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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

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Jungkook

𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 : Things I miss

After a little more than two years of living without you, he's totally fine. No really, he is. He doesn't miss you at all. Not one bit. People would notice if he wasn't fine after all, wouldn't they?

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt & Comfort, Idol!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Cat Hybrid!Reader, mentions of depression and depressive thoughts, heartbreak, homelessness, it's a bit heavy sorry, mentions of mental abuse and manipulation, betrayal, slow burn, eventual smut, dead dove do not eat

Dead Dove do not eat: warning for potentially triggering content that can't be tagged without spoiling the story.

Length: 2.8k words

-> Masterlist

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Today, he's having a bad day.

They've had to shoot a music video today, some of the dancers being hybrids. They only really kept to themselves, didn't interact with them or him in particular at all, but one of them had bumped into him today, leaving all her white and grey cat hairs over his clothes. They're not that many, technically. It's barely noticable at all. And still, he's washing his shirt again just to make sure her scent didn't stick.

He himself has no way of knowing. You'd notice for sure though.

He's drinking on his livestream, because he knows he has to apologize again. People have seen the behind the scenes footage at this point, and he's scrolled through the comments just to find a whole bunch of fans confused over his yet again rather rude behavior. Most write it off and focus more on his honestly piss poor attempt at making sure she was alright after crashing into him- but he knows he should've acted differently.

It's like he's stuck in a loop he can't get out of.

"Ah, yes." He hums, almost using his glass mug of iced wine to hide. It'll be fine. Fans think it's cute, after all. "I wanted to.. apologize. You've seen the video, right?" He nods, seeing all the answers flow into the chatroom on his phone in front of him. He doesn't know what to really say now. Jungkook sucks at lying, and everybody knows it. "I think you all know.. that we, you know, as Idols, have to be very careful." He offers, thinking carefully over his choice of words in order to appease everyone. If he makes it less about himself, and more about the big picture, he'll be able to pull himself out of it with nothing but a scratch soon to heal once people forget. "I didn't.. Some might get upset if we talk, or get close to girls." He nods to himself, staring into his cup for a moment. "So.. ah, you understand, right? You get what I'm saying, right?" He tries to joke, though he knows they can sense he's nervous. "I don't want people to get upset at anyone." he finishes his tiny rant, and the chatroom fills with supportive messages and hearts, making him relax again in his seat as he changes topics to something else.

He sings, drinks some more, ends his livestream later on. Everything's fine.

Until someone rings his doorbell, Namjoon wanting to visit him. At this hour? Strange, but it's not like it's never happened before.

"Jungkook- is everything alright?" He asks, taking off his shoes at the entrance of the youngest's apartment. Jungkook hums something akin to an answer, stumbling a little over his own feet as he puts his galss mug into the sink for him to wash tomorrow. Tonight, he's just not in the mood. "What happened here?" The bandleader asks, and Jungkook turns to look at whatever Namjoon is referring to- spotting the rather angry hole in his wall.

"Oh." He just says, pouting a bit to himself as he tries to think of when it happened. Slowly, Jungkook looks at his hand, suddenly feeling like his knuckles are burning. And they are- they're bleeding a little, skin scratched open. He doesn't remember doing that. Or does he?

"Oh?" Namjoon worries. "Jungkook, what is wrong with you?" He almost scolds, and suddenly the singer wants him out. He doesn't want to be lectured, he's had that done to him year after year after year. He doesn't need this right now. He's done everything they all wanted- he sacrificed everything from his youth to his love to his potential future- how much more does everyone want from him?

He's got nothing left to give, really. They've taken it all.

"I'll stay over tonight, alright?" Namjoon sighs. "I don't think you should be by yourself like this. We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober." He offers, walking around to a room he remembers being a guest room at some point. But its locked- and as soon as Jungkook hears the hauntingly familiar slight creaking of the handle of that particular room, he snaps his head around, angry.

"Leave that." He barks out, irritated.

"Why is it locked?" Namjoon wonders, genuinely confused, and a little bit concerned as well.

"Because no one's supposed to go in there." The singer says, flopping down on the couch before he turns on the TV.

"Not even you?" The rapper questions, sitting down with a respectful distance next to his bandmate.

"No." He simply answers, not looking at him as he zaps through the channels. "Because it's not my room." He mumbles more or less, alcohol in his system making his busan accent stand out thickly.

Namjoon is confused for a good moment- until he spots the colorful stuffed animal on the couch, next to Jungkook, who carefully makes sure it rather sits on the small table next to the couch so it doesn't accidentally get squished by sitting on it. "It was hers." He states.

Jungkook squirms uncomfortably. "It is hers." He growls almost, visibly not alright with you being brought up as a topic at all. He's always doing that, sober or drunk- he hates talking about you, and for a while, everyone had simply thought that you and him maybe broke up on bad terms, that you left. But only recently have him and Yoongi found out about the whole company issues regarding you and him- from the first problems starting right after he'd brought you home to him, to the more extreme things such as the end of your relationship.

"Jungkook.." He sighs, feeling bad for his bandmate. While him and the rest of the band back then didn't really support nor like the idea of the youngest living with a hybrid, no one wanted him to go through what he's going through right now. Yoongi had noticed it quite quickly, considering that the producer had gone through depression and anxiety before- it takes one to know one, he'd said.

"No, don't.." Jungkook shakes his head, annoyed. "I don't wanna talk about it. Just go." He dismisses him, brows furrowed and a frustrated look on the singer's face. "I'm fine."

Namjoon sighs, before he gets up, and seems to search around. "What're you doing?" The singer questions, watching his leader roam around kitchen drawers for something- before he makes his way back to your old room, a key in hand. "Don't you dare!" He immediately calls out, terrified and voice laced with panic as he jumps over the back of the couch- though not in time before the door is opened. Namjoon gains a small tiny glimpse of it- your bed unmade, some clothes in a hamper, dust on the shelf closest to the door- before it slams shut again, and he's pushed aside. "Get out."

"Jungkook, you have to move on-" He tries, but the young man in question pushes him again.

"I said get out!" He barks again- and in all honestly, Namjoon has never seen him quite like this. He doesn't even look angry- it's something else that reminds him of back when he was still a 13-year old child, full of fear and uncertainty, shy and unsure of himself. It hurts him almost physically to see him like this- and he doesn't know how to help him. Or even, if he can at all.

So he leaves, because in that moment, that's all he can really do to make it better.

As soon as Namjoon is gone, Jungkook is still left in the same spot, key left in the door to your room. And slowly, carefully, he opens it to reveal the self-made time capsule, everything still the same way you've left it years ago, when he'd taken you to Hanako, never picking you up ever again. It the first time in almost a year that he's standing here again, and he feels exhausted, for some reason. The door clicks shut behind him as he leans against it, sliding down to sit on the carpet floor, simply staring at what's left of you in his home.

Things are barely illuminated by the citylights outside the window, see-through pink curtains only mildly coloring them in a rosy hue. Your bed is unmade, blankets and pillows without order as they're left from the last time you slept here, unaware that you'd never return. It even smells like you, faintly. But with an almost nostalgic hint to it, making it all hurt just a little more.

There's dust on the shelves and windowsill. On the several figurines you had, the snow globes you collected. He'd bring you one from every country he visited as a souvenir whenever you couldn't tag along- which was more often than not.

Hanako, back then, would have never been his first choice for you. But he didn't have anyone else apart from her- a former translator of his band, the only one who really seemed to at least mildly care about you. You're fine with her, you'll have a normal life- he'd made sure of that after all, had given her a huge chunk of money to use on you only, any need you might have. You'll live a normal life, happy, even if it's not with him.

It was his last act of love for you, even if you probably hate him for it.

But what else was he supposed to do? Let them take you back to the carecenter, where you'd be ostracized forever? They would've never been able to give you into anyone else's care after living with him, the company way too scared of you talking to the media even though he himself knows you'd never do that. They weren't very happy with his choice either- but they at least stopped bothering him after they made sure he really cut all ties with you.

Horrible, really. Just cruel. How much more does he need to sacrifice in order to gain anything from it? How much longer until everyone gets fed up with his attitude he's got no control over these days? It'll only be a matter of time until his actions are no longer excusable, won't it?

But it's alright, even if he doesn't feel like it right now.

He's okay.

~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~;~✿~

The next few days are uneventful, and Namjoon never brings up the incident at all. It's probably for the best, or maybe he's even forgotten about it- it was really insignificant after all. He simply had a bad day, nothing else.

He's fine.

He really doesn't want to be here today however, the shooting with the fans making him horribly uncomfortable for more reasons than just one. He's already swaying on the spot, nervous about things he can't really pinpoint. Maybe it's everything, maybe it's nothing. He's not sure anymore what's the problem these days- maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe he should move on.

You won't be coming back, after all, no matter how stubborn he himself might be to this day. He can't help his behavior- but it'll be okay.

It's fine, really.

He knows that the fans understand after all, even if they don't know the reason for his rather rude behavior. He's grateful they excuse his actions with whatever theory they might come up with- he'll apologize later, give them at least some sort of bandaid to cover up the hurtful sting of his avoidance every single time.

But he can't bring himself to even look at them, not even after years in between what once was and now is. It's frustrating, really, how he can't seem to heal no matter what he does. You're stuck in his mind, every glance he takes at the young cat hybrid fan in front of him morphing into your face instead for no reason other than to spite him. But she's not you.

None of them are, or could ever be.

Jungkook can't even bring himself to think what might have become of you now. He's chosen not to know anything after all, has no way to contact you or find you again, your name and ID number changed to something he doesn't know and never will.

He knows it's better like this. For the both of you.

He loves his fans, he really does, but the way some of them will morph into monsters out for blood if they were to know of your existence and more so your connection to him; he knows he wouldn't be able to protect you down the line. You'd never be safe, you'd never be able to live a normal and happy life with him tied to your name and face.

It's the one thing he hates about his chosen life.

He poses for a picture the best he can, though careful not to touch any of the fans present in the photo. It's like the slight brush of the girl's cat tail against his pants stings him like sour acid, burning into his skin even though all that really sticks to him are a few hairs on his black cotton pants.

But even those, he immediately brushes off, bowing to the fans that leave, apologetic because he knows how awful that must've looked to her. He doesn't want to be like this, he doesn't want to come off as such an awful person, but be can't help it.

Later, at home, he makes a public post on weverse: an open letter apologizing for his behavior, and a promise to do better in the future.

Everyone understands, sends encouraging comments, and he feels even worse now, because he knows he won't change.

He can't.

Not when he's still got some of your old clothes in a backpack in the back of his closet. Not if he's still keeping your favorite comfort plushy on his couch, ready to be held by him whenever he feels particularly lonely. Not when he still tries to seek out your scent by jumping the same bodywash you did back when you still lived with him. Not when he can't let go of the past.

There's numerous theories amongst his fanbase as to why he's like this to hybrids in particular. From a past friend having died, to him being the victim of an attack at some point, there's a wild and colorful variety of explanations they've come up with over the years. Some are chilling to read, while others make him rather frustrated.

He hates that he tends to be portrayed as the vulnerable victim in all of them, when in reality, he never was and never will be. But he doesn't comment on any of the theories to keep them occupied. As long as they think they've got it figured out, they won't dig any deeper than they should.

Today it's a bit easier. Today, he's a bit lighter, having fun singing karaoke on his livestream, before he ends it to shower and go to sleep later. Today, it's not that bad, but he knows it'll only be a matter of time before he's hit with it again, memories and what-if's haunting him again like some curse put on him.

His phone rings, and he picks it up. An unknown number, probably a fan who's overstepped the line again. He denies it, before it calls again- tongue clicking as he accepts the call.

"Please don't ca-"

"Jungkook?" An older woman's voice asks, and he freezes, because even through the natural distortion of his phone's speaker, he knows that voice.

"…" he swallows thickly, collecting his thoughts for a moment before he answers back with a dark tone to his voice. He doesn't need this. "I told you to never contact me-"

"I know, I know, but I fucked up." She tells him, making him nervous. What is she talking about? "I fucked up bad, and now- the police isn't doing anything about it, and I don’t know who to call anymore.." she explains almost as if out of breath, and he's looking at nothing with furrowed brows. "Its been days, and I've honestly.. I don't know anymore, I need help, and at this point, you're pretty much my last chance."

"What are you talking about?" He wants to know, irritated by her cryptic rambling, while simultaneously feeling his blood run cold at the prospect of what she might be talking about. About who she might be talking about.

"She ran away, Jungkook." She says.

And all falls silent for a moment, as he processes what he's just been told.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #200

Wow, what a milestone, huh? It feels like only yesterday we were building Mash. Didn't even know you could grab multiple fighting styles back then. We were also one person back then. Things change. Things change even faster when you have magic eyes that let you bend anything you can see, so let's hurry up and build Asagami Fujino already. She is a Quandrix Sorcerer to tear apart anything she lays eyes on, as well as expand her field of vision beyond what her eyes can see. Dangerous combination, that.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: In the dark of the night, evil will find you! (If Rasputin ever become a playable character I am really going to regret using that one here.)

Wait, what's that...

Race and Background

No surprises here, Fujino is a Variant Human, because normal humans can't tear people apart with their mind. That means she gets +1 Dexterity and Charisma, as well as proficiency with Perception (kind of her deal) and the Tough feat. HP isn't just how much body you have to get hurt, it's also how badly getting hurt affects you. Fujino's deadened sense of pain means she can take hits and keep going, purely due to the fact that she doesn't realize she should stop. That means you're getting an extra 2 HP each level.

Fujino is a schoolgirl, so the closest thing we have is the Cloistered Scholar background. That gives you History and Nature proficiency.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be Charisma. Your magic eyes are an innate part of you, and it's really easy to be frightening when you can tear a bridge down around you. Second highest should be Constitution, for the reasons we outlined in your background feat. Your Dexterity should probably be pretty high, you fight in clothing, and you fought against Shiki for more than five seconds without dying. That's impressive. Your Intelligence isn't that bad, though you're still going through school. We aren't dumping Strength, it's alright, but we are dumping Wisdom. You have a hard time feeling yourself and feeling connected to other people.

Class Levels

You're a Sorcerer, giving you proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as proficiency with the Intimidation and Arcana skills. You've got magic implanted in your face, and again, bridge. As a Sorcerer, you can cast spells using your Charisma. Blade Ward deadens your senses further, giving you resistance to physical damage types for a round. Mending lets you twist a small item back together, instead of tearing it apart. Sword Burst is a short range bending... sorta. Force damage is hard to quantify. But it's free, so that's nice. You can also Shape Water to bend liquids to your will. For first level spells, Mage Armor helps you not die, and Magic Missile lets you shoot little bursts of twistiness that'll never miss. You also join the school of Quandrix, which gives you the starting gift of the spells Guidance and Guiding Bolt. They aren't super in character, but they're free, so suck it up. More Importantly, you learn Functions of Probability, helping you bend luck in your favor. When you cast a leveled spell targeting a creature, you can add an effect to a nearby creature (yourself included). A Diminishing Function forces a wisdom save (DC 8 + Chr mod + proficiency), and if it fails it subtracts 1d6 from the next attack roll it makes this round. Turns out swordfighting is hard when your sword is a corkscrew. Alternatively, a Supplemental Function lets a creature add a d6 to an attack or save made in the next round. This part is less believable, but if you're creative I'm sure it'll look good.

Second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, giving you sorcery points equal to your level per long rest. You can turn them into slots, or turn slots into points. Eventually you can do other things. Also, you can cast Thunderwave now. It destroys objects, you destroy objects, it's a match made in heaven.

Now that you're a third level sorcerer, you can make your spells truly your own thanks to Metamagic! If you cast a Heightened spell, one creature in its effect has disadvantage on their save against it. If you cast an Empowered spell, you can re-roll a couple damage dice. Tearing people in half is generally hard to avoid, and kind of damaging. You can also bend the air itself by casting Dust Devil, creating a Medium sized tornado, dealing damage to creatures nearby and pushing them around. It'll even pick up dust and make things hard to see, though that's kind of a drawback for you.

Use your very first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Charisma. Kind of a spell-based build, to be honest. Speaking of, Mage Hand probably doesn't have much tearing force behind it, but it's free. You can also cast Shatter for more indiscriminate destruction.

Fifth level sorcerers gain third level spells like Clairvoyance! Now you can see a bird's eye view of the battlefield, tearing your way through it like, well, you.

At sixth level it's about time you started bending the earth to your will. You can Velocity Shift nearby creatures if they start their turn or move within 30' of you. If they fail a charisma save you can shove them to any other point within 30' of you. You can react this way 30' per long rest. Twist debris at people and watch them scatter, it's fun. To help with that, you can also cast Erupting Earth, bending the ground in a 20' cube. This forces dex saves on creatures in the cube, dealing damage and making the area difficult terrain until it's cleaned up.

Seventh level sorcerers get fourth level spells like Stoneskin for even more deadened senses. Now you resist physical damage without having to waste your action every turn. It does use your concentration, but it lasts an hour.

Another ASI! Max out your Charisma for super special eyes. You can also Control Water to create truly damaging whirlpools. There's other options, but whirlpools! Who'd want anything else?

Oh hey, I found something you might want else. It's fifth level spell Bigby's Hand! You can grab people and play with them like a stress ball. Technically there isn't a twisting option, but a Grasping Hand is probably the best you'll do. It'll grapple a huge or smaller creature, and if it successfully does so you can Crush it as a bonus action for damage.

Another Metamagic option! Technically these spells are all just you looking at things, so grab Subtle Spell so you don't have to yell out all your attack names. You can also Mold Earth. It's not that powerful, but it's free twisting. You also get Telekinesis! Again, no "twisting" in the rules, but it's strong enough to lift an object of 1000 pounds, and fine enough to open a door. Their heads should be popping off here.

Sixth level spells! Here are the big boys of the spell world. If you twist anything enough, eventually it'll Disintegrate, dealing plenty of force damage and leaving behind a mess you can't even revive. A little too clean for Fujino, but it's destructive enough.

ASI time. Bump up Constitution for a thicker skin and more HP. HP changes retroactively, so you get an extra 12 HP here.

Did you know turning into rotini is painful? Your enemies certainly know that, thanks to Power Word Pain. If a charmable creature has 100 HP or less, their speed drops to 10', and it gets disadvantage on all attacks, checks, and saves, aside from constitution saves. If it tries to cast a spell, it'll be wasted if it can't pass a constitution save. The target stays in pain forever until it can pass a constitution save.

Cool, so fun thing about these Multi Class Subclasses! As long as you're the correct level, you can take any one feature they have each time you hit the appropriate level in your main class. Since the highest requirement is 14, we're taking Quantum Tunneling now, and we'll pop back to the other one later. Your senses permanently deaden, giving you complete resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. You can also bend your way through any physical objects, as long as you're willing to deal with a halved movement speed and 1d10 damage each square you move. You also have to end your turn in an empty spot. Playing to character this should leave a huge hole behind you, but maybe you're conscientious? You weren't raised in a barn, after all.

Your eighth level spell is Earthquake. Now no structure in your view is safe from your destructive powers. Tear open the earth, shatter structures, and interrupt concentration, there's nothing you can't do!

Bump up your Dexterity this ASI. Not getting hit is still pretty useful, even if you can't feel it.

Remember when I said turning into rotini hurts? I was wrong. Actually, it kills you. Please grab Power Word Kill to reflect these changes. You have become death, destroyer of mages. You also learn how to cast Distant Spells, doubling your spell's range. Your range should be "anywhere in sight", so this is a step in the right direction.

Okay, I guess we'll grab Null Equation. Once per turn you can twist up a creature you damaged. If they fail a constitution save, they get disadvantage on strength and dexterity saves, and they only deal half damage with weapon attacks, all for a round. You can do this Proficiency times per long rest. Again, real hard to hit people when your femurs are spring shaped.

Use your last ASI for more Constitution for more HP and better concentration.

We've finally done it, we've made a pure sorcerer build! It's time to finally learn the dark secret of the Sorcerer capstone. What feature could be so powerful we've completely avoided it for 200 builds? It's Sorcerous Restoration. You get 4 sorcery points per short rest. It's not good. Sorry.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

You're good at dealing damage, and your most powerful spells deal Force damage, which almost nothing blocks against. That means you're consistent and deadly, a solid combination.

You're so good at damage that it isn't just limited to creatures. Use telekinesis, mold earth, and shatter to tear apart structures that are getting in your way. Walls? Torn down. Steel Beams? Melted. Bridges? Falling down.

Despite spending your entire time in a class with the worst hit dice imaginable, you're pretty tough to kill, with just over 200 HP, a decent AC for a spellcaster, and permanent resistance to physical damage types. To make things worse for fighters, it's also a pain to get near you, since you can tear up the area around you and shunt melee fighters away as a reaction.

Cons:

While you do have magic missile, a lot of your spells deal damage in wide areas, so your party might have words with you about using earthquake one too many times.

While you're good at tearing things up, that's just about all your magic can do. There's the occasional Clairvoyance and some defensive spells, but by and large you're either dealing damage or doing nothing.

Despite your great physical defense, you struggle a bit more against other damage types. If you end up fighting someone who can turn their knife into psychic damage, you might have a problem on your hands.

#fgo #fate grand order #kara no kyoukai #Asagami Fujino #D&D 5e #DND #Sorcerer

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

Rian helping Alex to dye his hair!! And complain how it'll fall out and stuff just to mask how pretty he thinks it's gonna look

alright anon here it is! my rilex debut. i hope it does not disappoint. also full disclosure i have had my hair dyed Once for me and my friends did it and i do not remember most of what happened so while i did do some light google searches please suspend disbelief if and when you must

read it here on ao3

Rian should know more about dyeing hair. It seems impossible for him to have been in a band with Jack and Alex for this long and not pick up on the basics, at least. Standing in a CVS, Rian feels confident that he should know this.

"Should" being the operative word.

Finally he calls Alex.

"I forgot which brand you said," he tells Alex when he gets yeah?

"I texted it to you, you moron," Alex replies. He sounds very fond. It's always fun to hear Alex try and be bitchy when he's really just being fond.

Sighing, Rian pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his texts. "No you didn't."

"I definitely did." Pause. "Oh, it didn't go through. Whoops."

"Who's a moron now?"

"Still you. I told you the name like fifty times. Okay, it sent. If you get the wrong color, no offense but our friendship is over."

"Gotcha," says Rian. "So was it bright orange or more of a burnt umber that you wanted?"

Alex hangs up on him. A minute later he calls back.

"Love you," he says.

Rian rolls his eyes and grins. "Love you."

"Isn't it kind of disrespectful to do this in a hotel room bathroom?"

Alex doesn't stop setting up the hair dye supplies on the sink, but he does shoot a dry look towards Rian. "Yeah, duh. But it's just hair dye. Worst case scenario it stains the tub or something."

"Or the floor," Rian puts in. "Or your hair all burns off from the bleach and you sue and then there's a whole court case. That'd be pretty bad for them."

"But dope for me," Alex says. "So wins all around."

Not wins for the hotel, Rian doesn't say. He's not sure why he's bothering to try and convince Alex that they shouldn't do this. Not only is Alex thoroughly unable to be convinced, Rian doesn't even think he believes himself.

It's just, Alex is dyeing his hair blue.

Rian tries not to form opinions, like, about Alex in specific, because in general his opinion is wow and good-looking and would love to kiss him and AHHHHH, and those opinions don't really change with Alex's look. Even in the most emo of Alex's hair days, Rian had been very much extremely attracted to him, and Alex has only gotten cuter since then. It will probably become a problem eventually. Rian suspects it might already be a problem that he's just ignoring very effectively.

It's not like he only likes Alex for his looks. Alex has lots of wonderful qualities, and Rian could easily wax poetic for hours. It's just that it would probably be easier not to fall in love with him if he was a little less what they in the music business called Fucking Gorgeous.

But no dice. Obviously.

All of which to say: helping Alex dye his hair blue cannot possibly end well for Rian. Alex has yet to do blue, but Rian is one hundred percent sure it's going to look as good as all the other colors have, and he's just going to find himself speechless for a couple minutes again. Which hadn't been a problem before, when Alex had gotten Jack to do it with him, but for some reason this time he's enlisted Rian, and Rian has yet to find within himself the capacity to refuse anything Alex requests, within (and sometimes without) reason.

Speaking of which: "Why isn't Jack helping you with this? Don't you think he'd be, like, a thousand times more competent? I mean, I wouldn't usually say that about Jack, but this is so not my area of expertise."

Alex huffs, opening the box of dye. "Well, for starters, Jack is busy with Zack, and they are probably banging and/or playing a board game and/or getting wasted and/or doing things that I can't even fathom because Jack and Zack are ineffable," which takes Rian a long moment to process but none of which is technically implausible or untrue, "and second, I wanted your help."

"Yeah, no, I got that when you told me you wanted my help," Rian says dryly. "What I'm wondering is why."

Alex frowns in judgement as he mixes the dye. "What's with all the questions? I just like hanging out with you, man. Do I need a better reason?"

Rian clears his throat. "Uh. I guess not."

"Damn right." Alex gives Rian a smile, and a small part of Rian melts, and he thinks about how much of a naive idiot he's been that he didn't realize how much of a problem this would be until right now. When it's too late. "Okay. Gloves on, Ri. It's gonna get messy up in here."

There's no way that innuendo is unintentional, and Rian is a sucker because he blushes anyway.

Apparently it's just a matter of painting. Which is much easier said than done. Not because painting dye onto hair is particularly challenging, but because Rian painting dye onto Alex's hair is, well.

"One of these days you're gonna lose all your hair," he says at one point, mostly to distract himself from the look on Alex's face as he works the dye through his hair with his crinkly-plastic-gloved fingers. That look is putting Rian's mind in places it should not be.

Fortunately, this comment alters it, and Alex opens his eyes. "I don't dye my hair that much."

Rian gives him a critical look. "Yeah, but still. This stuff can't be good for you. Even if you don't use it a lot."

"You know what else isn't good for me?" Alex says seriously. "Alcohol. Tattoos. Sex before marriage. Rebellion is hot. What kind of punk rocker are you?"

"I'm sorry it's not punk to be worried about your friends," Rian replies. "Doesn't it burn your head?"

"Nah," Alex says, closing his eyes again. "Feels nice."

"How the fuck does putting — I don't even know what's in this stuff — feel nice?"

"It's more about the experience," Alex says around a smile. "You putting the dye in my hair, it feels nice."

Awesome. Rian's fine.

"Oh," he mumbles, and then decides that not talking is in his best interest.

Rian is thorough with his task. If that means he goes twice through all of Alex's hair, it's because he's being extra careful.

(By the second time, Alex has begun humming along to the Motion City Soundtrack song playing from his phone on the sink top, and Rian is distracted for a little (long) while.)

With the shower cap on, Alex actually looks kind of dumb, which is a relief. The timer is nearly done ticking down from thirty minutes and Paramore is singing about how the camera's lying as Alex stares at himself in the mirror, using a washcloth to wipe off the smudges of rogue dye on his forehead.

Rian should stop watching, but there's something very captivating about the intensity of Alex's demeanor. It's not about what he's doing so much as the manner in which he's doing it, and God, Rian would give all the money in the world for Alex to look at him with that same attentiveness, even though he would probably just disintegrate if it ever did happen.

Rian was once a dignified man. He's not sure what happened but he's certain it's Alex's fault.

"Hey, Ri," Alex says. "Can you help me with this? I can't get this fucking dye off my face."

You're doing fine, Rian absolutely does not say, and instead says, "Yeah, sure. Although you might wanna think about just leaving it. I really think you could start a trend with this."

"Yeah?" Alex says, passing off the wet washcloth to Rian. "What, a trend of wearing hair dye on your face?"

"Dyed face is the new dyed hair," Rian says, grinning. He hesitates for a moment and then resigns himself to what he knows has to happen. "Don't move or talk or breathe or anything like that," he tells Alex, sliding a hand around Alex's neck to keep his head in place.

"Don't breathe?"

"What did I just say about talking and breathing?" Rian holds up the washcloth like a weapon. "Shut your mouth."

Alex presses his lips together and mimes locking them. He slips the imaginary key down the front of Rian's shirt. Rian snorts and begins his efforts to clean the dye off Alex's face. It's probably not going to go away for a little while, and they'll need to cover it with makeup, and Rian knows that, and surely Alex knows that too, so he's not sure why they're even bothering with this.

But. The position they've found themselves in is as compromising as it is tempting; Rian keeps his eyes firmly on the washcloth in his hands so they don't flit around Alex's face or land too often on his mouth. He could give himself away far too easily right now.

(He would like to. He would love to. If he kissed Alex right now, would Alex kiss him back? Would Alex have put them in this position as a joke? Is Alex a heartless monster or just a friend who thinks they're just friends? Are they just friends? Do they have to be? Could hair dye be mixed with glue to make colorful glue or does it only work on hair? All these questions and more crowd Rian's mind. It's a wonder he ever gets anything done.)

Eventually, though, Rian has to admit he's not going to get this dye off Alex's skin, and he doesn't want to hurt Alex. He sighs and drops his hand to his side, curling the washcloth in his fist. "Sorry, Al. You're gonna have to start that trend whether you like it or not."

Alex doesn't look even slightly disappointed. "That's cool," he says, smiling at Rian, smiling only for Rian, in a way that paralyzes Rian and renders him momentarily unable to respond. "It's kinda hot, in a subversive way. You know?"

Rian swallows. "Huh?"

"I mean, objectively being punk isn't hot compared to mainstream hot people, but there's something inherently hot about doing exactly what you're not supposed to. That's the whole point of punk." Rian's pretty sure punk has an additional, slightly larger point, but at the moment it's slipping his mind. "So like, this is hot in the sense that it's not what you'd expect to be hot. But I kind of make it work, don't you think?"

I think you kind of make this shower cap work, so I'm not exactly an unbiased authority on the matter, Rian keeps to himself. "Are you asking if I think you look hot with blue hair dye on your face?" he says, neutrally, trying not to give away that he does think Alex looks hot with blue hair dye on his face.

But Alex just meets Rian's gaze and says, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm asking."

A moment passes. Rian realizes he never reclaimed his hand and it is now just kind of cradling Alex's neck where it meets his shoulder. Another moment. Alex keeps his eyes steady on Rian's. Neither of them move. Rian starts to feel his heartbeat and wonders how he never notices when he's not feeling it. It's only startling to feel it because it's so quiet usually. People should be able to feel their own heartbeats, all the time. Then it wouldn't be such an inconvenient surprise any time it kicks to life with a thudding intensity that almost makes Rian flinch.

It's not like he can lie. Morality aside, because Rian doesn't like to lie, he also knows Alex will see through him like glass.

Which leaves him with the truth as his only option, and unfortunately it's been too long since Alex asked for the truth to sound anything but incredibly guilty coming from Rian.

Well.

"If anyone is going to make it work," he says at last, "it's you."

Alex raises his eyebrows. "Way to not answer the question."

"I basically did."

"You completely didn't."

"Why do you care if I think it's hot? You don't need to impress me. I'm already in your shitty band."

"Maybe I'm trying to impress you for something that isn't the band," Alex says evenly, with an impressive degree of confidence, but Rian can feel his heart rate rise under his fingertips.

He has the presence of mind to think, what the fuck is going on? But instead of that, he says, "Like?"

Alex bites his lip. Rian thinks that if he's reading this right, it will flip everything upside down, but surely even he couldn't read a situation this wrong. There's nothing else Alex could possibly mean by this, right?

"I take it back," Rian says. "Dumb question."

"A little," Alex says, breathing a nervous laugh. There's a dangerously small amount of space between the two of them, the kind of small that Rian could bridge so easily, and with no reason not to, he figures there's not much more he can lose.

(He can't be misreading this. There's just no way. Alex isn't this cruel, and Rian isn't this stupid.)

Alex leans closer when Rian does, breath mingling in the air between them, so so so close, like insanely close, like Rian can practically taste it already, how impossible and incredible it's going to be to kiss Alex. The air catches in his throat, and he kind of smiles a little hesitantly, and Alex smells so much like hair dye that it is overpowering all of Rian's senses but he'd love to drown in that smell as long as it means drowning in Alex and their noses brush and Rian lets his eyes fall shut and then

The timer goes off, blaring an aggressive alarm throughout the bathroom, and Rian almost has a heart attack as he jerks backwards and he is going to fucking break his phone into many many pieces.

They're quiet as Rian rinses the dye out of Alex's hair. The worst part is Rian can't quite figure out what kind of silence this is, if it's awkward or anticipatory or what. But thinking for too long makes him want to scream or something, so he stops thinking and just focuses on washing out the dye. Alex is sitting in a chair they pulled in from the room, head tipped back under the sink, that same look on his face that —

But Rian's not thinking about it.

The water starts out bright blue, and Rian almost panics before Alex says lightly, "You just have to rinse until the water runs clear. Don't freak out if it's blue, that's normal."

So Rian does not freak out when the water is blue, and true to Alex's word, it starts to grow clearer the more Rian lets it run. If it were Alex in his position he would probably have a thousand poetic things to say — it's like life, he'd say in a tone just shy of pretentious, it starts out looking like it's going wrong but then everything literally becomes clear — but Rian isn't Alex and to him it's just a Good Sign that he hasn't Fucked Up.

Well he hasn't fucked up the hair, at least. Probably. Yet.

At long last, the water starts running clear, and Rian breathes a sigh of relief and turns the tap off. "You're good," he says, wringing the worst of water out of Alex's hair. His hands are stained blue, he now notices; probably he should have put the gloves back on when he'd gone to rinse Alex's hair, but he hadn't thought to.

"Yeah?" Alex asks, experimentally lifting his head and stretching his neck. "Ah, that is not the most comfortable position, not gonna lie."

Rian grabs the hand towel and dries his hands off, then gives it to Alex so Alex can dry his neck, which Alex does, and then leaves the towel around his shoulders. They are definitely going to get dye on this towel and the hotel will not be pleased, but as Alex stands up and begins rearranging his hair to look like himself again, the comment dies in Rian's throat.

Predictably, he looks really fucking good.

Rian watches Alex like some kind of lovestruck idiot until Alex turns to him, tilting his head, and says, "So? Final thoughts? How do I look?"

"Can I kiss you now?" Rian says, surprising himself. "That's what was about to happen before, right? Like, I'm not insane?"

"Your sanity has nothing to do with whether or not we were gonna kiss," Alex says, grinning, eyes bright, "but we totally were and now we definitely are."

This time Rian wastes no time, and his dye-stained fingers blend into the blue oasis of Alex's new hair color as their lips meet. Briefly, Rian's mind is once again crowded with dumb pointless questions, but he pulls Alex closer and Alex curls a hand into the front of Rian's shirt and Rian decides that his mind can take a hike.

As they break apart, Alex laughs. "So you think it looks good?"

"It looks terrible," Rian deadpans. "Yes, of course it looks good. You could shave your head and it would look good." Alex gasps. "Well. Okay. That was an exaggeration to make a point but I'm not sure it's actually true. But honestly, Alex." The jig is up, so Rian just smiles at him. "I always fucking think you look good. This?" He tugs at Alex's hair. "Hot. No doubt."

"Well, that's the only vote of confidence I need," Alex breathes, and then they're kissing again.

(The hair dye leaves its mark on the towel and Rian's hands and the pillowcases they sleep on that night, but its impact, in Rian's opinion, is altogether immeasurable. It's not every day a box of blue hair dye gets him a boyfriend.)

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