's loud gasp as she kept her spot in the couch next to you, neither did you miss Eunchae's and Chaewon's flabbergasted inquiries, or Sakura's hands slapping over her mouth in shock. But all you could fully focus on were Yunjin's glassy brown orbs that stared at you with deep emotion.

"I know you like someone else, gorgeous." She whispered sadly, caressing your cheek as she gave you a sad smile. "I thought you would hate me after that."

"You're stupid." The words left your mouth before you could even think correctly about what to say, a mixture of a sob and a laugh leaving your mouth right after. Yunjin blinked confused and you just let your head fall back to get chest again, mumbling. "You're the one I like, if that wasn't obvious already, you big idiot."

"Oh..." Was the only thing that left her mouth.

And for a few seconds, you thought that was it. Everything was ruined. You and Yunjin were over. You've lost your best friend. You've lost the love of your life. You've lost your muse.

Then you tried to wiggle away from her arms, feeling embarrassed and self conscious about your failed confession to the guitarist. But Yunjin tightened the hold she had on you, thus preventing you from escaping her. Before you could question her or try to scape again, she began laughing.

"Gosh! I am stupid, honey. You're right about that!" You gathered the courage to pull back slightly, now being your turn to look at her with confusion as she kept on laughing. "But I guess that makes you stupid too, pretty girl."

"What–"

"I like you too, baby." Your eyes widened at the revelation, a shocked sob leaving your throat as Yunjin grinned widely at you. "If that wasn't obvious already." She mimicked your words with a teasing tone, caressing your cheeks before gently squeezing them.

"Oh..."

"Finally!" Eunchae's excited scream served to remind you that there were plenty of other people in the room with you two, the younger girl launching herself on top of both of you in a messy hug. "I'm so happy!"

"I'm glad you both realize you're two stupid morons!" Chaewon's celebration didn't carry the same tone as Eunchae's, but it brought the same warmth and laughter to you and Yunjin. "Because you are! And much more!"

"Chaewon!" Sakura scolded your keyboardist, pushing the girl aside to stand of the three of you on the floor. "I'm glad everything is fine now." You knew her relieved smiled meant more than it did at first glance. The rift between you and Yunjin for the past few days had affected the band just as much as you two individually. And now that everything was somewhat resolved, you couldn't wait for your next show.

"As someone who has been here since the beginning." Kazuha's sobs were not something you were expecting out of this whole situation. But as she kneeled down and tried her best to hug three people with her only two arms, Yunjin and you had the same sympathetic reaction to laugh and pull apart from one another to hug the drummer. "I'm so happy you're finally over the kiss and confess part. It's been so many years!" She sobbed into your arms, laughing at her own crying.

"As much as I love you all and I'm glad those babies confessed, can we get up and go home?" Chaewon approached with a more calm tone, not being able to hide her own smile as she stared down at the four of you. "I think we all need to rest right now."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely!" After taking some minutes to compose yourselves, you all got up and began gathering your belongings to finally leave the venue, the atmosphere around your band much less tense as you talked and laughed on the way to the van.

"Oh! I forgot to say something!" Chaewon spoke the moment the door of the van closed, turning to look at the five of you as she sat in the passenger's seat. "While we're at the dorm, no se–"

"Chaewon!"

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"Have you ever thought about dying your hair red?" Yunjin mumbled against your shoulder as she mindlessly played with your hair strands.

"Yeah, maybe." She mumbled, leaning down to give you a peck on your lips before dropping your hair to pull you closer to her by your abdomen. "You'd look really good with it, babe."

"What?" You looked up at her from your laid position on her bed confused, but she looked serious. She was proped on her elbow behind you wearing an oversized shirt she got from your closet, that looked extremely cute on her. "Like yours?"

"Doesn't that go against the whole 'redhead x literally any other hair color' concept, though?" You turned around in her arms, drawing random circles on her back as you looked her in the eyes.

"Does it matter?" She pouted, going back to playing with your hair as she looked deep in thought. "I just think it'd be really funny though." She shrugged, scratching your scalp gently.

"Funny how?" You pressed a kiss to her jaw, not failing to noticed how she suppressed a giggle.

"Just funny, no specific reason." She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders again. You squinted your eyes and watched her face, trying to figure out what she was hiding from you. "Red is kinda of our color too."

"Right..." You watched to see if she would say anything else, but she didn't budge. So you decided to drop your suspicions for now. "If you go back to blonde, maybe then we can think about it." You leaned up to kiss the pout off her lips, bringing a hand to hold her chin and gently pry her gaze back to you. "Why are you so caught on this anyways? You don't like my hair now?"

"I love your hair!" Suddenly, she pressed you down on the mattress, propping herself with two hands on top of you as she spoke between pecks on your lips. "I. Absolutely. Love. Everything. About. You. Specially. Your. Beautiful. Hair."

"Okay, okay! I get it!" You giggled, pulling her flush against you and kissing her deeply, sighing in content before you pulled away. "I love you too, Jen."

"Jen?" She leaned on her hand to look at you better, whining in a way you'd almost laugh if you didn't truly know her. You wonder what your fans would think if they saw the big hottie guitarist from The Seraphims acting like this. But you loved it, so you'd never complain. "No baby? No sugarbum? No love of my life?"

A laugh left your chest loudly and you closed your eyes as you could contain it. Yunjin whined annoyedly again, and you had to put a hand on your chest to contain yourself.

You really loved Huh Yunjin.

Spinning the two of you around, you straddled her hips as you leaned down and let your lips hover over hers, not quite touching yet. "When you officially ask me to be your girlfriend I'll call you whatever you want, Jennifer." You grinned at her, pulling away when she tried to lean up and capture your lips. Before she could pull you down again, you left her lap and jumped off the bed, looking over your shoulder. "Come on, Jennifer. We have rehearsals in thirty minutes." You let her name roll on your tongue, laughing and running out of the her bedroom when she tried to chase after you.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You bursted through the reunion room with a big smile on your face, your lyrics book and a pendrive tightly held to your chest. "Good morning, everyone!"

"Someone looks happy." Kazuha said amused as she watched you walk around the rectangular table in the reunion room to set your things down at the short edge of it.

"You mean someone looks like they didn't get a single hour of sleep last night." Sakura mumbled, taking a large sip of her coffee as the early hours had her half asleep still.

"Details, Kkura. Those are simply details." Your words only served as a confirmation of what they already suspected was true the moment you walked in with those two objects in hand.

"Did you really pull an all nighter again?" Your manager tiredly rubbed his forehead as he averted his eyes between your familiar big smile and the pendrive on the table.

"Maybe." You mumbled, not being phased by their accusations as you joyfully opened the laptop and began setting things up for the reunion.

"Why didn't you go check the studio like usually?" Chaewon's morning mood choose it's first victim as she turned to your manager with a sour face. "Festival season is in five days, we need our sleep."

"I wasn't about to risk my mental health by walking in on those two again, now that they've made up." Your manager trembled under the memory of catching you and Yunjin making out before everything else unfolded. You could only give him a sympathetic look as Eunchae and the mentioned girl walking through the door with three bags on their hands.

"Makes sense." Sakura patted the man's back, nodding her head with a tight grin, probably imagining the scene he saw.

"We brought food!" Eunchae announced happily, pulling out delicious looking sandwiches from the bags and handing one to each of the people in the room.

"Morning, sweetcheeks." Yunjin gave you a peck on your cheeks as she passed through you, a big smile adorning her lips as she looked down at the pendrive you connected to the laptop. She already knew what it was.

"Okay, so!" You clapped once loudly, gaining the attention of your friends, and some complains from the oldest ones, before motioning to the laptop in front of you proudly. "I just finished the demo of our new biggest hit!"

"Can we finally play it in a show now?" The new information seemed to lessen Chaewon's mood as she leaned on the table with interest. "The first festival is soon."

"Yes, we can!" You told her, giving the girl a thumbs up as a confirmation of your words. "It's so good it might become our best concert so far!"

"So good it's Grammys worthy?" Eunchae asked playfully as she munched down on her own food, but her eyes sparkled with excitement as you confidently nodded your head.

"Come on! Play it for us!" You giggled at Kazuha's impatience, but complied anyways, being impatient yourself to show them your new song.

"It's called Adore You, and I hope you all like it!" As you opened the audio player and clicked on play, your turned to watch Yunjin briefly. The two of you shared warm smiles as the lyrics of the song that meant so much for the both of you now began playing for your friends. Soon, that would be the symbol of your love to the world.

🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The buzzing feeling the excited crowd gave you was never something you'd get tired of. The hot summer air had sweat dripping down your back and your chest heaving rapidly, but their cheers and them singing alone gave you all the energy you needed to go through an entire show with ease.

The sound of Sakura's ending pentatonic riff as your last song finished prompted you to look at your band in euphoria, finding them with expressions that held the same feeling as they looked over to the crowd.

"I hope you're not tired yet because we have two more songs to play tonight!" Yunjin's joy filled voice moved your attention towards her, giggling as you could hear some fangirls and fanboys losing their mind simply over her speaking. "I guess you guys still have energy left, so I want everyone to take their phones out! Come on! Everyone!"

Like stars in the night, the vast sea of people began being illuminated by balls of light all across. You stared at the sight in awe, your chest pounding from the adrenaline it gave you.

"You'll really like to record this, by the way." Chaewon spoke into her mic with a giggle. You turned to her confused, only to find four pairs of eyes staring at you with teasing smiles. You were about to question the closest member to you, Eunchae, when Yunjin's next words had you whipping your head in her direction.

"And I would like to dedicate this next song to our beautiful bassist." Yunjin extended her arms in your direction, giving you a flirtatious smile before blowing you a kiss, leaving you confused and flustered. "Babe, this is me making this official, my sorry for being so dense and my promise to love you forever."

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but you found yourself in lost of words as Yunjin's victorious smile blinded you and your fan's impossibly louder screams made your ears ring.

"Red, red desert heal our blues. I dive deeper for you." You missed your cue as Yunjin and the others began singing, blinking dumbfoundedly at her. "What a blessing to feel your love. Twilight moments with you." She blew you another kiss before her hands went down to her guitar, prompting you to snap out of your surprise and quickly begin playing your own instrument.

You quickly looked over at the crowd, silently asking if they were seeing the same thing as you, before turning to the american again. I guess you now knew why she wanted for you to dye your hair red, it would indeed be funny.

"I've been asleep so long, I'm so far away." As Yunjin sang directly at you, not one moment looking away, you could feel the deep meaning behind them and the irony of it all. It made you smile lovingly at her. "Visions I see are strong, I hear what they say." Her loving gaze made you have a realization as words she said before passed through your mind again. This was Yunjin asking you to be her girlfriend, in the only way that would be right for the two of you. "Won't you leave all your fears at the edge of the world? I’ll tell you again like I told you before. I've been asleep so long, wasting away." She looked more serious as she sang the next words. "Tell me, would you pack up all your bags, stay true to North?" And you'd definitely say yes to that. Nodding your head rather rapidly, she gave you a short smile, understanding just exactly what you meant. "You're the only one I'd do this for." She motioned to the crowd with her head, blinking playfully at you as the second chorus began, her eyes not leaving you in any moment.

You didn't approach your mic and your girlfriend and the other girls sang the chorus. Instead, you slowly approached Yunjin, minding not to trip on any cables and ruin the moment.

Your girlfriend looked surprised for the first time in the night as her flirting gaze dropped momentarily, carefully watching as you stood right in front of her, the only thing separating the two of you being your instruments and her mic. You gave her a sly grin as you brought your lips close to her mic, singing the next lyrics looking directly into her eyes.

"It doesn't take too long to heal and replace." It felt like you and Yunjin had entered a bubble of your own, a vermilion ball of emotions enveloping the two of you in a drizzling love confession. "The demons we're running from, they're begging to stay."

You two sang the pre-chorus in unison, a smile growing on both of your faces as the lyrics went on. The happiness in your bandmates voices was, too, audible to you as this time, the six of you joined to sing the chorus.

The crowd's flashlights managed to enlighten the featured of Yunjin's face and in that moment, the guitarist was the most beautiful you had even seen.

When the bridge arrived, you brought your instruments closer together as you played the riffs with excitement. It was felt like you two were flirting through your bass and guitar, and you assumed it probably looked the same. Yunjin looked up to your eyes with a joyful grin. "I adore you." She confessed, playing with the words of the song you would sing in just a few minutes.

"I adore you too, baby." Her smile grew impossibly larger and you could recognize the prideful sparkle in her eyes, making you giggle lightly.

When the song finally came to an end, you barely had any moment to catch your breath as Yunjin pulled the neck of your bass down with one hand and grabbed the lapel of your jacket and pulled you into her, crashing her lips onto yours in a heated passionate kiss.

She let you go briefly, smiling widely at the fans loosing their minds and your deep breaths, pulling again for another kiss, a gentler one this time, but just as passionate.

_________________________________________

"Ready for another song, baby girl?" She mumbled against your lips after pulling away again, a teasing grin adorning her own lips.

"Oh, yeah."

a/n: this was just me shuffling through my pop/rock playlist and picking the songs I liked the most lol, which is why you can tell the angst was not initially planned and the some parts were a bit rushed cause I suck at angst but it's okay I guess hahahajdjsjk

thank you so much for reading!! <3

#le sserafim x fem reader #le sserafim x reader #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #huh yunjin #le sserafim yunjin

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