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aroacehanzawa · 1 year

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On Dazai, his heartrate, The Book, BEAST, and metanarratives (or: how we may or may not already know how it all ends)

Have you noticed that in the opening of season 4, Dazai is the only one who is shown to mouth along to the lyrics? Specifically, he mouths along to the last part of the line that goes something along the lines of "The context in which my soul beats, turn it into a heartbeat" (魂が打つ文脈、鼓動に変えてしまえよ (source)).

This is interesting, because as Ango established in episode 11, Dazai has been communicating with the outside world by adjusting his heartrate to encode deciphered messages. And i hate this plot point with a passion, hated it when it came up in the manga and still hate it after the latest episode, so i will cope by doing the following in this 3k word essay (which i wrote in about 5 hours on the day i have an actual real-world deadline):

Trying to figure out 1) what this skill of Dazai implies about his character and role in the overall story, and 2) how this implication is supported by the lyrics of the opening theme, "True Story" by SCREEN MODE, and 3) how this opening suggests a more intricate connection between BEAST and the main timeline, and 4) what all of this means for the current arc, the overall story, and the author(s).

I. The heartrate gimmick

The reason why i'm so put off by Dazai's superhuman ability to control his own heartrate is that this is the first time in the series where something significantly breaches the realm of plausibility which has so far been established in the universe of bsd. However, that in itself means that it may be a hint to a much bigger picture.

To start with, we've seen that human biology in bsd verse still follows the rules of our own world, and any anomalies can typically be explained by abilities, such as Kenji's superstrength. The same goes for non-human anomalies: instead of outright breaking the laws of known science, they are either some kind of manifestation of abilities or otherwise derived from abilities, such as skill weapons (like Well's time-manipulating camera, or Fukuchi's space-time sword. The plot of Fifteen and Stormbringer, even.)

Even Dazai and Fyodor's galaxy brain moments generally fall into the realm of possibility, like Fyodor memorising all the cards in Ace's deck based on their scratch marks, or Dazai predicting Sigma's rock-paper-scissors moves with Sherlock Holmes-esque deduction skills. (Dazai and Fyodor communicating in code based on their past conversations is something more unbelievable, so for now i'm putting that in the same category of unexplainable as Dazai's heartrate trick.)

The thing that bothers me is this: Ango says that Dazai's heartbeat trick is something only he can do, but it clearly doesn't fall in the realm of biologically possible as we know it (controlling heartrate to some extent maybe, but being able to encode complex messages like that?). We also already know Dazai's ability, so it can't be related to that. (Or do we? Dazai's ability in itself is a paradox, a non-ability, and that arguably places him outside the circle of typical ability-users.)

Now, when it comes to things that have gone beyond the general level of plausibility in bsd, it could be said that they are all somehow related to The Book: the reality-altering that took place when the ADA got framed, Sigma's existence and the Sky Casino, and BEAST. The island on which Yosano was stationed is possibly also related to The Book, as it apparently came out of nowhere and is surrounded by its own anomalous properties.

If so far all the discrepancies between our own world and the world of bsd can be traced to either abilities or The Book (even historical differences are caused by the overall existence of abilities), we can extrapolate that any unexplained phenomena can likewise be traced to one or the other. We know Dazai's ability, but that alone doesn't seem enough to explain Dazai, which leaves us with The Book.

I'm far from the first one to suggest that Dazai is somehow connected to The Book, and others have written some excellent theories about it, so i'll move on to my next point: the lyrics to the opening theme "True Story":

II. What exactly is the true story?

When i listed the known (or at least most significant, because i can't remember more) cases connected to The Book above, they are all significant plot points in season 4, except for BEAST. However, that may not be as obvious if we have a look at the lyrics of the opening theme.

I wont go into too much detail because i don't know any Japanese (i'm just referring to google translate as well as this fan translation of the lyrics) so if someone who knows the language decides to continue this analysis that would be amazing!

The first notable line is this: 何者でもない　白紙だった僕に　刻まれていくMy True Story ("To a blank page that wasn't anyone, my true story is etched" or "My true story is engraved on me, who was nothing but a blank page"). Here, the speaker is likened to a page of the book, something initially empty but given a purpose through the telling of a story. The reference to a blank page unmistakably reminds us of the page from The Book, that has played such a significant role all throughout this season.

I'm not going in order, so the next notable line i want to point out is: 魂が打つ文脈、鼓動に変えてしまえよ ("My soul reflects the context, turn it into a pulse" or "The context in which the soul beats, turn it into a heartbeat"). There is the clear mention of a heartbeat, and this is the line which we can see Dazai mouth along to in the opening, so let's continue by assuming that Dazai is the speaker in these lyrics.

While the song as a whole is very metaphorical and can be applied to a large part of the cast, it becomes more interesting for the purpose of this analysis if we take a more literal perspective, whilst simultaneously assuming that these are Dazai's thoughts.

Idk how to say this in a less convoluted way but: if Dazai's very existence, that is to say including his soul, is anomalous itself, then the superhuman manipulation of his heartrate could just be considered as one application of his existence. Or rather, of the context of his existence: something anomalous beyond abilities.

The mention of "context" is also interesting as something inherently tied to a story and storytelling. So far we have a page, a book, and a story, and they all point towards Dazai. Let's then assume that Dazai is indeed the speaker to whom the "blank page who wasn't anyone" is likened to, whether figuratively or literally.

The next line I want to bring your attention to is: 傍(かたわら)にいる　誰かを救うため　刻みこんでいくMy True Story ("To save someone who's by my side, I engrave (it into) my true story"). And this is where i'm going to bring up BEAST, a concrete example where Dazai has specifically succeeded in saving Oda by writing the plot of BEAST into existence in The Book or one of its pages.

If we then connect this line to the previous one with "my true story", we can say something like: Dazai saved someone important to him by writing his story onto a blank page not unlike himself.

In fact, he says so himself: 何者にも委ねないで　書き残せ自分自身で / ……書けるさ、魂を (Don't trust/entrust yourself to anyone, write it down yourself, write it down with your soul/write down your soul.") Here we get an implicit connection between writing down something, and doing so with one's soul, arguably with Dazai's existence (or writing down one's soul/being into existence, depending on what's the accurate translation).

Given the theme of The Book, we can't help but connect the act of writing to the act of reality-altering. Therefore, if we consider that Dazai writes i.e. reality-alters by either writing down his soul or by engraving a story into his soul, something akin to a blank page, we arrive at the conclusion that he is himself a reality-altering page like one in The Book.

The whole thing turns in on itself: Dazai does something external to affect the outside world, but that something is directed at himself. This circular or paradoxical nature is reminiscent of his own ability, which instead of manifesting outwardly like other abilities, is something that negates the outside, reverses an existence into an inexistence, even turns his own ability into a lack of one.

Now, an especially interesting line is this one: この命こそが文章-sentence-だ ("This life is the sentence") because the word "sentence" is intentionally sung in English, retaining its dual meaning of "a formally pronounced punishment" and "a cluster of words usually containing subject and verb".

For the first definition, there is obviously the prison sentence Dazai is currently iin, but you could also say that he considers his life a similar burden. For the second definition, does he mean his whole life has been written into existence in one sentence (knowing that it's possible to write a human into existence, if we take Fyodor's word for it when it comes to Sigma), or would it be more correct to assume that by "life" he means his and everyone else's life in the present timeline? Combining both definitions, we could even say that his life is a burden or an inescapable prison precisely on account of it having been brought into existence as a story.

Like i said, the "Dazai is the Book" idea is nothing new, but interpreting the lyrics in this way offers some interesting support to the theory, and will lead into what I want to say in the next part, which is how BEAST relates to all of this.

III. The role of BEAST

The refrain with which the song opens and is repeated several times is: 未(ま)だ語られない　物語の先へ　踏み出して征(ゆ)くのが勇気だ ("I still can't speak of the story ahead, it takes courage to take a step/to step forward and conquer"). This can be taken as apprehension towards the future, but there's something about the song that also makes it sound like Dazai already knows what's ahead, he just doesn't have the courage to say it.

Specifically, it's this line here: 出来過ぎた結末が　用意されてたって ("Even if the too perfect ending was prepared for me"). The lines following it are rather difficult to interpret through mediocre translations, but there's something about not being able to abandon ("it"? what? something or someone? "those who give up"?). We could continue with the interpretation that Dazai knows something about the future, about his ending, but there's actually another approach we can take.

I'm just spitballing here, but what was a more perfect ending for Dazai (whether prepared for him by an outside force or achieved with his own hand) than the one in which Oda lives and writes a book, and in which he himself gets the sweet release of death? Yet there's something he can't abandon - those around him, or life itself, or his own self that gave up.

I've heard the "main timeline is a prequel for BEAST" theory before and others may have also proposed what i'm going to say next, but i'll say it anyway: BEAST is the prequel to the main timeline. (Or better yet, it's both, with some variation. But that's too convoluted for now.)

The line that i mentioned before about "saving someone who's by your side" might hold the key to this idea, depending on how accurate the translation is and how we interpret it. It depends on if being "beside someone" is meant as like being with "someone important" or more like literally being next to someone, even being with them in life. Because as much as Dazai found the ending of BEAST as perfect as it could get, it is still not the same as being able to stand next to Oda in every sense of the word - at the same place, at the same time, in life, as friends, as equals.

Then there is this line: 自問自答を繰り返して　撰(えら)べ　本当はどう生きたいのか / 本性が知る解釈、根拠はそこにあるだろ (Unavoidable decisions, even if they are arranged, am I just a dull existence if I just accept them") where Dazai shows reluctance to accept something predetermined, "unavoidable decisions" such as those that would lead to either Oda or Dazai surviving but not both. There is also the implication of things being arranged by an outside force, so if we go with this assumption then the previously mentioned "perfect ending" could also be said to have been prepared for Dazai by this outsider, even if he presumably arranged it himself as he says.

And this is where we delve into the truly meta part of this analysis.

IV. The role of Dazai

First, I'm going to go back to the part where Dazai is shown to mouth along to the lyrics in the opening sequence. He is the only character to do so, effectively breaking the fourth wall by engaging with an anime opening theme, singing along to the line specifically mentioning a heartbeat, and saying out loud the lyrics that would otherwise be considered only as inner thoughts (like with character songs etc).

This is not the first time Dazai has shown to take on a role precariously close to directing the narrative. He does this explicitly in BEAST, whose universe exists because of his own meddling with reality. In the main timeline, his predictions and strategising border on the omniscient and almighty.

There is one significant line towards the end of True Story that is worth examining now: 今語る言葉　物語を創る ("The words I speak now create the story"). This line could mean that Dazai is currently crafting the story to save that someone, to create the life he wants to live etc etc everything that the song is about. But it could also be related to him specifically singing this song, the opening theme of Bungou Stray Dogs Season 4, and laying out the story that will take place this season.

All of these things add up if he truly is an existence beyond ordinary humans or abilities, like something intricately connected to The Book. That is because there is at least one more existence that's found these things - namely, the author.

With that in mind, if Dazai knows that the endings (of BEAST and/or of the main timeline) have been prepared for him by someone else such as the author, that could be the reason why he says the line "Don't trust anyone, write it down yourself" etc. To be precise, that could mean that Dazai acts as the "author" of the current arc in defiance of the true author (and the lyrics contain a lot about "truth" that i haven't touched upon at all).

But what does that mean in the long run? Is Dazai the author? Is Kafka Asagiri the final villain? Who is the mastermind? Idk, this is already the furthest my brain has gotten for now.

I do want to quickly mention an interesting discussion i saw recently about how the different instalments of bsd all have separate protagonists, who are not Dazai - yet Dazai remains this central character in all of them, somehow deeply rooted to the narrative yet standing at a distance from it. And that may be precisely due to his nature of being more than just a "character" of bsd as we know them.

So, to put together allllll of these different points and make sense of what i've been trying to say:

The existence of Dazai's character and abilities must be explained by something adjacent to The Book, or something even beyond the in-universe explanations.

Dazai is able to alter reality, either in his own right or with help from The Book (which may itself be connected to him) but the alterations he makes may have been compelled by a greater force.

In the event that BEAST acts as a prequel to the main timeline, Dazai's dissatisfaction with the pre-determined ending (and distrust of others) leads him to write his own story, in order to save someone important to him (Oda, if we take the word "someone" at face value, or it could be something more abstract like the value of his own life).

This act of writing with/into his soul relates to the reality-altering aspects of writing into The Book or its pages, so the entire main timeline can be considered as originating from words on paper following the events of BEAST.

Dazai goes from protagonist to author (which also explains his Godzai moments) but this very act pushes him outside of the story, thereby alienating himself from the circle of characters. Effectively, he has taken on all three roles of Reader, Writer, and Protagonist.

Then, how about the "we may or may not already know how it all ends" that i alluded to in the title of this post? Easy: it ends when Asagiri stops writing.

Sorry i couldn't keep out the Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint brainrot at the end there. But if you know what i'm talking about then you get it.

#my phd thesis also known as: the orvification of bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #bungou stray dogs #me writing english essays on tumblr dot com for an audience of like 5 people #<- my neglected meta tag #bsd spoilers #bsd meta

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 5 months

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Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 17.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: More plot. No space for smut this time.

Tag list @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Links: Part 1, … Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

You were the kind of person who worked very well under pressure. It was written all over your résumé and unlike some others who claimed this trait and then folded like paper under the slightest bit of stress; you actually did work very well under pressure.

The career kind of pressure.

The pressure involving deadlines and all-hands on deck scenarios in which you needed to perform flawlessly and harness every innate professional skill you’d perfected over the years so well that you could rely on trusting your gut with every move and you actually saw results. You could handle anything, professionally; you were not one to back down from any challenge you were presented with and you did not waver or cower in the face of great adversary.

Baekhyun had gone motionless beside you. From the corner of your eye you could see the way he clenched down hard on his jaw and judging from how very still his chest was, it didn't seem like he was breathing.

Your mind half registered the elevator stopping at your floor, only you did not make any moves to exit.

You watched the back of President Byun’s head, frozen by what you could only describe as abject panic coursing through your every vein. It was a new feeling to you. You felt paralyzed as you stared at the graying strands of his hair and you begged and pleaded that perhaps you had simply misheard him.

You did not have a plan for this. This was a new and terrifying kind of pressure you had never experienced before.

President Byun, Baekhyun’s father and your boss — not your direct superior by any stretch of your imagination but the boss, the big boss, the boss to end all bosses of your entire professional existence up until this point, that President Byun — he had just dropped an atom bomb on top of your head in this tiny box that was hurling you away from the earth up toward his golden towers in the sky, he had just called you out for your sins against him, your sins against him and your sins again his precious and dearest child. His son who he’d breathed life into when he brought him into this world and had handed over to you to nurture and to care for and you had what? Seduced your way into his life; made him fall in love with you…

What would the man think of you?

A harlot? A threat to the Byun family name? A gold digger? There was plenty of his hard earned and life long suffering gold to dig for; but would any amount of your begging and pleading arguments even begin to touch at the surface of just how much you weren’t after any of the fortune? You did not care one bit about it. You had made your way in this world just fine so far on your own merit alone and you could continue in this way forever for all you cared.

But Baekhyun… never in your entire existence had you felt this kind of love for another human being.

Would you just have to give him up?

You would not survive such a blow. You’d just as easily give up your career than give this man up. Just the thought of spending a lifetime without him in it made that prospective life worthless to you.

The elevator had halted. It had reached the end of the line and the doors dinged softly seconds before they pulled open and your eyes caught the tasteful red patterned plush carpet that lined the top floor of this building. None of the other floors had this kind of luxury that gave with a bounce underneath your feet as you walked.

It was a different world entirely up here.

“See me in my office, in one hour.” You flinched when his strong booming voice called out into the hollow space of this elevator right before a shift in his balance indicated that he was leaving you both behind in here. You still could not be sure he was speaking to you both or only to Baekhyun, but there was something that felt a bit like a guillotine’s chop that struck against you hard when you caught movement in his face as he angled his focus just slightly in your direction for one more strike, “You might as well come too,” he added before he was gone.

You managed a quiet whisper before the doors moved. A “Yes, Sir” somehow came out of your parted lips.

The doors closed up and neither of you moved.

Your eyes wandered over the space before you. The illuminated lights overhead that told you this contraption was still sitting at the top floor; not yet called on by any other travelers and not told where to head by either of the two occupants still standing inside of it. The shiny doors now in their closed position showed very clear scratch marks from the years of opening and closing again and again. The panel with all of its numbers and at the bottom, the red alarm button that would connect you with someone, with anyone, who might be able to help you in the most dire of situations you found yourself trapped in. Did they help with disasters of your own making?

You extended your hand and you noticed the visible tremble in your fingers as you pointed your index finger and lightly ran it over that red alarm button; genuinely wondering what kinds of emergencies they were equipped to help with.

A movement pulled you out of the quiet trance you’d been stuck inside, and a hand with slim fingers reached forward into your field of vision.

His fingers pressed a familiar number and then his hand traveled down to lay lightly over your hand. His hand moved slowly over the back of yours and he wrapped his fingers around your hand and squeezed down just enough for you to pull your eyes away from the red alarm button and seek him out.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly; his brown eyes looking into your own with a myriad of emotions surging through them. Concern. Guilt. Worry. He blinked once and broke eye contact, looking down at his feet as he bit down on his bottom lip and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m going to be fired.”

Baekhyun shook his head back and forth, lightly at first but harder as he got going; with a deep inhale into his lungs, his face lifted and he looked into your eyes once more as he shook his head with more conviction.

“No,” he said, “No, you won’t.”

You watched his face and felt the effect of the stress you were feeling pulling at your stomach, making you ache from the inside. You closed up your eyes and felt the smallest tug at your hand as he shook you lightly to beg for your attention again.

You gave in to him with his next words.

“This is just a negotiation. We have an important meeting in an hour — for a negotiation. We’ve had plenty of those, right?”

It took you a moment to hear him through the haze you felt in your mind but after a few seconds you nodded your head in agreement. Maybe you could get through it with this kind of mindset.

He inhaled to speak again, “Now…we have to prepare for the meeting.”

You found yourself seated on the sofa in your office. Assistant Cha had been sent away on some insane photocopying mission crafted by Baekhyun that was likely to keep her occupied for hours, and although you had wished for it all day long, having some alone time with Baekhyun inside your office now, felt about as joyous as planning a funeral.

During your discussion with him, he seemed to overlook the ‘how’ for now — he was less concerned with how President Byun came to know of this incriminating information; brushing it aside as a mere detail that would be dealt with later, and he was fixated on the ‘what’ as in Baekhyun seemed convinced that his father, master businessman that he was, actually knew far less than the brief encounter in the elevator suggested.

“I’m not convinced he knows it’s you,” he urged.

“Why does he want to see me in his office, then?” You countered and he only shook his head with a small shrug of his face, not at all giving you a response to this fact with anything concrete.

“I don't know that. But you don't know that man. He was angled in my direction; I could just feel it.”

“He was standing straight and facing forward. There was no angle.”

“He was talking to me. His tone — his voice — it was projected in my direction. I know my Dad, he is upset at me. But only at me. His feet, or his hips had a slight…angle, I can’t explain it, but I know it,” he insisted again, “he definitely knows there is a woman, but that’s as much as he’s got.”

“What if we get up there and he knows?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. What do you always say is the first rule of negotiation?”

“Don't ever show your hand,” you repeated the words you religiously mumbled to yourself before any big showdown.

“Don't ever show your hand,” he repeated with a forced smile on his face that did not reach his eyes.

You’d kept an eye on the clock. Time was moving much too fast for this. You hardly had any time at all to prepare; not that there was much either of you could do to prepare for this.

You made a quick stop at your desk before you joined where Baekhyun stood with his hand on the doorknob of your office watching and waiting for you to follow him out. Of course, he was watching you as you grabbed the plain white envelope out of your desk drawer and discretely slipped it inside the inner pocket of your suit coat.

“You won’t need that,” he said matter of factly.

“That’s just a worst case scenario. Like a plan B.” you said with a sad smile on your face, speaking of the short but sweet resignation letter signed with your own hand. “I’d rather resign than have my name dragged through the mud.”

You heard a dissenting hum from the back of his throat as Baekhyun clearly did not agree with your back-up plan. You’d taken your place at his side and instantly you felt his hands reach into your coat and he pulled out the letter. You watched in half annoyance, half amusement as he gripped it lightly in his fingertips and quickly ripped it in half, before stacking the halves and ripping those into more pieces which he proceeded to drop into the waiting trash can near the sofa.

“Plan B is you are 6 weeks pregnant,” he said in a joking tone. You frowned as you looked down into the trash can. You definitely didn't have time to print out another resignation letter now. “Of course, we’d have to get started on that right away, so that the timing works out.”

“And then plan C is we run away and get married, anyway,” he said with a dip of his head to catch your eyes, making you look up into his face. You had still been looking down at the trash can when you felt the softness of his fingertips below your chin, urging you to look at him. “You can be the breadwinner. I alway knew I would make a beautiful trophy wife one day.”

He was playing now. It was intentional; just to lighten your mood a little bit before the real danger came and you found yourself standing in front of the consequences of your actions trying not to pass out. You knew he wasn’t making light of this very real and very scary situation with his jokes and after a few seconds you looked up into his face; you could see so clearly, the poorly concealed worry there.

You leaned into him first. You slipped your hands inside the warmth of his suit jacket; wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and you buried your face well into the crook of his neck. His arms encircled you immediately and you felt the echo of a soft hum from deep within his chest.

“We will be okay,” you heard him say right beside your ear where he had tucked his face into your hair. It sounded like a statement but you definitely heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice. After a few quiet seconds you heard his inhale.

“No matter what happens — y-you wouldn’t leave me, right?” All traces of the ruse were gone. All false humor and forced bravado vanished with his quiet question.

His voice trembled with genuine fear as he asked you such a terrible thing.

You lifted your eyes to look into his face and you lifted a hand to rest it on his cheek.

“I would abandon my career before I would leave you, my love,” you called into his heart, soothing whatever silly fears he had — that you could somehow live without him. With your words, he closed his eyes slowly; taking them deep inside. His lips parted as he tasted the truth in them.

“But you just ripped up my resignation letter so let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.”

For this, he opened his eyes again, tilting his head slightly to the side.

It was time to go. You knew how long the elevator ride would take up to the top floor and if you weren’t inside of it soon, you’d be late. With as many transgressions as you had under your belt against his father you didn’t need to add any more to the list.

“Wait, I thought the resignation letter was to keep your name off the blacklist, as in to protect your career — but it was for me? To stay with me? You’d give up your job to stay with me?”

“But you love your job. Your job is, like, everything to you.” He was still speaking; strangely fixated on this little detail. You were certain it must be his need to gauge your love and devotion to him; which was ridiculous. You were about to get fired because of how much you loved this man. The least he could do was not gloat about it.

You were straightening your suit jacket, buttoning buttons and smoothing your skirt as he talked.

“Well you ripped it up,” you said with a grin; feeling a little bit like you were going into battle, “so I guess we’ll never know.”

You pulled your office door open and stepped out into the open floor; making your way through the cubicles and out into the hallway that led to the elevators.

The hour reprieve you’d had with him had done something unexpected. Yes you were headed up to what was very likely to be your demise, but strangely with him beside you — with Baekhyun, your love by your side, you might just make it through whatever happened upstairs. Perhaps this love you’d found could soften whatever detrimental blows you received today. Suddenly your work, your career, your job title felt just a little bit less than the highest priority to you.

Inside the elevator he inhaled a breath. You knew his silence through the crowded office space would not last; not with his curiosity left unsatisfied.

“So me or your professional reputation? What was that letter for?”

The elevator moved quickly. The rapid motion made you feel queasy and you had to lay a hand over your belly to calm your nerves. He noticed and reached a hand out in your direction, landing a palm over your own hand as you cradled your belly.

“What is it? Is it the baby?” His words of what sounded like genuine and convincing concern caught you off guard and you couldn’t hold the small surprised chuckle that broke free — that he would dare say such a ridiculous thing out loud. The laugh, the first genuine bit of happiness you’d felt in more than an hour caught you off guard more than his joke and you marveled that you could dare to be feeling something so joyous during such a dreadful situation.

You lightly swatted his hand away and he let out the sweetest teasing giggle.

“Sorry, just practicing my acting.”

The final steps out of the elevator, out onto that luxurious carpeting, and down the hallway that lead up to the heavy wooden doors of the CEOs office, were quiet. Any remnants of misplaced humor from either of you were snuffed out by nerves.

Baekhyun pulled on the handle and you stepped inside first, catching the eyes of the President’s secretary as soon as you both stepped inside the entryway.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Byun, ” the young man in the crisp suit called out an overly formal greeting with a stiff smile directed at your boyfriend. His eyes glanced in your direction and you got a short head-nod, “Miss Managar. The president is expecting you. Please — this way.”

The man rounded his desk and stood in front of a second set of heavy wooden doors with a hand extended toward it and his torso leaned in the direction you were both to go.

“You may go in.” His other hand extended halfway toward his first.

You felt as if this plush carpet had swallowed up your feet. They seemed to refuse your attempts to send a signal from your brain to your legs to make them move.

You heard the heavy door open, despite how well oiled and maintained those hinges were, your ears caught the movement of wood as it slid over thick carpet.

You knew you should move. Baekhyun was already inside.

The young man took one step closer to where you stood and you heard him inhale to speak again.

“You — may go in,” he said with, god bless him, without any change at all in his tone, despite the fact that he had now said this to you twice without you actually moving at all.

“Yes.” You whispered toward him. His eyes caught ahold of yours and he held on to his blank expression so well.

“I am — g-going in.”

Something was wrong with you. Could stress cause paralysis?

“Miss Manager, you may go in.” The man reached a quick hand behind you and you felt the smallest push of his palm over your shoulder and coupled with the nerves; the embarrassment you felt surge through you surely had turned your entire face into a flushed hot red mess. Still, the smallest push he gave you actually got your feet moving and you took three or four big steps right into the office of the President of this company and the father of the man you secretly loved.

President Byun’s focus was on his son. There seemed to be some sort of a stare down going in the first few seconds of this interaction. Your entry into the space pulled both of their eyes away from each other and you closed the distance so that you were standing directly beside Baekhyun.

President Byun opened his mouth to speak.

“Ahh Miss Manager,” he said, looking into your face with lifted eyebrows and a confusing smile on his face. “Lovely that you could make it as well.”

The smile for you felt so genuine. Soft almost. You couldn’t quite connect that soft smile the old man gave you with the anger and outrage he should have had on his face when he looked at you — you, the scheming, gold digging harlot who had used her influence and power over his dear sweet child to trick him into believing he was in love with her.

You felt confused. You felt silly. The longer he looked at you with such a warm expression. The nerves and apprehensions you had been feeling were dissipating like bubbles in the air above your head.

“I actually wanted to meet with you about this young man right here, but I don’t believe you need to be present quite yet.

“I have a personal family matter to discuss with my son first. Something about some woman he intends to marry — without even consulting his dear father, that has given him everything — without even letting me meet her first.”

Oh.

He didn’t know.

Baekhyun was right.

Baekhyun’s posture had sagged some. You could see the relief in his spine and you looked over into his face and found him concealing the smallest smile on his lips that he had to bite down to keep under control. His eyes stayed fixed ahead of him but you could tell he was quite pleased to have been right about his father.

“Umm..pardon me, Mr. President but I haven’t prepared any performance evaluation materials for Assistant Byun for today…”

“Oh don’t worry one bit, Dear. This is all very unofficial.”

The soft pet name was unexpected but not unwelcome. You were not in any trouble at all. You were not about to be fired. There would be no official sanction or lawsuit. Sure you had technically broken some of HR’s rules with the timing of everything but there was no crowd awaiting your public execution. No one was sharpening a head chopping ax. Just a soft old man whose feelings had been hurt that his son left him out of such a monumental life decision.

Baekhyun would have to soothe his fathers ego well, but you were certain he could handle it without letting his own stubbornness get in the way.

“Dad. You will get to meet her, but no matter what you say, I’m not going to change my mind. This meeting is pointless. If you wanted me to come and hang out we could have just had lunch together.”

Oh no. He sounded sassy and defensive. Stubborn and immovable. Just as you’d feared, both men shared an equally strong sense of stubborn entitlement that was probably genetic.

“I don’t even know her. Is she smart and capable? Does she have good business sense? What does she do for a living? You have kept her from me — why? Do I know her?”

“She loves me. I love her. That should be your first question.”

Part of you wanted to intervene; to remind him of how delicate this situation was and how if he handled it with just a little more grace he might get further with convincing his dad.

You were retreating. You’d already been told to step aside and you’d made it just outside the doorway mid-way through their heated discussion about Baekhyun’s future, his birthright, and his responsibilities.

You were alone with the secretary again. He was seated in his chair behind his desk watching you with a passive and disinterested expression on his face as you stood with your back against the wall right beside the still slightly parted doorway.

You could make out their conversation but with the young man watching you, you pretended like couldn't and you kept your judgements about the over the top and ridiculously stubborn things both men were saying to yourself.

“Have you ever been to Egypt?” the secretary suddenly asked. His focus seemed far away but you were the only person in this room so you figured he was talking to you.

It took a few seconds but you shook your head back and forth as a reply.

“Oh you seemed like maybe you have. I want to go to Egypt.”

Clearly this man had some preconceptions about you. You smiled politely as you kept your ears trained on the heated discussion that continued behind the door.

“Just try it. Go ahead. You say I’m dramatic now, just try and force my hand. You want to lose your only son, forever? You have no idea how dramatic I’ll get.”

“Maybe I’ll go in the spring so it’s not so hot. It’s the desert though so it might be hot all the time. I want to see the pyramids. Which has better pyramids, Mexico or Egypt?”

“Please. The nurse at the hospital said she’d never seen such a dramatic baby and you were only one day old. I know exactly what kind of show you can put on. Is she trustworthy. Can she handle coming into this world.”

“I won’t give her up, even if she can’t. I’ll protect her from the family if I have to.”

“I don’t know,” you said to the young man.

“Oh you seem like you would know,” he replied, looking genuinely disappointed in your answer. You felt slightly taken aback. What on earth gave him the impression that you were an expert on the pyramids in Egypt and Mexico? “Why do I seem like I would know?”

“I don’t know.” He said as a final cryptic response and just continued staring at you. You felt weirdly sorry to him; as if you’d actually let him down today. Maybe you should read the Wikipedia pages on the pyramids in case you had to come back up here for a meeting with the President again.

“And don’t even try and come up with something dumb like ‘she’s pregnant.’ I have my own private doctor on speed dial.”

“Well, what if she really is pregnant?”

“Is she?”

“No.”

“Get out of here.”

The door pushed open sooner than you expected and with enough force that you had to quickly move yourself away from it to avoid being smacked. Baekhyun came through the doorway with about as much pent up aggression as you had ever seen on him and the second his eyes met yours you caught the tiny wink and the soft smile that spread over his face for a split second. He gave you a small head nod and you inhaled a breath and actually fought the eye roll at the theatrics you had just witnessed from him. Was this really his negotiation tactic? Act like such a brat that his father simply gave in from sheer exhaustion from having to put up with his spoiled behavior?

You made a mental note to have a word with him about maybe trying out some other techniques that may be just as effective and less traumatizing for everyone involved.

There was no time now though, it was your turn with the old man. You pushed through the doorway and found Baekhyun’s dad standing on this side of his desk. You imagined how worked up the man had been with his son pushing all of his buttons as he had apparently been so good at doing.

“Ahh yes, close the door please, if you don't mind.” The shift was attempted well, but not complete as you could still see some of the previous agitation rolling off of his shoulders.

You did as you were told and circled back toward the doorway that you had left slightly parted for Baekhyun’s benefit and through the crack in the doorway you caught his eyes and seemed to beg you to keep it open just a little bit. He even lifted his fingers up, holding his index and thumb together motioning a tiny space between the two and frowned his lips dramatically when you shrugged and pulled the door closed completely, blocking out the view and the sight of the man entirely.

You could tell from how his disgruntled ‘hrmph’ sound was cut off mid-way that this heavy wooden door was completely soundproof.

“Miss Manager,” the president began when you returned to him. He had leaned against the desk, taking on a much more casual stance than when you first entered this office and he lifted both of his hands to his chin in a thoughtful and pensive pose as he cleared his throat and said your name without your title attached to it. You found it curious, but the next words he said had your curiosity absolutely burning and your mind whirling.

“I’m afraid this is not a business meeting. I am so sorry if this is unwelcome and I realize it is inappropriate of me to even mention it, but alas I am an old man without nearly as much shame as I should have. Life is long and yet life is so short.”

“And yet, I do admit that I am still ashamed to say I have something very personal to ask of you — or more so, to beg you to consider. Merely the consideration is all I ask.”

“Go on,” you said carefully and with absolute caution in your voice. His words had so much pretext you could hardly stand the build up. Whatever it was he was about to ask you must be the most unusual and unheard of request you’d ever received from anyone and as delicately as he danced around his words, protecting his pride with as many asides as a self aware one act play, you imagined he had never had to ask anyone this sort of thing in the entirety of his life up until this point.

Until he was standing here before you with chagrin in his eyes, a shameful smile on his face and his beseeching request sitting on the tip of his tongue.

You had been well prepared. As prepared by him as you were going to get. And still you felt a jolt.

“What do you think of my son?”

You watched his face after he asked this question. Unsure enough for your lips to remain steadily closed and your eyes to flutter about his face, landing into those familiar brown eyes that now seemed to look at you with a different sort of fondness you had not yet noticed from him before.

Was this a trick?

Had you walked into a trap?

“Umm..Assistant Byun has proven himself to be an invaluable asset to my team. He is sharp, insightful, and incredibly capable. Much too valuable to be stuck as my assistant for any longer, which is why I’ve processed his transfer out so much sooner than anticipated. Perhaps you’ve noticed, he will be moving on next week.”

President Byun watched silently with that same smile on his face as you raved about his only child and when you were out of compliments to give, you closed up your mouth and looked into his expectant face with your eyes growing wider the longer he looked at you in silence.

“Mhmm, I see,” He said after a while and his eyebrows lifted as he tilted his head.

“And what do you think of my son…as a man.”

His eyes did not leave your face and you inhaled a breath to hear his follow up question and the implications it concealed. It definitely felt as if you had walked into some sort of a trap here with his knowing smile and his trustworthy and open stance. He was standing close to you and had angled his torso in your direction. He had given you his full and undivided attention and possibly even cleared out a long block of time in his busy schedule just for you and you instantly closed up your lips; taking a tiny step backward and crossing your arms over your chest at just how dangerous this little talk of his felt. This unofficial, off the record talk, in which he had yet to actually ask you the question — the favor or whatever it was that he claimed to be so ashamed to have to ask you to consider.

The shift in your body language loosened his tongue and out from his chest came the smallest chuckle of amusement.

“I have to admit. I’m a bit disappointed. As a loving father to that kid — that brat. Over the past few months of him working closely with you, I admit I noticed some incredible changes in him and silly me, it actually did get my hopes up a bit. I thought — I hoped there might be something there. Now I fear I’ve been wrong. You’re sending him away and he’s marrying some stranger.”

“And so now here I am — just a pathetic old man coming to a strong and capable and wonderful woman such as yourself, who I’m sure has her share of men to choose from and asking her just to consider him.”

“What exactly are you asking of me?” The longer he went on, the less this felt like a trap. It felt like the carefully trodden steps of a father who loved his son and wanted what was best for him, even at the expense of his own pride.

“Nothing really. You can just turn around and leave and this conversation will have never officially happened, in fact if you are so offended that you wish to file suit for this; I would have it coming and settle immediately. I understand that this is inappropriate of me to ask.”

“Mr. Byun,” you said softly, removing the formal title and addressing him in a way that took a little of the pressure off, “I’m not…offended so much as I am just a bit cautious; yet, I do feel the need to answer you honestly, as difficult as it may be to say. Just to answer your question from earlier, as a man, Baekhyun is just lovely. To me, he is. He is funny and caring and handsome and he was raised right. There is so much to like about him. That much is clear. Any woman, myself included, would be absolutely lucky to have him. Honestly, and this is quite embarrassing to admit to you; but, I’d be lying if I said I’ve never seen him in that way.”

Your words had an effect on the man. You saw the widening of his smile, a genuine grin that reached his eyes and he even went so far as to lightly clap his hands together just once out of happiness. You couldn’t help your own smile even if you did have to look away from him to keep yourself from giving away too much.

“That’s good enough for me. Let me just put it out there. If something should transpire and you happen to steal him away from her…let’s just say I wouldn't be mad about it. We all have our favorites and I don't even know who she is. But I know you and I couldn't sleep at night without at least having said it. I hope you’ll forgive this silly old man for the intrusion.”

“Of course, Mr. Byun.” The smile on your face was as genuine as the endearing words from this man that you’d absorbed straight into your heart.

You said your farewells and as you made it closer to the door, Baekhyun’s father called back to you with his hands to get your attention, making a motion like he was zipping his lips closed and locking them tight with an imaginary key as he gestured toward where his son waited on the other side of that door. The message was clear. Baekhyun shouldn’t know about his father’s plan to get you to steal his affections away from whatever mystery woman he had promised to spend his life with.

You smiled and nodded your head in response, placing a hand over the center of your chest in a promise to the man that his secret was safe with you, you would do your best with your new task, and he could trust you with the minor details of it all.

This was really the best case scenario in every way possible. It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him the truth about you and Baekhun’s relationship right now. After having talked with him, you knew you could trust the man to support you both. But you could tell just how much he was enjoying crafting this scheme of his and you would much rather have him believe he was a relationship mastermind later, than know right now about how inappropriate and unprofessional the mentor/mentee relationship with his son had already been up until this point.

When you pushed the big heavy door open you could hear Baekhyun’s voice as he appeared to be deep in a conversation about pyramids with the president’s secretary.

“…actually in Mexico, in Cholula there’s a pyramid twice the size of the biggest one in Giza, but the problem is it’s buried so it just looks like a big hill. The Spaniards built a church on top of it. But if you’re looking for the oldest pyramids, then definitely Egypt is the place to —,” Baekhyun said; his voice trailing off at the end when he noticed you emerging from the office.

“Hey man, thanks for this.” The secretary said to Baekhyun as he motioned to something on his phone. Gone was the disinterested and blank stare; the man was downright jolly as he looked down at whatever it was Baekhyun had provided.

Clearly your boyfriend was the kind of pyramid expert that you simply were not and you vowed to brush up on several wonders of the world the moment you had a few hours to spare.

The second you were both out of earshot Baekhyun turned to you with bright eyes and a hopeful smile on his face.

“What happened in there? What did you two talk about?”

You bit down on your lips and shrugged your shoulders lightly, avoiding his eyes in favor of finding the ever elusive elevator button to press.

“Umm..” you let your response trail off under the guise of needing every bit of your focus for this task in front of you.

You were extra careful to press it slowly and you did not let up until you were satisfied that the button had been pressed and was lit up in just the right kind of way. You listened carefully, craning your neck a little until the far away sounds of the ascending elevator box could be faintly heard as it made its way up to you.

Beside you, Baekhyun was vibrating with anticipation.

He was a remarkably patient man. You could see his movements out of the corner of your eye as you looked ahead and waited for the elevator.

“Noona,” he barked straight from the center of his chest, the nickname said in the gruffest most annoyed sounding tone you’d ever heard him use with you.

The sound of it pulled your eyes away from that illuminated up arrow on the wall and you looked into his once expecting, and now outright demanding face with his raised eyebrows and parted lips, his arms crossed over his chest and his huffing and puffing breaths through his open mouth. Oh, he was worked up.

“What did he say?”

You pursed your lips and you shook your head back and forth in shallow passes.

“Well…Not…much, really. And nothing bad.” Your staggered words had him reeling and when the elevator doors opened, you stepped inside quickly; standing against the back wall. The very picture of innocence.

“Oh my god. He’s up to something. He’s scheming. I just know it. I don’t trust it. And now you — you won’t even tell me what you two talked about —”

He was going now. Really, really giving into the whiny, put-out mood he’d been in since the confrontational chat with his dad about his love life. You knew you had to give him something just to ease his worries a little bit — if not, to save your eardrums. This was not the place to reveal everything that had been discussed in that top floor office.

“It was just kind of an upper management check-in, Baekhyun. Nothing out of the norm after a project wraps or after a high profile employee, such as yourself,” you motioned with a hand over the length of him, “moves onto another department. I gave you glowing reviews, of course. And I meant every word.”

He had been covering his whole face with his hands when you started speaking. Once you were done declaring the whole father-secret girlfriend talk ‘no big deal’ with a flippant hand wave, you renewed your focus ahead of yourself with a newly formed interest in watching the descending numbers on the elevator’s digital display, Baekhyun’s hands had fully fallen to his side and he was watching your profile with what some might consider a suspicious eye squint.

He did not respond to you in any way. He merely watched your face and you were extra careful to keep your focus on the numbers that any moment now, would halt on your floor and give you an excuse to exit this little box of deceit.

You weren’t cut out for this. Not with him. You couldn't stand not being able to tell him every single thing that happened, and frankly the excitement that was bubbling up inside of your chest threatened to spill out all over his crisp white dress shirt.

Not only did you have his father’s encouragement and blessing, but inside of you, you felt the kind of euphoria one might feel after receiving their very own Presidential Pardon. Which in a way, you kind of did. Ever since you started working closely with Baekhyun, you’d shared nearly everything with him. It didn't even take much for you to spill. He could usually sniff you out based on your body language alone or you would spill the truth of any situation with him simply because he was your ally and if you didn’t share it with him; what even was the point of having a trusty assistant.

After the relationship started it was a no-brainer. You told him everything because you wanted to. You loved him and you wanted him to know the things you knew. You were pretty sure it was mutual because oftentimes you’d catch yourself listening to some long rambling story of his. Him detailing something mundane, while you being completely transfixed just feeling pleasure from the sound of his voice and not even minding that, if you were in your right mind, you would have zero interest in the temperature of the soup served in the work cafeteria or the ratio of noodles to shrimp (it was one. One single, lonely shrimp in the entire bowl of noodles) in today’s stir fry.

You could not lie to Baekhyun. You could only run away.

And run away you tried, the elevator dinged and the doors began to open and you were out of there before those doors had even parted enough for a single, normal person to exit. You squeezed through and your feet were carrying you with a remarkable quickness.

Halfway through your journey away from him, you realized that rushing made you look so much guiltier and by the time you reached your office and pushed your door open, frantic eyes behind you told you that he wasn’t even chasing. In fact, he was taking his time walking in between the cubicles without even the slightest bit of urgency.

Perhaps he just … bought it?

Maybe he actually believed that all you and his father talked about up there was his recent performance as an Assistant.

Of course you would tell him the truth. The moment you both had any significant amount of time together you would spill it. The second you had his pretty face in your sights and his hands inside of your hands; the strands of his hair raked through your fingers and the smell of his warm skin floating over your parted lips as you breathed him in.

You knew it had to wait until you had him alone. You could not trust yourself after you told him this news. You could not be held responsible for what you might do.

The moment you entered your office, you were greeted by the smiling face of Assistant Cha, who up until this very moment you had simply forgotten existed. The surprise of finding her sitting inside your closed up office made you jump and you gasped out in shock at first before you tried to recover as quickly as possible; replacing the look of surprise with a friendly smile and following the startled, “Ahh” with hastily covered up, “Ahh -Ohh—hello…there Assistant Cha.”

It took a good ten seconds to recover and a few deep breaths later you had found some words for the girl.

“Have you been waiting long? Assistant Byun should be around any moment—”

“Sunny, did you finish? Already?” Baekhyun’s voice broke through your words, paired with the sound of your office door being thrust open and you whirled around to see his head poking through the opening and his abrupt words directed at Assistant Cha.

You watched his face, expecting to catch some hidden look from him, perhaps a secret eyebrow raise or at least a bit of that smile but you received none.

His focus was only on Sunny, who was standing with her arms filled with stacks and stacks of papers and a whirlwind of an overwhelmed expression in her eyes.

She received a wide and beautiful smile from him. A sweet reward for all of her efforts.

“Of course you did!” He sang out through the breathtaking smile and he was pushing a rolling chair across the open office, through the open door for her to set the stacks of papers on. He was telling her things like how she could go home early today and how he would likely see her around the building next week and they should maybe do lunch after they get settled into their new roles.

It all felt very purposeful. He was getting rid of the girl. He was getting rid of the only link to reality you’d both desperately clung to all day long, the only thing that so far had worked to keep you both away from each other for long enough for any actual work to get done.

As much as you’d wished for her to leave the two of you alone all day, there was a dryness building in your mouth to watch her leave.

You inhaled a breath through parted lips, swallowed away at nothing, and bit down on your bottom lip, chewing lightly on the flesh held between your teeth and you watched him take two careful steps through the threshold of your office and turn around to close the door behind him quietly.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Whether it was the after affects of keeping the secret for the past probably six hours, or so it felt like — a quick glance at the clock on your wall confirmed that only ten minutes had passed since you’d run away from your boyfriend with your guilt eating you alive from the inside and, Jesus Christ, the realization that you hadn’t even lasted long enough to enjoy a coffee break before you began to self combust was a shocking reality check — whether it was the filthy lie, or the fact that this beautiful man had just closed you both up alone inside of this office after you’d been denied the touch of his hands and the taste of his lips for an entire eight-hour work shift; you did know know which breathtaking effort you were finding more difficult to withstand.

He moved slowly and you swear to god you could hear an overwhelmingly frantic thumping well inside of your ears. The sounds from outside of this private space were cut off with the click of that door and the silence was so very loud.

Baekhyun took his time. He moved with careful and deliberate steps, even pausing his journey through your office to look down and run his fingertips down the length of his necktie, straightening it out and then running hands down the length of his suit jacket, from his broad chest to his cinched waist, smoothing out wrinkles that did not exist.

Your hands gripped each other tightly in the center of your hips and you were thankful that you were already leaning against your desk because you weren’t certain you wouldn’t drop to your knees the moment he stood in front of you.

To beg forgiveness or…

Baekhyun hadn’t spoken to you since he closed the door and at least he seemed to have reached a destination. He sat down on the end of your sofa, closest to where you stood — or leaned — whatever; and at last he turned his face, his big brown eyes looked up into your face and he stared into your eyes without speaking a single word. You closed up your mouth and pulled your arms tight over your chest and lifted your eyebrows in his direction.

In your mind, you liked to think you looked at least a little strong. Maybe a touch formidable. A challenge he would struggle to overcome. Perhaps.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he spoke very suddenly and very softly. Nearly under his breath, “I am annoyed with you right now.”

He did not blink as he said it. His face did not falter.

You held your breath and felt your eyebrows tremble once over your eyes. Swallowing didn’t seem to help much with dryness in your mouth and you nearly couldn’t stand to maintain eye contact with him. You glanced down at the floor once before working up the nerve to look into his face once more.

“Not annoyed enough to matter,” he conceded the moment he had your eyes again. “I’m more amused by this right now. By how uncomfortable you look, Noona. You really cannot lie to me, not even a little bit, can you?”

His lips pulled into a smile the longer he looked at you and you felt every bit of your resolve crumble with the deep sigh that you pulled into your chest and exhaled through your parted lips.

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll tell you.” You said it with your eyes closed and the defeat evident in your tone.

When you opened your eyes he was leaning forward with his forearms resting over his parted knees and he was looking at you with his eyes wide open and his tongue inside of his mouth messing with his teeth. You could see the movement in his jaw. After a few moments he bit down on his lips.

This hopeful and expectant stance had you feeling a certain way. Perhaps just a little bit indignant that he would read you so very easily about every little thing. Were you not allowed to have any secrets from him? Were you not a human being too?

Sure this was directly related to him and directly involved his father and basically his entire life, but the man was just so difficult to keep in the dark about anything.

“For the record, I was going to tell you,” you lifted a hand. It felt like a defensive stance. “I was always going to tell you. I was getting ready,” you emphasized the word, “to tell you.” You closed your lips up and he leaned back on the sofa, swallowing with a visible bob of his throat and blinking his brown eyes slowly at you, “when we were alone.”

“So the talk with your dad went well,” you lifted your eyebrows and looked around the room without any real focus before you danced right back into his eyes. You filled your lungs, feeling like you couldn’t quite get enough air for this.

“We did speak about you — that was the truth. I did report about how you’ll be transferred out next week and how great and awesome and handsome you are — wait. I didn’t say that at first.”

His eyes widened as you stumbled a bit over your words and he ticked his head slightly.

“Noona,” he mumbled, a slight alarm on his voice. You raised a hand to shush the man while you tried your best to put your words together.

“Okay so first, I did give him the report.” You weren't quite sure why you kept returning to this point, but it felt so much safer than the next part of the talk you were desperately trying to just get out of your mouth, while also hoping you didn't actually need to say outloud.

“Second, he asked me to—” you waved a hand around, palm up, shrugging your lips with a little head shake, “asked me to, maybe consider?”

You pulled your lips wide, baring your teeth, “a-asked me to seduce you? And steal you away from this mystery woman you’re going to marry?” The upward inflection definitely made your words sound like several questions and you winced once your own words hit your ears.

You had to cover your own face with your hands.

His mouth had fallen open and his shoulders had sagged as he watched your face with wide brown eyes.

You uncovered your face and he was still staring at you without speaking a word. You were compelled by some unknown force, probably directly related to the insane butterflies that you felt fluttering around inside of your stomach with having to actually say this out loud.

He wasn’t speaking, but boy, were you.

“I don't know? I don't know.” Your eyes were wide enough to pop out of your head. You dropped the hands from your face and felt twitchy all over. A hand returned to covered over your mouth and you felt those same butterflies threatening to burst free.

You felt a small giggle come out of your chest, “he says I’m his favorite. I think I might have told him I found you lovely,” you said through a hopeless laugh, “and attractive too, I definitely said that. I’m pretty sure he believes I am going to take my assignment very seriously, and take that other woman down. I might have only imagined that part. Is it hot in here?” Your skin felt humid. You uncrossed your arms and pulled the suit coat off over your shoulders and tossed it into a heap onto a chair.

Baekhyun had both of his hands covering his open mouth and you heard the first sounds from him in the form of a quiet gasp before he was speaking.

“Noona —” his mouth opened wide but no additional words came out. When he stood up from the sofa it was to wave his hands around in front of himself with a sort of speechless wonder in his eyes, “fucking, WHAT?” He finally exploded with his noisy question, followed by the breathy, humorless laugh of genuine disbelief that broke free from his chest.

“Oh my god.” His body was in motion even though his feet stayed firmly planted in place. This revelation rolled over him from head to toe and he moved from the waves of it. His skin turned flushed and you could see the half amusement half disbelief on his expression. At last his hands lifted to cover his face with another, drawn out, “oh my god, this is so—” His voice grew muffled and from under his hands, out came, “so, so embarrassing. What the hell, Dad?”

His hands lifted. His eyes were wide and that pinkness was still coloring his cheeks, making the flush of his skin look quite pretty and you responded with a wide smile that you had no control over.

He was looking into your face and the movement in him seemed to settle the longer he looked at you. It took a few moments of it for your wide smile to even out and you looked into his face with tiny remnants of that delight returning with tiny twitches at the corners of your lips.

On his face, you witnessed the opposite happening, his embarrassment faded and with the quiet observations of you that he so openly partook in, you saw the first small hints of a smile beginning on his lips. He breathed through an open mouth and his lips pulled incrementally wider with each puff of air from his lungs until a genuine and breathtaking smile colored his beautiful face.

It was your favorite smile on your favorite face belonging to your favorite human being.

“So what is your plan?” he asked. “How will you manage to seduce me?” His eyes dropped slowly over your face to touch on your lips the moment you bit down and pondered this new task of yours.

“Do you think you can really do it?”

“Hmmm…,” you lifted a finger to your chin. His brown eyes followed the movement and his smile widened before he reined it in with an inhale through his nose.

“Well, probably,” you shrugged. “Doesn’t seem that hard to steal you away.”

A laugh broke free from him and he took a step closer to where you stood.

“You sound very confident. What makes you so sure?”

You straightened your spine, lifted your chin, and you took a step, allowing yourself to lean just a bit closer to him and the movement pulled his brown eyes over your face once more. They lingered again down on your lips.

“See,” you said in a whisper. He swallowed and pulled his eyes slowly up into your smug ones, “you’re already thinking about it.”

“What am I thinking about? You and I are just talking,” he said, “besides, I’m going to marry her.”

This had you smiling. You had to turn your face away from him and you lifted your left hand, placing your fingertips over your bottom lip briefly.

“I hear she doesn’t even wear a ring,” you said as you lifted an eyebrow, “can’t be that serious without a ring.”

You were joking of course. It had only been one day. Just last night you��d spontaneously agreed to marry him, and he had, of course, spontaneously asked you as you were both caught up the moment. Your joke had his attention though and you heard a sharp inhale pulled in through his nose.

You caught motion in his mouth as his tongue ran over his teeth and after witnessing the evidence of a few of his internal struggles he broke all eye contact with you and looked somewhere behind you where your office desk was.

“That’s just because she hasn’t looked inside the right drawer of her desk yet.” His eyes pulled back into yours and your mouth flew open in genuine surprise. You gave a small head shake and looked behind toward your desk.

He couldn’t be serious.

The little bubble that was this little charade popped in an instant and you looked into his face. He had the smallest smile there.

“Are you kidding me right now?” You were back to yourself; taking a step to walk away from him so you could round the side of your desk. You pulled at the desk drawer handle, finding the upper smaller drawer completely empty save for a few flat documents in yellow folders. You gave a little whine from the back of your throat and closed it up.

Baekhyun’s face was blank now; completely devoid of any clues as to what sort of a trick he was playing on you.

Your curiosity had grown to be too much and you reached lower, having to bend at the waist to pull the bigger bottom drawer open and inside sat a small bag; a strikingly familiar bag; the same bag he had been carrying with him when he came back from lunch and had received a delivery from one of your favorite bakeries down the corner.

You grabbed the bag and peered down inside, seeing one very delicious looking chocolate cake slice in a completely clear plastic clamshell container without anything else at all concealed inside the bag.

A motion to your side nagged at your focus and a sensation that gripped ahold of your empty left hand pulled your face out of this bakery bag with nothing more than a slice of cake and you searched for him for any clues at all about what he was playing at.

What you felt was something small pressed with his fingertips into the palm of your left hand; something cold and metal and heart fluttering.

You felt him lean into you then; the warmth of him touched your cheek and his lips pressed lightly against your earlobe as you heard the rasp of his lungs as he inhaled to speak to you.

“Excuse me, I think you dropped this,” he said into your ear and inside your hand he left a ring behind. You felt the trembling in your limbs as you lifted your hand to see it and you had to place the bakery bag down on your desk because it was rattling in your grip.

With your left hand lifted and cradled by your right hand you held the precious little thing up to your face; somehow not quite convinced you weren’t actually dreaming right now. Sure you knew he had asked you and yes you had agreed but there was a different more certain emotion that was bubbling up inside of your chest right now as you looked down at the sparkling diamond and you couldn’t help the tiny question that broke from your lips, “Baekhyun are you serious? This is mine?”

He was moving then. He reached for the ring with his fingertips and his other hand gently gripped your left hand and turned it over and you watched as he slid the diamond into your ring finger. It was beautiful. The center stone was enormous and the trailing diamonds that lined the band threw sparks as you moved your hand. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the undeniable sparkle and opulence that you saw in this thing. You didn’t even want to imagine how much he had paid for this. It was so much more that you had even anticipated

“When did you even get this? We’ve been together all day and even all night; how did you do this?”

“Don’t ask me how long I’ve had it, or how long I’ve been carrying it with me,” he said as he watched your face. Inside his eyes you were caught in a myriad of emotions that were clear and evident. You were captured by the sincerity with which he spoke these words to you.

It took what was left of your breath away, “Just know that for as long as I’ve known of your existence in this world, you have been the one. I was always going to marry you. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life, as I am about you.”

[to be continued]

Links: Part 1, … Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic

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svtminghaolove · 1 year

Text

You’re having trouble sleeping - Hip hop unit (SVT)

Hello agaaaaain~ I finished this one pretty fast actually, was not expecting that but here it is (;

Triggers: Swears

S.Coups: School was freaking you the fuck out. It hadn't gone that well lately and basically your whole tuition was hanging on a test you had done a week ago, one that you was about 97% certain that you had failed. This had caused you to lay awake at night, all kinds of scenarios going through your head: What if you can't pay your rent? Would you have to drop out? Get another job? Return back home? It gave you no peace of mind and as soon as you closed your eyes you could feel the tears of stress burn behind your eyelids.

The fact that you hadn't been seeing Seungcheol for a while didn't really help either. He had been away for a few days for filming a music video and had even been hard to reach by phone. But today was the day he was coming back and he had planned to go straight to your place, but it was pretty late on a school night so he sent away a text to check first.

'Are you awake? Can I come over?'

'Yes. Please do.'

He frowned at your short answer, it wasn't rude or anything but it just sounded… weird, not like you would usually write to him.

He drove over to your place and was quick going up to your apartment door. He barely knocked two times before you opened the door, eyes red and lips dry. Your lips quivered as you set your eyes on Seungcheol and his eyes went wide.

"y/n, what happened? Are you okay?", you didn't answer him and just stepped out in the corridor, and leaned into his chest, letting silent tears fall. He almost found the silent tears more disturbing than if you had cried your heart out.

"… y/n?", he said softly as he put his arms around you and backed you into the apartment. "Hey babe, are you okay?", he closed the door behind him and you shook your head.

"I can't sleep", your voice was raspy and heavy. A voice that Seungcheol was very familiar with since he himself sounded like that from time to time.

"Want to talk about it?", you shook your head again, not even aware of the fact that Seungcheol was slowly backing you into the bedroom.

"Just… school is freaking me the fuck out", you whispered and he just hummed as an answer, the soft vibration from his chest making you close your eyes. You were by this point so out of reality and focused on him that you didn't realize that you were laying down until he pulled away.

"Where are you going?", you sat up as he stepped back.

"I'm just going to get ready for bed, I'll be quick", he said softly and kissed you on the temple before going into the bathroom for a few minutes.

You sat up in bed, listening to the water running until he came back. He gave you a soft smile when he saw you sitting on the bed, not saying anything as he climbed into bed next to you. He opened his arms and you laid down with your head resting on his chest. His heartbeat made everything around you just disappear and when he started humming it was like this was all that existed. The vibrations coated your skin and forced your muscles to relax.

"You know that I'll always be here right? If school is too much you can take a break.", he whispered but by that point you were already half way to dreamland.

Wonwoo: It had been two night without sleep, three days without sleep. You had a deadline for a writing project soon and where nowhere near done, which meant that you couldn't sleep but you needed to sleep but the work got you so stressed out so you couldn't. It was just… a mess, you were a mess all couped up in you study.

Since you didn't live with Wonwoo, he hadn't seen most of it and just thought that you were working, but when you didn't show up for a date the two of you had planned and only got a "sorry, work" as an explanation, he went to your place. He had the key so he just went inside, it was completely dark in the apartment, except from the small light coming from your study. He softly knocked on the door but when he got no response he opened.

"y/n?", you didn't answer but he saw you hunched over your desk, paper all over the floor and the laptop pushed to the side.

"y/n? Are you okay?", he went forward and put a hand on your shoulder, only to feel it shaking. "Are you crying? y/n, is everything alright?", he turned around your chair and you let out a sob as you leaned your forehead against his stomach.

"I can't write", you sobbed and he stoked your back, trying to size up the situation.

"Okay, let's take a break then.", you pulled back from him and brushed away the hair from your forehead. That was when he noticed the rings under your eyes were so dark they almost looked like bruises.

"I can't, I don't have the time.", he knelt down and pulled the chair closer when you tried to push away.

"When is the last time you slept?", you sighed.

"Don't you get it? I can't sleep! I don't have the time and if I try to sleep I just stress out of how little time I have and if I don't sleep I just sit here staring onto a empty screen waiting to be filled with ideas that I don't have!", the tears started to flow and you started to hiccup. He could barely keep up with your disarrayed thoughts and it hurt him to see you this way.

Wonwoo placed his arms around you and you laid yours around his neck, pressing your face into his shoulder.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

"I can't sleep", you hiccuped and he hummed as he carried you to the bedroom. On the way he picked up a random book laying on the shelf, and it unexpectedly turned out to be a children's book for one of your nieces or nephews.

"Alright, come here", he put you down on the bed, laying down next to you. You crawled up on his side and he turned on the reading light and opened the book.

"You're reading me a children's book?", you asked, slightly amused.

"Hush, just close your eyes and listen", he placed his free arm around you and you rested your head on his chest.

He began reading the book (mind you one that's meant for a three year old) and you closed your eyes. You listen to the combination of his heartbeat and his hushed voice and after a while your tears stopped flowing and the hiccup disappeared. You relaxed and your body molded itself to his and before you knew it, you fell asleep to your boyfriend reading a children's book to you.

Mingyu: It was the day before they were going away for a tour. Or well, the night before. He was leaving tomorrow night, when you were still asleep. It was the first time he was going on tour since the two of you got together and you just felt a bit unsettled, which made you unable to fall asleep. At first you had tried to fall asleep next to Mingyu but after about two hours you enough and quietly climbed out of bed and into the living room. You just sat down on the couch, staring out the window. There was a million thoughts going through your head at the same time as it felt like you were thinking about nothing.

"What are you doing awake?", Mingyu slumped down next to you in the couch, letting his head fall into your lap.

"Can't sleep", you were really tired to be honest.

"Why?", you went quiet for a moment at the question, just letting your fingers comb through his hair. He took your hand and pressed his lips to your palm. "y/n?"

"I don't know exactly why, I just feel… uneasy whenever I think of you going away on tour", he raised a brow and smiled.

"Because you'll miss me?", you rolled your eyes and lightly slapped his forehead.

"Yeah, I'll miss you", you sighed. "… A lot. I'll miss you a lot", you looked out the window again.

"I'll miss you too", he kissed your palm again. "We'll talk everyday, you can call me in the middle of the night if you have to", you shook your head.

"You won't forget me, right?", you joked, but even Mingyu knew that it wasn't completely meant as a joke.

"Never.", he said and sat up. "You're not really afraid of that are you?"

"… no. Yes?", you let out a dry laugh. "No. I know you won't forget me it's just… a weird thought. A what if thing that clung to me.", he placed his arms around your shoulders and pulled you closer to him.

"I love you, with my whole heart and if you ever leave me I would cry for ten years", you laughed and hugged him back. "I'll never forget you, I'll call you so much that you'll block my number."

"Okay", you closed your eyes, the sleepiness finally falling over you. "I love you too", you yawned and he pulled back.

"So, ready for sleep now?", you nodded and then the two of you went back to bed, limbs and all interwined.

Vernon: It was during a time that you had so much work and too few hours on the day, so you sleep was the first thing to go. At first it was only cutting back a few hours but when you realized that sleeping a few hours made you even more tired than not sleeping at all, well you stopped sleeping. And when you finally had the time to start sleeping again, your body just wouldn't let you. Every time you were about to fall asleep it was like a warning bell went off in you and you sat straight up in the bed.

Vernon, of course noticing your sudden movements happening multiple times, asked you what was going on but you had just brushed it off. But it was even more concerning when he realized that you stopped coming to bed at all.

One night he woke up in the middle of the night to what sounded like a pot hitting the floor. He figured out pretty quickly that it was you when you weren't in bed next to him, but he had no idea what you were doing in the kitchen at four in the morning.

"y/n?", he asked, voice raspy from sleep and hair all over the place as he walked into the kitchen to find you over the stove.

"Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?", you sounded completely exhausted and the smile on your face didn't hide the dark rings under your eyes.

"What you doing?", you turned back to the stove.

"Heating up some milk, you want some? It's my mom's secret recipe", you turned back to him with a smile. "It's cinnamon, the secret", he scoffed add walked over to you.

"Want to tell me?", your smiled dropped at his words.

"You noticed?", he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Hard not to.", he softly squeezed you in his arms. "So, want to tell me?"

"… My body just jolts awake every time I'm about to sleep. It's like when you're deep asleep and the alarm rings in the morning, every time I try to sleep", you sighed and leaned back into him. You felt how everything just wanted to shut down and fall asleep but you just couldn't.

"Okay, let's watch a movie", you rolled your eyes but nodded.

You poured up two cups of the heated milk and went over to the couch where Vernon had piled up with pillows and blankets, holding out his arms to you. You sat down in his arms and he bundled up the two of you before taking his cup. You were half laying down in his arms, getting yourself comfy as he turned on the movie.

"The Grinch? Really?", you laughed and took a sip from your cup.

"You always manage to fall asleep to it on Christmas", you laughed and softly jabbed him with your elbow before getting cozy in his arms.

But Vernon was right, you always did fall asleep during The Grinch. And when he noticed your head starting to lull backwards he took the cup from your hands and placed it next to his on the small table next to the couch.

"Works like a charm", he smiled and carefully picked you up to carry you to bed.

-----

Masterlist

-----

Taglist: @foxdaisy @pearlygraysky @cixrosie @thmrdrs

#svt #seventeen #svt imagine #seventeen imagine #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt preferences #seventeen preferences #svt fic #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x female reader #seventeen x female reader #svt hip hop unit #seventeen hip hop unit

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rin-and-jade · 5 months

Text

Oops.. I’ve Lost Track.. : A Post about Unintended Time Traveling

Have you ever mistook that today’s thursday and not a wednesday even if you’re so sure? Have you ever wondered why time flies so fast while nothing’s done for the day? Or maybe when those “five more minutes” promises turned into hours until its too late?

Then you might have problems with keeping track, managing, and predicting how long it takes to do something,, this is called time blindness. Which is common among neurodivergent folks.

So it was time travel..?

Surely, but not as fun as how movies convey them. Time blindness can affect people in different ways, such as:

Losing track of days, hours, or to minutes; not being aware how long it has been.

Have a faster/slower sense of internal clock. Meaning, minutes can feel like hours or vice versa.

Problems being on time to appointments, events, and etc; due to faulty predictions on how long it takes for something, such as dressing up or driving to the location.

Trouble remember when was the last time you ate a meal and drank water.

Over-focusing on a specific task/ interest and miss a huge chunk of your routine (compensating or catching up).

And more..

It often affects people with ADHD; but not always limited to autism, depression, anxiety disorders, OCD, bipolar, CDD, and even a byproduct of constant stress itself!

For the plurals out there:

There’s it’s own set of experiences + the addition of the general ones before, such as:

Time looks disoriented due to switching and lost sense of chronological anchor (can’t remember the previous moments to make sense how long time has gone by).

What happened long ago e.g. 1 month, felt like it happened last week. Vice versa.

Alters perceiving sense of time in different, varying speeds.

And, with the addition of CDD’s high comorbidity with other conditions that may worsen time blindness.

Systems can have a harder time due to the existing amnesia barriers that fragments memories, and sometimes this can be super stressful to deal with--but fret not! For whoever needs some tips, i gotchu.

What should i do??

Let's get straight to the point, here's the steps:

Create a routine. If you're prone to missing work or leisure due to it, or need to get things done on time,, having a planned schedule or routine will be the most important part. You can do this in any way preferred, for example, sticking to a 7-day plan that has your school/work/breaks in it already,, or if you're sporadic, you can pre-plan what to do for the day and jot them down as the goal.

Make use of accommodations. Set designated alarms,, maybe for your meals, or hydration reminders, or if you don't want to overshoot that gaming session. Putting clocks that can be visible in your vision also can help keeping you on track. Create checklists to keep track of your chores or whatnot. Maybe write down notes on today's progress, anything with your own creativity!

Break work into smaller steps to ease up. Sometimes procrastination can accompany time blindness, leaving us to do 0 work until its near deadline or the day is almost over, separating the tasks to smaller bits and do them in pieces on your own pace. And sometimes your focus is prone to wander to places if the task is too long or tedious/boring, so this also helps.

Be aware of which activities you're prone to forget time. List or remember them so whenever you wanted to hop back in a special interest, actively remind yourself beforehand and you may make use of number 2.

Lastly, commit to it. This is where all the magic is at, and there will still be days where it tumbles apart and you miss a couple of things.. don't worry, we all are never perfect, there'll always be a day or two where everything's messy and miss that deadline or other stuffs. You haven't failed, keep going.

I hope this could serve you hope that your time blindness is 100% manageable, this post is for every neuro-spicy folks (and systems) out there who's struggling with it,, and i hear your struggles! Feel free to add on your experience or engage with the post if you have any further questions.

(This post is applicable to everyone in need)

- j

#did #actually did #did community #sysblr #plural #system stuff #adhd #neurodiversity #time blindness #autism #jeducates

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telomeke-bbs · 10 months

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Okay, not (quite) anonymous any more, but still not (that) active yet. With all the recent discussion of episode 5 and the rooftop scene, I think I've yet to see analysis of 5 [4/4] 9:06-9:13, from when Pran says "We're not even friends" to when Pat says "That's right." Of course, we didn't know it on first viewing, but based on what we learn later from episode 12 [4/4] 12:58-13:54, what Pran says must have hurt. And we see it in Pat/Ohm's reaction. I'd love to see that deconstructed.

Hi @pandasmagorica! 😍 Sorry this reply is so late; I was struggling with my post about OS2 x BBS x ATOTS and also some work deadlines.

With regard to the Ep.5 rooftop, I must agree with you that Pran's comment "We're not even friends" must really have stung for Pat.

By this point he'd been totally swept away in the rush of his new-found feelings that he also knew were returned. But Pran, contrarian as ever, was vehemently denying the existence of closeness to his face. And to deny that they were even friends when they had actually been so close and affectionate behind the scenes before must have felt like a gut punch to Pat, who was laying himself so bare and vulnerable here.

For almost all of Ep.5 we watched as Pat sank deeper and deeper into the disorientating realization that he had somehow fallen in love with his supposed rival. And he must have been pushed so close to the brink of despair by the swell of these anguished, bottled emotions that he couldn't wait even a second longer than necessary to confess it all to Pran (which of course is quite in character for our open-hearted boy).

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.5 [4/4] 1.18

This was why he waited up for Pran down at the base of their block, drunk as he was, so as not to miss his return. And when he was prevented – by Wai's presence – from expressing all that was churning within him, of course he couldn't contain that pressure and it all erupted into a brawl.

But Pat on the rooftop is now showered and clearheaded, and once again focused on his task of confessing all to Pran.

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.5 [4/4] 7.45

Unfortunately, as before, Pran is unaware of Pat's true feelings and is expecting their usual jostling, competitive dynamic to be the framework of their exchange. And so Pran continues to toss barbs at Pat, thinking he'll find some way to lob them back as he'd always done before.

And in a sense he does, but Pat's energy is different now. For him it's not a game anymore and the usual teasing impishness that we saw so much of in preceding episodes (and at the start of Ep.5 too) is gone.

This scene is also a callback to (and a parallel with) Ep.3 [4/4] 6.09 – in the corridor there, Pran had been so moved by Pat's generosity and help with the bus‑stop that he decided to dial back on the rivalry and was wanting to take things to the next level.

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.3 [4/4] 6.51

This was the motivation behind his seemingly off-the-cuff "Have you eaten?" at Ep.3 [4/4] 7.20 – he was wanting to interact with Pat socially instead of as a competitor (see this write-up linked here for more analysis). Before this, the only other time we'd seen them at a meal together was at the wonton noodle stall (Ep.3 [1I4] 6.20), and it only happened by accident (and Pat soon turned it into a chopstick battle anyway) so I like to think Pran was wanting a romantic do-over in Ep.3 [4/4] by asking Pat out for a meal.

But there in the corridor Pat only seemed to want more of their usual relationship dynamic (more gameplay), and he signaled this with another of his bait-and-switch moves, lulling Pran with the return of his guitar and then saying "I just like to see your face… when you lose."

Here on the rooftop the tables have turned. In the corridor of Ep.3 [4/4] Pran was left resigned with Pat's unchanging focus on their rivalry (and yet maybe still relieved that they could continue their relationship, even if it was based on competition). But on the rooftop it's now Pat – all ready to bare his soul – who is thwarted and exasperated by Pran instead.

During the fight scene we already saw Pat getting annoyed at Pran (who was operating in their default mode of pretending to be bitter enemies). And he retaliated with a refusal to play along, turning snarky when Pran said "Why? Is it so hard to accept defeat?" at Ep.5 [4/4] 2.41. Pat's snide response "Defeated by that lousy song. Why would I feel anything?" landed like a slap too (though Pran couldn't have felt it, unlike Pat and us viewers who knew the truth behind his sarcasm). Because of course Pat had his heart torn to shreds when he finally understood that the song Just Friend? was really about Pran's unrequited love for him, and was now speaking to his feelings for Pran in return.

So on the rooftop Pat – perhaps annoyed at having to delay the confessing of his own truths – calls out the double-sidedness of Pran's comment and laces his response with more sarcasm and layers of unspoken meaning. His skewed, sardonic smile when he says "That's right" is a mix of sadness and derision, a colloid of contrasts ironically just like the relationship that they've always known – a forced mix of enmity and friendship, a combination of two opposites that will never truly meld.

If we're being generous, it's possible to read that Pran intended his "We're not even friends" to mean something like they're not allowed to be friends in the fullest sense of the word, in front of society and the world at large, even though they were always friends behind the scenes. But what Pat does is to take the literal meaning of this and flip it on its head.

They're both aware that their illicit friendship exists, but it's a friendship that dare not speak its name because of outside disapprobation. Pat's answer in the affirmative also snorts cynically, not just at Pran's surface denial, but also at their pitiless circumstances that don't allow them ever to be seen in front of others as anything besides bitter rivals.

And this is why he goes on to list why others might think they're not friends – in spite of the fact that (for all intents and purposes, except for how their relationship is presented to the world) – they actually are:

"How can we be friends when our parents despise one another?"

"How can we be friends if we live next door to each other yet can't even talk?"

"How can we be friends if we have to compete against one another in everything?"

But just like his sarcastic "That's right" and the cynicism of his mirthless smile, his words here are rhetorical, and are meant to highlight the opposite of what they seem to be saying – because his list is only made up of obstacles to friendship, but not reasons for enmity.

Their parents' mutual hostility, the ban on communicating with the boy next door, the enforced competition – these were constraints imposed on their friendship, but in themselves are no foundation or justification for any kind of animosity between them. And early on, little Pat and Pran found ways to get around the barriers and become firm friends in all but name, because there was never any justifiable reason for them not to be so.

Pat is calling Pran out here; he's telling Pran that he's just repeating what they'd been told since childhood, but the two of them, despite having drifted apart after Pran was sent away – they know better. And he's also calling for an end to the verbal gameplaying, and for them to face their truths.

Because after each rhetorical question is the silent, unspoken answer that BOTH know to be true:

"How can we be friends when our parents despise one another?" "But we ARE friends…"

"How can we be friends if we live next door to each other yet can't even talk?" "But we found a way around it…"

"How can we be friends if we have to compete against one another in everything?" "The competition was never a barrier to us ACTUALLY becoming friends…"

He's using rhetoric and sarcasm to illustrate that they weren't allowed to be friends and they've been conditioned not to call themselves that – but it doesn't change the truth about their friendship.

And I think Pran hears him loud and clear – despite what the world's been telling them all their lives, they are close and they have been friends, which is why there's a discernible softening on Pran's part.

I think Ohm did a fantastic job in Ep.5, heaving onto his shoulders the weighty stone that was also BBS's glowing heart, when it was Nanon doing all the heavy emotional lifting in the first four episodes. You can see what Pat is going through – but just in case you want further insight regarding his inner turmoil, BBS actually lets us in on a little more info.

Pat's audition as Riam in Ep.7 [4/4] 5.26 was also a play-by-play repetition of the Ep.5 rooftop scene, but Pat/Riam verbalizes his feelings a bit more directly, and adds further dimension to our understanding of Pat's motivations while on the rooftop.

(above) Bad Buddy Ep.7 [4/4] 5.26

Using Riam's voice, what he says in Ep.7 [4/4] cuts out all of his previous rhetoric, and instead speaks plainly of his weariness with the gameplay and of his willingness to give it up (repudiating his playful corridor self of Ep.3 [4/4]):

"I’m tired. Tired of pretending to hate you while your face has taken over my heart. Aren’t you tired too?... Let’s stop it. I don’t want to play this game anymore. I don’t want to lie to people anymore. You asked if I still wanted us to be friends. What if my answer is no? What do you say?"

Part of why Ep.5's rooftop scene hits so hard is not just because Pran walking away embodies the loss of a romantic story that could have been. It hits also because we see just how far battle-weary Pat has come, on a rollercoaster journey of grappling with emotions (over the course of just one episode) that Pran had taken years to integrate as part of his reality.

The loss is all the greater because we see how much it cost them to get to this point. For Pat it meant dismantling his worldview and lifelong sense of self as Pran's rival in every respect – and yet he was willing to cast it all aside, after recognizing the truth underlying his closeness to Pran.

As BBS is also an allegory for the lives of queer people, all the rumination around "friends who are not friends" here (also calling out to Pat's favorite among all of Pran's personally-scented tees) parallels how closeted LGBTQ+ relationships are often not allowed to speak their truth to wider society.

But while the allegorical message may speak to us intellectually, I think it gets drowned out by the molten magma at the searing core of this scene on the rooftop, which communicates directly – deafeningly – with the heart. All intellectual preoccupations aside, it's also just two young, would-be lovers stumbling through a conversation where so much is unknown and so much has yet to be said, trying to find the truth of their relationship in the maze of all the semantics – which is what many of us who have had to navigate young love must have experienced at some point.

Some of us get beyond the maze and fall into the truth behind the words straightaway. Others, like Pat and Pran, will have to take a little longer to get there. But as they ultimately demonstrate, it's always worth the journey when your erstwhile "friend" (or "enemy") turns out to be your soulmate instead. 💖

#bad buddy #bad buddy rooftop #patpran #pat napat jindapat #pran parakul siridechawat

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no-pilots-please · 2 years

Text

The Interruption

Part I: The Dry Spell

Part II: The Dinner Date

WARNINGS: Angst to fluff. Mentions of sex. Swearing. Mentions of death.

. . . .

Admiral Kasinsky had died. Unlike some of his colleagues at Top Gun, Hangman had been part of the Pacific fleet for quite some time. He had known the Admiral and worked under him for six years now, and felt the loss was a great man gone too soon. The funeral was on a Sunday. Hangman donned his dress whites. He stood at attention, saluted, and played his role as lieutenant.

The image of Maverick pinning wings into his coffin causes him to lose sleep.

In the following weeks, Hangman is angry. Too many thoughts about his career, his life, and his future swim through his head. Overshadowing them is the constant cloud of the mission. Cyclone tried to change the mission parameters, which Maverick took personally, and rightfully so. The grown men's egos went to battle. Maverick won-of course he did. Jake would never speak the words aloud, but Pete Mitchell was the best pilot he'd ever met. Better than him. Mav could make the run. Hangman knew he could make it too.

But that image of Maverick punching a pin into Iceman’s coffin jars his thoughts when he’s trying to focus. Iceman died a husband, father, hero, accomplished high ranking officer of the US Navy, a legend in his own right. But with that comes the sacrifices he asked his family to make, putting the job above them even when it was hard. At some point, he ranked out of flying and became the man giving the orders instead of taking them.

Maverick had been serving just as long as Iceman. He was dedicated heart and soul to flying, at the expense of everything else. No promotions, no wife, no children. Hell, not even a dog. Mav was married to aviation. No outside distractions existed. He was a man with the singular focus it took to be the absolute best. Period.

Did Hangman want to be Iceman, or Maverick? Did he even want to be either?

Why was it your voice in his head that seemed to ask him these questions?

. . . .

8:22pm on Wednesday. Your phone buzzes with a text from Hangman.

I'm coming over.

You looked at the work in front of you, then took a brief survey of how much more time you needed to get it done.

YOU: Not free tonight. Let's get together this week?

HANGMAN: I'm on my way.

YOU: I'm busy.

HANGMAN: Be there in 20

From your position at your desk-kitchen table workspace, you throw your phone against the couch and sigh in frustration. The past three weeks had been really fun, meeting for drinks or dates and hooking up whenever you got a free evening. You were having all sorts of very satisfying orgasms with the absurdly good looking pilot, but that's really all it was. As much as the pilot had begged for a continual ego-check on that Sunday night dinner, he didn't seem to be taking that seriously. Nothing seemed to get through as much as your take-charge moment that first night together. Was he even interested in keeping himself grounded? You had to wonder. So far he only responded when he was checked in the bedroom. Your frustration with his "me-first" attitude was coming to a head tonight. You were buried in work on a Wednesday night, desperately trying to make a deadline for the following day. There was no time for Hangman.

For a while, you ignored the buzzing of the phone against the sofa cushions. You could not ignore the heavy knock on your front door.

Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly open the front door, one hand on your hip.

"I said it's not a good time, Jake."

"I need to talk to you." he interjects, suddenly standing up straight when you open the door. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a matching grey sweatshirt, military issue workout gear. You'd realized over the past few weeks he didn't have too many civilian clothes. He'd packed light. It was a constant reminder that his time here was temporary.

"You need to let me in-" his voice rings deeply, more urgent. The tone, you realized, is as rehearsed as the smirk he wears when he wants something. Part of the persona of Hangman the Pilot. It sets you off.

"First of all, asshole, this is my home. I don't take orders, you have no rank here. This isn't the Navy." Your own voice is stern. Steady, even, cold. You don't move.

"What could you possibly be busy with right now? Wait- is someone else here?" He asks, eyes narrowing. Jealousy rises in his throat, his eyes darting between you and the sliver of the home he can see inside.

"First off, its none of your fucking business why I can't be at your beck and call. Im not your girlfriend, Jake. And, even if I was, I wouldnt just drop everything at a moments notice. I've got a major deadline tomorrow and I'm behind. I don't have time tonight." You know you don't owe him an explanation, but you give him one anyway. His lips part, as if hung up on the next thing to say. The ego check he's been needing slips from you before you realize.

"You're not the only one with work stress."

As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel a little bad. Your work was very important to you, and very important to the company it was for. But it wasn't national security. It wasn't life and death. But for Jake, it's exactly what he needed to hear. It's as if you took the wind out of his sails. His shoulders soften and his he takes a deep breath.

"You're right. I'm not. I'm sorry." He says, stepping back towards the edge of your porch, hands in his pockets. He looks for a long moment at your scowling expression as you guard the door. Once again, the woman before him is not taking any of his shit and making it known loud and clear. The ego check he needs. A smile, the genuine one, plays slightly across his face. "See; this is why I like you."

You aren't letting him off that easy. He thinks hes having a moment of real feelings, but from where you stand it just looks like charm dialed up to 10. "What do you really want, Jake?" Your own posture softens, opening the door wider. He can see a stack of papers and the blue glow of your monitors at the kitchen table. It's a glimpse into your life, you as a person, that hits him square in the chest. You weren't just a woman who existed just to serve his needs. You existed in places that had nothing to do with him. You had your own challenges.

Suddenly, he thinks he should go.

You can see in his expression that he's wrestling with something.

"I just...I need to get out of my head. Today sucked. I thought-I hoped-you could distract me. I needed to get off base." Jake's voice is even, but there is unrest in the way he shrugs and shifts his weight from foot to foot. He gestures to the workspace behind you as he continues. "You've got your own things going on though, I see that. Sorry. I'll get going."

"Jake." You stop him as he sets foot down the steps. He glances over his shoulder, somehow looking incredibly handsome despite the harsh yellow light from your porch. It highlights the high points of his features and lights his green eyes.

"If--if you need to get out of 'the bubble', you can come in and just chill. So long as you don't distract me."

You've taken to calling the environment of Top Gun as a whole "the bubble". Those pilots were eat-sleep-breathing training and the mission. Hangman had said it was the best environment in the world for making the best on the planet. Why did he need to get out of there right now? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Yeah? I won't. I'll just watch some Netflix and veg on the couch. You wont even know I'm here. Promise."

He's impossible not to notice, you think. Somehow even the grey sweatsuit cannot hide the physique underneath. Even the bad lighting cannot undo his looks. But he wont get that ego boost from you, not after his outburst. "Okay. Come on in."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He reaches out to wrap you in a tight hug. It was uncharacteristic of your relationship so far. You were intimate, but you weren't really affectionate. Not the pair to hold hands or cuddle on the couch. Witty banter over drinks or dinner, and hot sex afterwards was more your speed. Something was not right.

Unfortunately, you didn't have the time to press. You gripped his back and returned the hug, and shut the door behind him. Jake shuffled off his shoes and flopped down on your couch with a heavy groan. You took back your seat at the makeshift desk and watched as he clicked through Netflix. Some Will Ferrell comedy flicks up on the screen as the pilot started half-watching and he scrolling through the phone. You placed your headphones in and continued to work, happy that Jake was again making good on his promise.

Over the next two hours you shared the space together, but separately. You were cranking through your work and putting the finishing touches on the deliverable. At some point, Jake helped himself to a seltzer from your fridge and politely interrupted you to ask if he could have some of the leftover pizza he saw in there. You nod and offer a slight smile, placing the headset back on and continuing to type away.

Jake goes onto your back porch to take a call. You can't help but notice how the warmth goes right out of your apartment. Working overtime hunched at your desk was way more enjoyable when he was sprawled out on your couch, laughing at the movie on TV. You were still sort of mad at him, intruding on you like your life wasn't as important as his was. But you knew something wasn't right and you couldn't help but worry about him.

You hit send on that final deliverable at 10:14pm. Jake was still outside on the phone. Peering through the glass of your patio door, you could see the pilot shaking his head, a solemn expression on his face. You made the decision not to disturb him. Padding towards the bathroom, you decided to settle in for the night. Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you wonder what has gotten the aviator so worked up.

His large frame appears in your bathroom doorway. "Hey." His voice is gravelly, tired.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I was on the phone with my cousin, talking through my existential crisis."

There it was, admission from Mr. CalmCoolCollected that something was deeply bothering him. You were glad that he got to talk to someone about it. But why did he come here?

"Okay." You say softly as you pat your face dry. Gently, you press the hot cloth to your eyes, tired and sore from straining at the monitor the past 14 hours.

"Look, I'm sorry about barging in on you like this. It wasn't right of me. I'm not your responsibility. I was just...I am having a hard time. I didn’t know what to do."

You nod at the pilot as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to sooth his own frustration. Looking into his eyes, you place a gentle hand to his shoulder.

"Thank you for apologizing. Do you want to talk about it? Is that why you came here?"

Eyes divert your gaze as he glances to your hand on his shoulder and then to the floor. You were being way too sweet to him after he was a complete ass. He shakes his head.

"No. Not tonight. I've burdened you enough with my shit today."

"Well, you're here now. We can talk if you want."

You're looking up at him, hair in a messy bun and not a stitch of makeup on your face, and he can't help but lift his gaze from the floor to you. Hangman fights the desire to wrap you in a tender embrace and just kiss you in the bathroom doorway, but he thinks better of it. Stuffing his hands into his pockets to give them something to do, he returns his gaze to the floor as he sidesteps to let you back into the hallway.

"I just...my contract is up next year. And I don't know what I'm going to do."

The words still you.

“Jake. You did not come over to my apartment demanding I drop everything because you aren’t sure what decision you are going to make in a year.”

“Yeah. Kinda. It’s just a lot.” Is all he can offer, suddenly embarrassed. It’s a rare emotion for the lieutenant.

Pivoting suddenly in the hallway, you reach out and lock your hand around his wrist. His eyes go wide but he obediently follows you the the apartment. Tugging him through the apartment, you take him to the living room and basically force him to sit on the couch. Taking a seat opposite him, you cross your legs and your arms.

“Don’t be all ‘oh, its not your problem’ because you came over to my place after I told you not to and made it my problem. You have my attention. Jake Seresin, talk.”

The blond leans back dramatically on your couch. You can’t help but admire the way even his neck is muscular and masculine, sexual even, as he throws his head against the back of the couch. The thought is not appropriate. He takes a deep sigh and just starts talking, jarring you from your thought.

“The admiral died.” he starts. As Jake continues, the thoughts tumble from his mouth as he sorts through everything in his brain. You pick out several gems like “I’m like, really good at the single life” “Maverick lives in a hanger, for gods sake.” and “I’m the only modern pilot to shoot down another plane.” Slowly, as the words pour out, they being to paint a picture of a man at a crossroads in his life. He was at the top of his game, the top of his career field among a bunch of other elites. What was next? He didn’t know, and it scared him. You could tell.

Jake continues prattling on, body animated as if working out the energy he’s been containing all week. Nodding as you listen, you move towards the kitchen and he follows, rambling along. You run the kettle and prepare two mug of warm tea. The aviator, leaning against your countertop, quiets as you hand him a mug of lavender chamomile tea.

“Just...drink. It’ll help you calm down.” You encourage him, as he raises the mug to his nose and inhales the scent.

“You’re really too nice to me, you know.” His smile crinkles his eyes softly. Damn, he was so handsome. Even at the edge of an existential crisis wearing grey sweatpants, you couldn’t help but admire the man in your living room. He seemed so comfortable here, and for a brief moment you imagine what it would be like waking up every morning to him here in your kitchen.

Don’t catch feelings.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Seresin.” Is the best you can do, ignoring your better judgement to give him any complement.

He chuckles. Taking a long, calming sip of the tea, he looks at you. “Am I crazy?”

“I don’t know, Jake. I wish I could help but, I just don’t know anything about this.” What could you tell this man you’d only known three weeks? You had barely known him when he showed up on your front porch a few hours ago, but the last half hour or so of Jake spilling his thoughts and insecurities on your couch made you feel like you did. Gazing at him softly, you rub your eyes, fighting sleep that is creeping in.

“You did. Thank you.” Jake finishes his mug of tea and flashes a false grin into the bottom of the mug. “I should get going.” His voice is soft. Pushing himself off the counter, he starts towards the door.

“Stay.” Involuntarily, you take a step towards him. Its a response to him leaving, but part of you wonders if it’s a secret plea for more. You don’t want the warmth to go out of your apartment. “You shouldn’t be driving this late, you’re tired too.”

“Yeah? I’ve got to be up early.” Jake closes the gap from the door to the kitchen with soft footsteps until he is standing so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“That’s okay.” You nod, voice so soft its barely more than a whisper. You bridge the gap between the two of you, reaching your hand out to take his. “Lets go to bed.”

. . . .

Jake fell asleep with his arm draped across your side, almost spooning you. His touch spreads a warm, soft feeling through you. Sensations were completely different than the normal electric lust that coursed through you at every touch. Hangman was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Nothing happened between the two of you that night. Everything happened between the two of you that night.

#jake seresin x female reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman top gun #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin angst #hangman angst #hangman fluff #top gun maverick #hangman x female reader #hangman x reader #hangman x oc

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fandoomrants · 3 months

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Planned to reread the books for a while now. Well, in the end I listened to the audio version of the Lighting thief.

I made a list of things that were either not mentioned, or slightly different from the TV series (loved the series and that's not with the idea to say they weren't okay).

No real spoilers as it's all about the Lightning thief, just a bunch of facts here.

-The gods being on top of Empire State building is explained (gods move) as well as their existence.

-Camp Half-Blood looks like a strawberry farm to normal people (it'll forever pain me how much I'd hate that place. I hate strawberries with passion.)

-Demigods don't use technology because it attracts monsters (Annabeth has a phone, tho).

-Percy (and the other demigods) understood Ancient Greek. And they are all dyslexic and with ADHD.

-The beads on the campers' necklaces mark the years they've spent on camp.

-When Percy was claimed, everyone knelt. Even the Ares kids.

-Sally never told Percy that he's a demigod. He figured out the whole thing and about the gods in camp.

-Percy and Sally were announced missing and there were articles in newspapers about them.

-Gabe is much more abusive in the books. It's heavily hinted in the end that Sally used Medusa's head against him. She sells him as a statue. Sally married him because he smelled so much of human that he covered Percy's scent from monsters.

-Percy hid the fact he hoped he can save Sally from everyone. He didn't know she's not dead. But he hoped to save her from the Underworld nevertheless.

-The demigods are not only by the Olympian gods. There are also minor gods that have children.

-Different demigods have distinctive traits from their parents. (Hermes kids all look like troublemakers, Athena kids have gray eyes, Dionysus kids look like him.)

-Percy and Annabeth didn't get along well because of Athena and Poseidon who also don't.

-Luke wasn't as soft and nice. (In chapter 7 Percy says "I thought he was gonna gut me", after he pulls a knife out of his pocket..)

-Quests were stopped because of a quest gone wrong. That's where Luke got his scar.

-Chiron most likely knew whose son Percy is all along.

-Percy didn't choose anyone for the quest, Annabeth volunteered and Grover was assigned to go with Percy by Dionysus.

-The knife Annabeth threw at Luke was a gift from him.

-Annabeth was in love with Luke.

-Hill Half-Blood is called so because of Thalia (where the pine tree is).

-Percy is the one who saw the Fates, even before everything started.

-Mr. D and Chiron weren't the only adults at Camp. Argus, a man with 100 eyes, was there as Camp security.

-Chiron gives the sword to Percy only when they leave for the quest. It's called Riptide.

-Demigods use ambrosia and nectar to heal.

-Annabeth was interested in architecture and wanted to become an architect (she also carried an architecture book) so that's why she knew so much about the arch they went to. They didn't go because it was Athena's sanctuary. She wanted to see it.

-Percy doesn't fall in Mississippi. He jumps.

-They didn't know most things on the quest. Medusa, Lotus casino, etc.

-Ares's eyes are literal flames.

-Annabeth didn't want to go with Percy in the tunnel of love because someone could see her.

-Percy saw Thalia in a dream.

-The zebra they released in Las Vegas spoke to Percy.

-They never missed the deadline.

-Grover eats everything. Coke cans. Cards. And he bleats. He can also "smell" thoughts.

-Dionysus and Hades aren't as fun. Hades is intimidating. Dionysus, too, at times.

-Grover told Charon that the three of them drowned in a bathtub. He also told Medusa earlier they were orphans from a circus.

-Despite the danger, Percy, Annabeth and Grover take a flight (he didn't use the shoes because of that but the fight with Ares is not at Montauk, it's Santa Monica) so they can arrive in time. It scared Percy more than any monster.

#disney pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #luke castellan

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xdeariex · 1 year

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too late

summary: peter plans a getaway trip to treat you but doesn't show. fem!reader, both reader & peter are like early twenties (let's just pretend that's when tony recruited peter.)

word count: 1645 (still kind of a blurb, idrk where i was going with this)

warnings: angst, swearing that's basically it

a/n: definitely inspired by the opening scene of the movie 'american ultra' also, i haven't posted in a long time and i wrote this at like 3 am so just give me a little time to edit

you weren't sure how much hope you had for the unforeseeable future. or even the future that held just a few hours ahead.

having a boyfriend like peter, everything was uncertain. and no, it wasn't just to take a dig at him, you loved him with all your heart and knew what you were getting into when you decided to stay with him after finding out he was spider-man.

the missed dates, missed calls, texts, and events. the missed time together. you were amazingly understanding, it came as a surprise to not only you but peter as well.

still, this didn't mean that you didn't find yourself disappointed sometimes.

it all started as peter's idea. a trip. not just a day trip or a few-hour road trip. an actual trip, a getaway. somewhere it would feel like only the two of you existed. no criminals, no stress, only you two.

and normally one would think if it was peter's idea, and the trip didn't pull through, then it must've been you, you were the one who flaked. but that wasn't true.

seated in the airport terminal, your leg wouldn't stop bouncing. you chewed at your fingernails, anxiety taking you out in waves. the tears were burning your eyes but there was no way you were going to cry in public like this.

especially when you knew this would happen. in fact, you expected it to happen. it was too good to be true. every fiber in your body was fighting against acting upon the rage filling you with each passing second. and as the final call for your flight was forced to be ignored by you, you huffed out a breath, lifting out of your seat and rolling your suitcase with you to the exit.

'i'll meet you at the airport' he said.

that should've been the first sign he wasn't coming.

peter already felt guilty. so guilty, he felt physically sick. to make matters worse, he was late. doing what? he wasn't out assisting the police in a car chase, or stopping some wanna-be criminal from stealing the purse out of some poor lady's car in the middle of the day. instead, he was pacing on the roof of your apartment. his chest rising and falling as he felt his own anxiousness suffocating him.

he couldn't lessen the worry of what would happen while he was gone. there were people that depended on him, a whole city, tony. could he just leave it all behind? and what about when we got back? will everyone have turned on him for not being here?

"fuck," he kept mumbling over and over, migraine absolutely killing him. his hands were shaking profusely. no matter how hard he gripped one in the other, the shakes wouldn't stop, nerves flowing through him rapidly. this weight was crushing him second by second - and the more peter pictured you, confused, alone, angry even- it got heavier.

he had the decision to make, and fast.

unfortunately, he didn't make the deadline. he subconsciously made his choice and now would have to pay the price when he saw the look on his girlfriend's face.

----

a voice in the back of your head kept urging you to do nothing but pay attention to the road.

he was sitting right next to you in the passenger seat and although he was completely silent, his presence weighed a heavy tension between you both. so thick you could slice it with a knife. and what you'd give to do just that.

"y/n, i'm sorry." he finally broke the silence, voice shaky. you didn't even want to know if he was looking at you or not.

"it's okay." your voice was sweet and convincing. a part of you just wanted to convince him so you could convince yourself as well.

he eyed the promise ring on your finger, he remembered picking up a (less than) part time job in order to save up for that ring. he got fired right after he bought it. your birthstone sat on the band of the ring and in the right light, it really did look beautiful. but the beautiful image was soon squandered when he saw your knuckles. white, from gripping the wheel so hard.

"i-it's not." he finally replied.

he wanted you to know that he already know's he fucked up, he's aware. he wants you to know that he cares about you more than words could explain and not even all the sorry's in the world could cover how fucking sorry he is.

"peter, i said it's fine," you said in the same tone as the first time.

"no, it's not fine." he persisted.

"i really wanted to do this for you, you know? i researched what hotels were best to go to, the restaurants, the stores… i know you would've loved to drag me to all of them." at this point he was rambling on to himself. "i fucked up, i ruined it."

"you didn't ruin it." you shook your head, trying to get him to just… stop.

but now you knew he was looking at you. he could see your eyes glassing over, although you were trying your hardest to blink them back without blurring your vision. you knew he wouldn't let up until you gave him some sort of reaction but what were you supposed to do? what would getting upset do other than put you both in an uncomfortable position neither of you wanted to be in?

"you should be mad at me-"

"i'm not." you interrupted, glancing over at him for just a second.

"well, why not?" he nearly spluttered out.

"it's not your fault, peter. i mean you have a lot on your plate, it's not easy to just walk away-"

"seriously?"

"what do you want me to say? it's… it's alot! is it not? isn't that why we're going back home?"

you didn't mean that in a passive-aggressive way. more of an 'i'm trying to understand you' way. but peter picked at whatever he could get.

"no, we're going back home 'cause i fucked up more times than i can count. it's my fault, i ruined this for us."

"don't-" you took a deep breath, thanking whatever god was to bless you for only being a couple of miles from home. "don't say that, alright? it's okay. i promise."

those were the last words spoken for the remained of the ride. pulling into the driveway, you swiftly turned the key out of the ignition and rushed out of the car, not worried about the luggage.

still, peter called out. "i'll get the bags." before you slammed your door and made a quick beeline for the front door of your apartment.

in the few seconds, you had to yourself, you choked down any emotion, hoping to finally just convince peter that you weren't mad. you really weren't, you didn't feel as mad as you did at the airport. you were just... disappointed. anyone would be if they planned a trip to Hawaii with their partner and their partner didn't show.

you shook your head as if that would rid you of your thoughts. every time you tried to reason with the situation, it just made peter seem bad and you didn't want that- you understood.

when he stumbled in with the suitcases, you looked at him blankly for a moment, thinking of what to say or do. nothing came to mind. you took your suitcase from his hands and went to your room, hoping to unpack both your luggage and your mind.

there was truly nothing more to say, you're already told him you weren't mad (though he didn't believe a single word of it).

setting the suitcase on your bed and unzipping it, you looked down at what you had packed. a couple bathing suits, nothing too extra (you intended on just pulling it together with a sheer coverup), casual outfits - summer outfits. one's you could no longer wear at this time given it was fall in new york and the weather was less than forgiving. packed at the bottom of the luggage was the ugliest palm tree button-up you'd ever seen in your life. peter insisted you buy matching ones, claiming it'd make the cutest picture, the cutest memory.

"ah, what the fuck?" you sighed out, the heel of your palm pressing down on your eyes as you tried desperately not to cry.

"i knew it," you were startled by peter's voice behind you. "you are upset." his voice cracked, walking over to you and pushing your suitcase out of the way. he sat in the spot now, looking up at the way you towered over him. "I want you to be upset with me."

"peter, stop it."

"no, I won't. it's not fair to you."

"it's not going to help either of us if I lash out at you." you brought your hand up to his hair, pushing back the curls falling in his eyes. it reminded you of how you two sat up late last night debating if you should give him a haircut, make it more manageable before you left. clearly, you both decided against it. you didn't mind, you loved his hair longer.

with nothing blocking your view now, you could see in his eyes. you could practically feel the guilt radiating from him and if you chose to ignore it before, that sad, desperate look in his eyes only struck you harder.

"i just..." he choked on his words, letting his head fall to your chest, words now muffled by your clothes. "I'm really, really sorry, baby." he apologized for quite literally the millionth time.

"pete. it's okay."

"you deserve so much better."

"oh, so i have a man telling me my worth now?" you teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

"i'll make it up to you." he looked up at you again. "I fucking... i swear, I promise. i mean it this time, I do."

"i know you do, baby."

"i love you."

"i love you too, peter."

you had no doubt he meant it, you just weren't sure how he was going to keep to his word this time. or if he was even going to.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #mcu!peter x reader #tom holland fanfiction

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starryevermore · 2 years

Text

more hearts than mine ✧ steven grant, marc spector, & jake lockley

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader; marc spector x fem!reader (eventual); jake lockley x fem!reader

summary: marc and jake have made it clear that they don’t like you. but your heart is not the only one being broken by their actions and the consequences that follow.

word count: 6,945

warnings?: angst city™, probably ooc but i don’t really care, break up, eventual make up, anxiety attack, pet names (love [steven]/baby [marc]/princess [jake, sometimes derogatory but eventually affectionate]), not proofread

You were almost certain that Marc and Jake didn’t like you. They had never said it, of course, which was surprising since neither man was never the kind of person that would keep their opinions to themselves. But you could tell. You may have been more of the “book smart” type and only slightly less awkward as Steven, but you weren’t a complete idiot when it came to social cues. You could see the way Marc would tense when he would front while Steve was on a date with you, getting up and leaving you all alone without even so much as a “goodbye”. You saw how, when Jake was fronting, he’d go out of his way to avoid contacting you in anyway and it’d be days, sometimes weeks, before Steven would front again and you’d be left alone to wonder if he was even still alive. Hell, once, before either you or Steven knew of Jake or Marc, Jake had gone so far as to set Steven up on a date with another woman when he fully knew that Steven was working up the courage to finally ask you to officially be his girlfriend after months of going on dates.

Life had been so much easier when all you had to wonder about was how your boyfriend would end up on the other side of the planet while he was sleeping. Oh, what you would give to go back to those times. You’d thought they were rough back then, but that was nothing compared to your life now.

That was not to say, of course, that you hated Marc or Jake. It had taken some getting used to, in the beginning. Not knowing which man you were going to get on a given day. Some days, you’d wake up with a sweet text from Steven, wishing you a good morning. Other days, radio silence. Some days, you got to swing by Steven’s flat and have dinner with him. Other days, you’d come by with food and Marc would tell you he hated whatever you’d pick out. Some days, Steve would front the entire day and the two of you would have the time of your lives. Other days, you’d be having a sweet moment with Steven end abruptly when Marc or Jake would decide to front.

You tried your best to make things work. It never really did. Steven learned a lot about the other two in the months after learning of their existence. He told you things they liked, things they didn’t, in hopes that maybe if you tried including them that they would warm up to you. It only ever got colder. You tried to not let it hurt too much. You didn’t want Steven to feel like he was at fault because, even if you both knew he wasn’t, he would still feel bad about it. So you just learned to grit your teeth and bear through it, knowing that eventually you would get time with Steven again.

Today, though, you really, really, really hoped that Steven would be the one fronting. Because you were on the brink of collapse, and all you wanted was for your boyfriend to hold you close, kiss you softly, tell you about his day working at the gift shop so you didn’t have to think about anything but listening to him.

You were a writer, a novelist. You were working on your next book, slated to be a big hit like all your ones before. But you could behind in writing it, and then your editor moved up your deadline for the first draft to fucking tomorrow, and you were working your ass off trying to get the damn draft done. You’d gone to Steven’s flat, hoping that he would be there so you could bounce ideas off him while he brewed you tea, encouraging you the entire way, making sure that you were making sufficient progress.

But when you got the flat, it was clear that Steven hadn’t been there in a few days. You’d known that he hadn’t been fronting, since you’d heard literally nothing from him, but you foolishly held out hope. Well, at least you were there though. Maybe he would front last minute when Jake or Marc were on their way home, and you could still go forward with your plan.

So, you hunkered down at Steven’s desk, pulled out your laptop and got busy.

You lost track of time as you wrote, the sun soon setting by the time you heard the door slam shut. You looked over, seeing the hunched shoulders and dark glower that belonged to the one and only Jake Lockley. Great. Just what you were looking for.

Trying to avoid a confrontation, you started gathering your things, saying, “Sorry, I was just about to head out.”

“Sure don’t look like you’re heading out, princess,” Jake muttered, looking at your belongings spread out on the desk.

“Okay, maybe not just leaving, but I promise I’ll be out of your hair lickety split,” you said, putting your laptop charger into your bag.

“Thank god for that. I can’t believe Steven still puts up with this shit,” Jake muttered to himself.

You turned around fully so you could look at Jake. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, princess,” Jake sneered, his voice louder now. You fought the urge to flinch. Steven never raised his voice, except when he was talking about something he was really excited over. Marc barely spoke a word to you, most of his sentences coming out as grumbles instead of anything you could really hear. And, most of the time, Jake said nothing at all. But to hear the bitterness in this tone…You didn’t like it. “It would be better for all three of us if you just got the clue and left.”

You rose to your feet, the chair scooting out from under you as you stood. “I liked it better when you didn’t talk.”

“And I liked it better when you weren’t around,” Jake said. He took a step closer to you, using his full height to tower over you. “All three of us were happier for it, princess.”

“That’s not true, and you know it. You and Marc might not like me, but Steven—”

Jake laughed. “Oh, you don’t really think Steven actually likes you still? He just doesn’t know how to end a fucking relationship.”

“That’s not true.”

“You should hear his thoughts, princess. ‘Cause I can, and let me tell you—”

Before you could even think of what you were doing, your hand connected with his cheek, your palm stinging at the contact. Jake paused, staring at you, his eyes darkening. Shit. That wasn’t a good idea.

“You should not have done that, princess,” he snarled, his hand smacking against the desk. His hand smacking against the desk, on top of your laptop. Your laptop, that had been hanging over the edge by a couple of inches. Your laptop, that was now falling.

You watched as your laptop clattered to the ground, the screen fading into black. When you picked it back up, it wouldn’t light back up no matter how many keys you pressed or how much you touched the trackpad. Your laptop was, without a shadow of a doubt, broken. The laptop, that housed the draft to your latest novel. The draft, that you had to send in tomorrow to your editor. The draft, that hadn’t been saved. You looked back at Jake, who was already looking at you, his face unreadable. It was always unreadable, but you could only imagine the hatred he felt towards you.

“Did you do that on purpose?” you asked, an odd, dangerous sort of calm washing over you. A storm that had long since been brewing was about to be unleashed.

“Aw, is the princess going to cry over a fallen laptop?” Jake asked, sticking his bottom lip out in a faux pout. “It’s what you fuckin’ deserve for smacking me.”

“Did you knock my laptop over on purpose, Jake? Yes or no?” you repeated.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. All I know is you ain’t gonna do shit about it.”

Before you could say anything, he turned, starting to walk away. Your heart hammered in your chest, your blood pumping in your ears. Fuck, what were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t remember the last time you saved the draft. Ten, twenty chapters ago? Could you salvage anything? Would your editor be kind enough to push back your deadline by a day or two?

All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry for a thousand years. And, in the pain of this mess, you found yourself saying—

“I can’t fucking take this anymore.”

Jake paused, turning to you slowly. You almost wanted to run and hide when you saw the even darker look in his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you say something? Does the princess have another demand?”

“Let Steven front for a minute,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, to not let him see you break down. You knew he would still see when Steven was fronting, but at least you wouldn’t feel as humiliated. “I need to talk to him.”

“What the fuck? Why would I—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jake, just do this one thing for me! Would that really kill you?!”

He blinked slowly, then his tense face relaxed into Steven’s distressed one, him stumbling forward to take you into his arms. But, even though you didn’t really want to, you pushed him away. “What’s wrong, love? I-I want to help you. Please, let me help.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Steven,” you said, struggling to keep your tears at bay. It hurt even worse, because you knew that Steven didn’t know what was said. He didn’t know the horrible things Jake had said, because Jake never lets him or Marc see or hear what’s going on when he fronts. Steven started to speak, but you raised your hand, making him pause. “I can’t do this shit. I love you, I really do. Please, don’t ever feel like I don’t love you. But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t kill me inside when Jake or Marc front and just act like I’m the worst person they’ve ever met, which hurts even more because I know they’ve known some really shitty people.”

“W-We can work on that,” Steven said, trying to reach for you again. You took a step backwards, shaking your head. “I want this to work. I love you.”

“I know you do, and I love you, too. But there’s no working on this. We’ve been dating for a year, Steven, and they still won’t even show me an ounce of kindness. I’ve tried so hard to get them to at least tolerate me, but I’ve only ever been met with complete and utter vitriol. I-I can’t separate you from them, and that’s the tragedy of it all, you know? Because when they say the things they say, it’s your face I’m looking at. It might not your words, or your exact voice, but all I can see is the love of my life treating me like shit, and I can’t live like this. I can’t keep pretending. I’m tired, Steven. I’m tired of it.”

“…I know it hasn’t been easy for you. But I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Steven said, tears spilling over, streaking down his cheeks. It took everything in you to not surge forward, wipe the tears away, say that you would try again, even if you knew it would only hurt you more.

“It’s been hell, Steven. I mean, you see what Marc does. And Jake’s even worse.” You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn’t look at him right now. If you looked at Steven and saw how he looked like a kicked puppy, you’d give in. You would take it all back. You would keep up the act. “Like, at least Marc acknowledges me, you know? It’s far from sunshine and rainbows, but at least I’m treated like I’m a person, even if I’m being treated like his least favorite person. But Jake…”

“I know,” Steven said. “Well, I don’t know, really. He never lets me or Marc see what he’s doing—”

“And that’s part of it, you know? He just completely disappears. And I’m left wondering if, if you’re out there, dead somewhere. Or, or if he’s finally got sick of it and relocated you three somewhere else on the planet ‘cause he can’t stand being around me—”

“He would never!”

“Do you know that? For sure?” you asked. Jake’s words echoed in your head, swirling around, reminding you just how much he didn’t liked you. “Because I don’t. Neither Jake nor Marc have been so cruel as to say the word out loud, but I can’t keep pretending they don’t hate me. And, between the two of them, if they did manage to move somewhere else, I fully believe that they would do everything in their power to make sure I never saw you again.”

“I would always come back to you, love. You know that.”

“I do. And I also know that it’s probably really hurting you that Marc and Jake and I can’t along. And, like I said, I can’t separate you from them. You can’t separate yourself from them. The only person who can leave is me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“This is already killing me,” you said, reaching into your pocket, pulling out your key ring.

“Please, love. I’ll do anything. I’ll try anything. Just don’t leave me.”

You began twisting the key off the ring. “I know you would. But I can’t ask that of you. Not when I know that it’s just not going to work.”

“But I love you.”

“And I love you, too,” you said, grabbing his hand, pressing your copy of the key to his flat into his palm, shutting his fingers over it. You held on for a second longer, running your thumb over his knuckles, momentarily wondering if Jake had remembered to disinfect the cuts on them or if he decided they’d deal with a potential infection later. You wanted to ask, but it wasn’t your place. Not anymore. You don’t know if it ever really was. “That’s why I gotta go. I’m sorry.”

And before Steven could say anything more, say something that might actually convince you to say, you were already walking out the door, shutting it behind you. Steven fell to his knees, clutching his hands to his chest, hunching over, letting the sobs overtake his body until Marc finally was able to front and could begin dealing with the aftermath of the mess he and Jake had made.

And, as Marc looked around the flat, realizing that you would never grace it with your presence again, all he wanted to do was to cry, too.

Steven didn’t front once in the three weeks that followed after you gave him back your copy of the key, after you walked out the door, after you made him swear that he would leave you be. He completely closed himself off. Jake was only slightly less concerned than Marc, who had grown increasingly worried at Steven’s disappearance. Marc was so used to Steven talking to him whenever he fronted. Now that Steven was silent, it was suddenly weighing on him that he may have been in the wrong this entire time. That maybe he wasn’t protecting Steven’s heart by pushing you away. That maybe you really, truly, loved Steven. That maybe you actually wanted the best for him. That maybe you were being friendly to him and Jake because you actually just had that much love in your heart. That maybe you knew that it would mean everything to Steven if you all could just get along. Not be BFFLs, not be anywhere as close as you and Steven were. But could tolerate each other long enough when Steven wasn’t fronting. Yeah. Yeah, Marc was feeling really, really guilty about the whole thing.

Jake was feeling less guilty.

Truthfully, he was trying really hard to not think about it at all. Because, if he thought about it, he’d be forced to deal with the fact that he was one of the reasons, if not the main reason, you left. He was created to protect Marc and Steven, and he only did that half right.

Marc had created Steven to preserve his innocence. To let him think that their mother loved him. That he had a good life. Steven was everything pure that Marc had lost. But Jake was created to protect them both. Neither knew that he existed for a long time. He only ever fronted when he needed to save them. It became less necessary for a while when they reached adulthood, but then Marc became a mercenary and eventually Khonshu’s avatar and, well…There were some fights that Marc couldn’t win on his own. Sometimes, Marc couldn’t make the hard call, even if it was a matter of saving his own skin.

Jake would have preferred to keep himself unknown to the Marc and Steven, but then you became more of a fixture in Steven’s life. And suddenly there was a new type of protection that Jake had to do—protecting Steven’s heart. Steven was more fragile than Jake or Marc. If you did something to break his heart…Jake wasn’t sure that Steven would be able to recover. Steven loved so purely, after all. He gave his all in everything he did. And if that was all thrown back into his face…It wouldn’t end well.

It sucked, though, because he could see you, could hear you when Steven was fronting. Before Steven or Marc ever even knew of him, he was always there, a fly on the wall, ready to drop in in case things went awry. He saw how Steven had a crush on you for months, how he would go and talk to you when you would come by the museum, tell you all of the facts he knew—and there were a lot of facts Steven knew. He saw how you would smile—genuinely smile—and ask questions, hanging onto every word Steven said. When Steven finally asked you out, he fell hard and fast.

It was hard not to love you, too. You were incredible. Kind, sweet, compassionate. You were loyal, would go to bat for Steven any day of the week. You loved as purely and as passionately as Steven did. Part of Jake wanted that for himself.

And that was how Jake knew he had to stop this. Because, if he felt so strongly about you…If it came down to it, he might not be able to protect Steven from the heartache. So he began to make his presence known, slowly over time until Marc and Steven were fully aware there was a third alter.

It killed him, though, to be cruel to you. That was why he would leave. If he spoke to you, if he tried to find ways to prevent you from breaking Steven’s heart, he knew he would break your heart. And that was the furthest thing from what he wanted.

Honestly, and truly, he hadn’t meant to be so cruel on that day. But he’d just had the worst few days ever, being dragged around the world by Khonshu, and nearly dying because one of the guys he was chasing said something about you, and he knew that you were being dragged too close to this world. And he had to stop you from getting any closer.

When he saw you in Steven’s flat, he was trying to figure out a way to get you to leave. And, in his exhaustion-riddled state, all he could think of was making you believe Steven didn’t love you, which was the furthest thing from the truth and you both knew it. But he kept pressing and pushing your buttons until you snapped. Then you slapped him, and it hurt, on an emotional level at least. He didn’t want you to hate him. But he was frustrated. And he smacked his hand down and…

Look, he didn’t mean to break your laptop. And he felt really badly about it. About everything. And he knew he probably would never make it up to you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

So, three weeks post-incident, Jake stood at your door, holding the box to the new laptop tightly, wondering if he should just turn and run the other way instead of waiting for you to answer the door. But, slowly, he raised a fist, and he knocked on the door again, this time a bit louder than the first.

He wondered if you were even home. Had you gone somewhere else for the day? He knew that sometimes you liked to work in that little bookstore cafe that you always took Steven to. He remembered one time, relatively early on in the relationship, when Jake had only just started making his presence known to the Steven and Marc, he fronted when you had taken Steven there. You were in the middle of showing Steven a book on archaeology but, when you noticed Jake fronting, you quickly pivoted into showing him a book on classic cars that you thought he might like. You were right. He was interested in the book. But, rather than telling you that, he walked out of the cafe without so much as a goodbye. Jake had regretted not getting the book, but when he went back a few days later, he was told that the last copy had already been sold.

When he finally returned to Steven’s flat (he often avoided staying there, preferring to be out working as a cabbie or doing Khonshu’s bidding), he was surprised to see the book on the coffee table with a note from you. When Steven fronted later, he had asked Jake what he did with the book and note. Jake lied, saying that he’d thrown both out.

He didn’t want Steven to know that he actually tucked the note in his wallet, memorizing the curls of your letters, reading the note so many times he could recite in forwards and backwards and in at least three different languages. That he put the book in his bag, taking it out to read whenever he got the chance, finding a foreign sort of comfort in the pages, knowing that you picked it out because you genuinely wanted him to enjoy it.

No one ever really exercised such care and compassion around Jake. If he wasn’t such an ass, he would talk to you about the book, tell you about his favorite parts, ask if you had anymore recommendations for him. But he was an ass, and he was left knowing that he would never ask you any of the questions he had for you.

Then, the door opened.

You stood on the other side, your pretty face twisted up in a scowl, your arms crossed over your chest, looking at him, wondering which man you were going to be dealing with. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologize, princess,” Jake said.

You flinched at the pet name. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Then don’t listen to it,” he said. He raised the laptop box. “I feel…horrible about everything. And I know that this doesn’t fix the damage I’ve done, or retrieve the files on your old laptop, or anything like this but…Steven had already been looking to get you a new laptop for your birthday in a few months. So, really, it’s his idea to do this. I’m just speeding the process along, ‘cause I fucked up here.”

“You should return it. Get Steven something nice with the money,” you said. “He’d been eyeing some of those architecture LEGO sets. There’s one of the Great Pyramid coming out in a few months. It’s on preorder. He would really like that.”

“He would rather you have this, princess.”

You raised a brow. He could practically hear you wondering when he ever cared about doing something that made Steven happy, at least when it came to you. “I would just throw it out. You know, like you did with that book I got you.”

“I didn’t. Throw the book out, I mean.”

You didn’t say anything. Still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I kept it. And the note. I really liked them both, princess.”

“Steven told me a lot about things you liked. And things Marc liked. I think he thought that if I tried to do things either of you liked, at least one of you might warm up eventually. I think it just made you both colder.”

“I was an idiot for that. Back then, I thought that I was protecting Steven. Now, I understand that you really loved him and you wanted what’s best for him, just like Marc and I do.”

“You’re just saying that because you feel bad that his heart’s broken.” You paused. “How is he? Is he holding up okay? I-I mean, I don’t expect him to be fine and dandy, you know, but…Is he gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know. Honestly.” Jake looked down at his feet. “He hasn’t said anything to us, hasn’t fronted once, since you left. I think it’s his way of saying he’s leaving with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not…” Jake sighed. “Look, me and Marc just wanted to say—” His New York accent effortlessly melted into a London one, his body seeming almost as confused by the change as you as it shouted, “LEAVE HER ALONE!”

You jumped back, surprised by the sudden change. “Steven?”

He was coming into your apartment, setting the laptop box on the side table by the door, shutting the door behind him. His hands were on your face, his eyes searching yours for any hints of distress. He was so warm, so comforting. It took everything in you to not just lean into his touch. “Are you alright, love? Was he bothering you?”

“W-What? No, yeah. I-I’m fine. Jake was just…talking,” you said, still reeling from Steven’s appearance. “Steven, he said you’d just disappeared for weeks.”

He shrugged slightly, his hands going from your face to your waist, tugging you against him, your head nestled perfectly on his chest. His chin rested on top of your head, his sweet voice almost bitter as he said, “Serves ‘em right. Bet they don’t like it when the person they care about disappears without a single word.”

“Steven…They…I mean, I don’t know about Marc, but Jake actually seemed really worried about you.”

“It’s what he deserves, innit?” he said. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Your fingers clutched his shirt, holding on as tightly as you could manage, afraid that you might soon lose him. “He knew how much I love you, and he still did all that shit.”

“I think Jake wants to try,” you said.

Steven paused, looking over your shoulder at the mirror hanging on the wall behind you. “Jake says he does,” he reported to you. “Says it was misplaced protection over me. He says he’s sorry, and he wants to make things better.”

You pulled away, looking up at him. “I have missed you.”

Steven looked at you. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“And, I might be crazy for this, but…if they actually try to be civil at the very least, I’d be willing to start over.”

“Do you mean it?” Steven asked, light filling his eyes.

“I do.”

And then his face tensed, Jake fronting again. “Good, because the first thing I wanna do is take you out.”

“Do you mean out as in kill me, or out as in going out somewhere?”

“I don’t usually warn before I kill someone, so it’s gonna have to be out somewhere, princess,” Jake said. “I was thinking about going to this bookstore cafe that’s down the street. I hear there’s this adorable woman who’s really good at picking people out books who might help me find my next read. I’ve been reading this one book on classic cars over and over for months now, but I think it’s time I find something new.”

“You kept that?” you asked, your eyes wide.

“Steven’s not the only one who cares about you, princess,” Jake said. “And it’s about damn time I start proving that to you.”

“Then lead the way.”

Marc didn’t think he was worthy of love.

He often looked back at all the things he’d done over the course of his life, remembering all of the pain he’s inflicted. All the lives he’s taken. And he’d remember that, even if he somehow had managed to get into the Field of Reeds, nothing would absolve him of the guilt he felt weighing down on his chest. He knew it was all an irrational thought, but that didn’t stop him from feeling that way.

When Marc realized that Steven was starting to see you, he wished he felt bitter about it. He wished he could’ve hated you. He wished he could’ve not longed for your affection directed his way. When was the last time someone looked at him the way you looked at Steven?

Sometimes, if he imagined hard enough, you were looking at him just like you looked at Steven.

Of course, he went and ruined that.

He didn’t want to ruin things. But Steven didn’t have a lot of amazing things going for him. For years, he struggled to keep a job, he struggled to make friends, he struggled in relationships if he could ever get that far. And then you came into his life, a shining goddess who fell head over heels for the man who could go on and on and on about ancient history and miss everything that was happening in front of him. And you loved, genuinely loved, Steven for that.

Marc, though…He was a mess. He knew he was a mess. And he knew that if he got close to you, he would ruin things between you and Steven somehow. It would never be his intention, but…He looked back on everything relationship he had—familial, platonic, romantic…It all ended in disaster. The last thing he wanted was to ruin things for Steven. So, when he would front around you, he would just get out of the way. It wasn’t the best plan, but the less time you were around him, the less damage he could do.

And you all saw how wonderfully that had went.

He had only wanted to do one thing, and he couldn’t even do that properly. And then Steven wasn’t talking to them, wasn’t fronting. Jake started taking on more assignments from Khonshu to distract himself from the mess. And Marc was seriously considering taking a page out of Steven’s book and just disappearing.

I’m sorry, Steven, he would often say during those three weeks. I didn’t think this would happen. I-I thought that I was preventing this from happening. If I could make it right, I would. Just come back. Please.

Steven didn’t ever answer back.

Marc was so sure he’d never see Steven again, until Steven finally fronted again when Jake went to your flat. Marc had actually been impressed with Jake’s actions. The last thing he ever suspected was for the often-quiet man to take things into his own hands and try to mend what had been broken. Hell, he was surprised Jake even started letting Marc (and Steven, too) access his thoughts when he was fronting. The man had been so private before, but it seemed like he was throwing everything Marc knew about him out the window.

And you answered the door, looking rightfully pissed at Jake. And Marc could tell you were about to slam the door in his face. And Marc was about to jump in, apologize for his own actions, too. And then—

Steven fronted for the first time in a long time.

When Marc heard that you were willing to give them a second chance, contingent on Marc and Jake being civil, he was over the moon. His previous method had worked horribly, but now…Now he could try to actually get to you know, to get you to like him, too. Oh, he was so busy thinking of his plans, he didn’t even realize you and Jake had gone to the bookstore.

Then—

Marc blinked, realizing he was now fronting. “Oh. Sorry,” he said, his face suddenly feeling very hot. “I, uh, didn’t mean to do that.”

But you were smiling, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. Hey, your team is the Cubs, right? The Chicago Cubs? I think that’s what Steven told me, anyway.”

Marc nodded. “Yeah, why?”

You started walking away from the books on cars, heading to the sports section. “They got in some new baseball books a month or so ago, and I think I saw one for the Cubs that I thought you might like. I was gonna get it as a peace offering before, well, you know…But, anyways, no better time than the present, right?”

“Wait,” he said, reaching out, grabbing your hand. He paused, staring down at your connected hands, a smile starting to curl across his face. Then, he quickly cleared his throat, eyes flitting back to yours. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I…I should have been kinder to you. You’re important to Steven…You’re important to all of us. You know, even though, two of the three decided to be jerks about it.”

“You thought you were doing right by Steven,” you said. “It doesn’t make it okay what you and Jake did, but…I understand. And let me assure you, I only have the best intentions for Steven, and for Jake, and for this complete jerk named Marc.”

Marc let out a laugh at the end, shaking your head. “Can you and I start over then? I wanna make things right.”

“I would love that.” You began to pull him towards the baseball section, saying, “And the way to start making things right is to understand that my book recommendations are elite, and I’m expecting a glowing review by the time you finish reading what I pick out for you, okay?”

“Deal.”

In the days and weeks that followed, both Marc and Jake worked to make things better as you finally took Steven back. Jake was actually making more headway than Marc was. Because, well, Marc was still scared. Jake had come to realize that protecting you was protecting the system, and now he loved spending time with you. Hell, he was even talking to Steven about how, after a couple more outings, he was thinking of asking you to be his girlfriend, too. And Marc…Well, he loved that for Jake, and for Steven, and especially for you. You deserved only the best. And he was still terrified that he wasn’t that for you.

He would still hang back a lot, around you. He’d let Steven or Jake take the lead, whichever was more eager that day. But he was getting better, coming out from time to time, telling you about the latest chapter he’s read, telling you how he never thought he’d be so excited for a nonfiction book, teasing that soon enough he’s gonna be as nerdy as Steven.

Gosh, the way you laughed, smiling, at him. He wanted to see that every day if he could.

But some days, there were bad days.

You’d been hunkered down in Steven’s flat for a few days now. Unfortunately, the boys had to leave you alone because Khonshu was sending Jake to take out some cultist on the other side of the globe. They’d all been reluctant to leave you, especially since things were finally good, but you promised you’d stay in Steven’s flat, work on your novel, and plan a nice date for when they got back.

Steven was fronting when they got back, and he was plumb exhausted. Poor guy was on the first of collapse, but he refused to let Jake or Marc front, knowing that they were just as tired as him. Besides, he was eager to see you again.

But Marc knew something was off when Steven came into his flat. You didn’t jump up to greet them, kissing them softly, asking how the flight back was. No, you were nestled into the couch, a blanket wound tightly around you, your eyes almost glassy as you stared at your laptop screen. And Marc was willing to bet you weren’t watching some sad movie.

“Hey, love,” Steven greeted, shutting and locking the door behind him. “I’ve missed you so much. Just gonna change into something more comfortable, and then I’m all yours, yeah?”

“I’ve missed you too,” you said, a small shake to your voice.

Marc watched the way you trembled ever so slightly, the way your chest shook as you breathed in and out and in and out not quite as naturally as you normally did. And that was how Marc was the first to realize you were having an anxiety attack. Let me handle this, he said to Steven as he finished pulling on a pair of sweatpants and Marc’s white hoodie.

“What? Handle what?” Steven asked, looking over at you, noticing that you were wringing your hands together. He missed the subtle way your breathing had changed, the way your eyes were darting around.

I got this, Marc insisted, not waiting for Steven to give him control, instead taking it himself. Without thinking, Marc knelt in front of you, taking your laptop, setting it on the couch cushion beside you.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

You blinked slowly, as if you were registering that it was him in front of you, that it wasn’t Steven or Jake. It seemed like, for a moment, you had considered saying everything was fine, but as you let out a shaky breath, you instead said, “No.”

“Is it alright if I hold you?” he asked. When you nodded, he got up on the couch, pulling you into his arms. Without really thinking about it, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Feel the way I’m breathing, baby? Try to match that, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered. Your chest still shook slightly as you breathed in and out, but it was getting better.

“Wanna talk about it? Or do you just want me to hold you?”

“I just feel really stupid, you know? And I know it’s stupid, but…It happens every time I’m publishing a book,” you said. You buried your face in his chest, and he held you a bit tighter. “Like just, insecurities, you know? Logically, I know my work isn’t for everyone, but…I just keep waiting for each book to be my last. To be washed-up has-been.”

“You could never be a washed-up has-been,” Marc said. “Pretty sure Jake would start threatening everyone who said that, probably make them all buy out all your books. And Steve, you know Steven would always read everything you wrote.”

“What about you?”

Marc thought for a moment. Then, he said, “I’d be your biggest cheerleader. I’d be there to remind you that you're worth everything and more, and if the world could see that…That’s their loss. Because me, and Steven, and Jake, we all love you more than words could describe. Even when they’re coming from as amazing a writer as you.”

You pulled away from his hold, lifting your head to smile at him. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“And I mean every word. And…I mean this, too,” he said. Without giving it a second thought, without giving himself a chance to overthink, to hesitate, Marc leaned his, pressing his lips to yours.

You smiled against his lips, reaching up, pulling his face down towards you, kissing him as passionately, as lovingly, as he knew you did to Steven.

Oh, come on! I wanted to do that first!, Jake whined.

Marc chuckled, making you pull away, your brows furrowed.

“Something funny about my kissing technique?” you joked.

“Nah, Jake’s just jealous I got to kiss you before he did.”

“Oh…Well, I guess he’s gotta wait his turn then, ‘cause I’m done with you yet, lover boy.”

“Mm, you should kiss Steven next. Get Jake really riled up.”

“I like the way you think, Marc Spector,” you said. Then your eyes lit up as you seemed to remember something. “Oh, by the way, I love you too. And I love Steven. And…well, I don’t know about Jake.”

C’mon, let me front! If I kiss her, she’ll definitely be saying she loves me, too!, Jake said.

Shh, let Marc have this moment, Steven said. He’s earned it.

You leaned back in, your lips brushing over Marc’s. “By the way, if Jake’s listening, I do love you, too.”

“And I think I can speak for all of us and say we love you just as much,” Marc said.

So, maybe you were wrong. Maybe Marc and Jake didn’t hate you. Maybe they loved you as much as Steven did. And maybe they had messed up. But now…Now things were finally, finally right.

And you couldn’t wait to see what the future brought you.

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