#i remember even at early elementary school age i felt like i would question what i was even alive for and if i even had a purpose

[calamitycontrolled]

The Story So Far...

hey there,

I want to write down everything that's contributed to my journey so far in the interest of memory and sharing. So here's my story from the start until now!

I was assigned male at birth, and currently identify as non-binary. I am 22 years old and have been questioning my gender for a long time. Thoughts about gender have been becoming more frequent and painful in the past 2-3 years.

(TW: Sexuality) This post will describe my very personal feelings and detail some parts of my journey that may be uncomfortable to read. I will discuss sexuality, masturbation, and dysphoria.

My earliest memory regarding gender dysphoria or feeling like something wasn't quite right was when I was very young, maybe 5-6? I remember feeling excitement or euphoria when I put on one of my sister's princess dresses. I tried a few on and felt amazing. I didn't understand it at the time, but I guess that was euphoria. It felt almost like I was aroused. That's a can of worms for the TERF/ autogynephilia crowd, but understand that there's no way I was sexually aroused at the age of five from wearing feminine clothing. I would try on my mom's and sister's heels and take their clothing also. I forgot about that stuff for the most part, but still felt like something was off. For as long as I can remember, I've been disinterested in traditional masculine activities and gender norms. I have always hated playing/watching sports, fishing, and stuff like that. I thought I was just a stick in the mud or anti-social, but I never really wanted to do any of those things. When I was younger, I showed a bit of interest in basketball and baseball but that was extremely short lived. I spent most of my time playing video games, playing star wars, and skating. One could argue that these are masculine activities, though. I really hate anything to do with physical strength and competition. I've always been sorta delicate I guess.

Although I desired to crossdress since an early age, I suppressed those feelings to the point where I didn't act on them anymore, but I still felt them. When I turned 12-13 and reached middle school, things took a big turn. I feel like I've been depressed ever since I hit puberty and I can't explain why. Self-esteem and insecurity issues hit me like a truck. I don't feel like a man, but what else is there? I didn't know I had a choice. I desired to be friends with girls. More so I desired to be one of the girls- but I didn't really understand it at the time. I've always been attracted to women, but I don't know if I want them or want to be them. Probably both. I am pansexual, and have always felt strange around the other boys. I never felt like I fit in with the majority of the masculine crowd. I went to a Catholic elementary and middle school, and my two best friends in middle school both turned out to be gay. I wonder if people perceived me as gay sometimes because I recently found a note in my yearbook from a friend calling me his first love? I've always fantasized about being with girls and boys, but didn't figure that out until high school. At that time, I remember desiring to be more feminine, but being extremely scared. It wasn't a choice I could make. I felt so ashamed and out of place. My confusion only made me more depressed and angry at myself. Why would I even think that I was trans? I guess deep down I always sorta knew, but again I suppressed that part of me out of guilt, sadness, and shame. I felt like I would be disappointing my family and causing problems. I still feel like that honestly. Internalized transphobia is real. It's just rage towards my identity that manifests and destroys my confidence and self esteem. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to be an ugly woman, which is often the only thing holding me back.

I've largely only dated lesbian or bisexual women. A few of them have turned out to be lesbians exclusively after we dated. Almost all of my partners have identified as part of the LGBT community. That's just one thing I find interesting.

I've been buying my own feminine clothes since I was 17, and recently have been buying a lot more. I love to wear skirts, crop tops, and high socks. Now I feel so dysphoric when I'm wearing men's clothing. I am in such a battle with my body right now. I am constantly fighting body hair, my penis, and my broad shoulders. I absolutely hate to see that I have male genitals in my pants, especially when other people can see it. I really only want to buy women's clothing now. My egg cracked on Christmas Eve 2021, when I was drunk texting my then-girlfriend and told her that I think I'm trans. I lurked on r/egg_irl for a while, and did a lot of research on being trans. I remember lying on the couch after everyone had gone to sleep crying. Again, I suppressed it. I keep trying to "go straight" and embrace masculinity, but I fail every time. I cannot for the life of me be the traditional man.

So, if you expect me to boymode because that's my AGAB then fuck you! I realized that I'm living MY LIFE, and other people need to mind their business or support me. Everything else doesn't matter. They're not me, and I'm not them. At the end of the day I have to live with myself, and I'm going to make sure I love who I am.

Let's talk about my friends and family. I am out to my friends and have made steps in dropping people who are homophobic, transphobic, or otherwise won't accept me for who I am. My friends are a tremendous source of love and support, and I am so grateful for them. My family, on the other hand, is a different story. I've only talked to my mom about gender dysphoria, and while she's supportive, she is definitely confused and almost taken aback by it. She says that I didn't show any signs in childhood, and that crossdressing is something all little kids do. I think she expected me to be gay. She told me she expected one of her kids to be gay because my Uncle is gay, but not one being transgender. She keeps asking me if I like boys. I want to tell my sister but she seems disinterested in the fact that we're even related. I just want the support of my family. I'm tired of being doubted, because I do enough of that to myself. My mom is willing to accept me as a woman, but she said it will take some time. She wants to mourn her son. I want to tell her that she has two daughters now, but it's too early for all that. I even have my new name picked out, but I'm scared to take that next step. It's Siobhan by the way (Shi-vawn). I wanted to choose another Irish name that starts with S.

Sexual Dysphoria: It feels odd to share this information but I think it's important to acknowledge. Ever since puberty, I've primarily tried to penetrate myself and feel pleasure that way. I don't know why I did it, it felt instinctual. But I've never really had romantic feelings for men (not until recently), so I can't be gay, right? I was, and still am, so confused. When I first had sex, I really didn't enjoy it. This feeling that something was wrong persisted, but I didn't know why. I love women, but why can't I enjoy the sex we have? I dread having to be the "man" or top. So I started thinking I was gay. When I had sex with men, I didn't really feel attracted to them, but enjoyed being the bottom much more. It felt better. But I can't see myself dating or being intimate with most men. So I would leave those encounters feeling like shit, confused, and degraded. Now I am in a great relationship with a beautiful woman and she understands how I'm feeling. Sex is an important part of a relationship, but I feel like I can't uphold my end. My libido has been destroyed from anti-depressants in addition to the distress that I feel when "on top." Sex is still pleasurable, but I can't reach an orgasm and sometimes have to almost dissociate to cope with the fact that I have a penis. When I wear feminine clothing, research transitioning, do my makeup, or shop for feminine things, I get the same arousal feeling that I described when I crossdressed for the first time. It's not sexual, but I feel excited. My research shows that this is normal and it will calm down once this part of me is no longer repressed. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a pervert that gets a thrill from dressing as a woman.

I desire to start HRT and begin my social transition, but there's a lack of doctors/endocrinologists in my area and I'm waiting to keep talking with my mom about it. She seems worried that I'm going to transition. I know that there's never going to be a more convenient or better time, so part of me wants to say fuck it and just do it. It's obvious to me that these feelings aren't going away, I'm not getting any younger, and every step I take I love. If you are reading this, I hope you can understand me a bit better now.

Lots of love,

Siobhan.

#mtf trans #transgender #transisbeautiful #transitioning #trans experience #coming out #queer #transition #trans positivity #lgtbtq #lgbtq community

[storybounded]

15 Questions For The Writer

1. Are you named after anyone? Off of tumblr, my family named me after a character from the soap opera, 'D.ays of our Lives'.

2. When was the last time you cried? Mmmm. Christmas eve? Not going to divulge in that though haha. Just out of frustration.

3. Do you have kids? No.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh yes, though I try not to use it against people who I don't know or who aren't keen with it. But if I hear someone use sarcasm, I'll do it right back.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? Mainly what clothes they are wearing. Or if they have a cute bag. Or listening to them react to their environment, whether it's positive or negative.

I can't look into faces of strangers I don't know. I know in interviews with a stranger for a job, it's a lot different, but I still have to force myself to give eye contact. Otherwise, it makes me physically uncomfortable if I don't know a person. So my eyes are usually drawn by colors of apparel first, or the sounds going on around me.

6. What’s your eye colour? Hazel Green

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings rn. I cannot physically stomach scary movies (or even shows with 'everyday' scary themes currently, but I know I will get back to those eventually).

But I was ruined with scary movies in 4th /5th grade when one of my old friends forced me to watch em'. I never recovered and C.huckie still is the stuff of nightmares to me, I cannot look at a baby doll the same way again 😂

8. Any special talents? ...falling up the steps rather than falling down. I swear, the amount of times I do it. Even my dog does it from time to time ( though she is very fine, she just slips on one step up but never falls completely.)

9. Where were you born? USA, Georgia.

11. Have you any pets? I am on my second pupper! First one passed of old age after high school, and I got the second a year and a half later and she is still going strong 😊

12. What sport do you play/have played? Oh my god. I am a limp noodle when it comes to sports and I don't play anything currently. I would be 'THAT kid who would be the last one to be chosen' type of bad LMAO

When I was little, my parents tried to force me to do sports, which is probably why I hated them for so long (though I have grown to appreciate them a decade ago and will not say no to trying out new things).

I know I did gymnastics in like...early elementary school years...I have a few plastic participation trophies from them l m a o. But I honestly cannot remember anything about it but the big foam cube pool. Ballet, but that did not last long at all despite also having two or three participation trophies. Little me HATED it. I felt so embarrassed wearing those frilly tutus during recitals... I was not that kind of little girl. It even came up during Christmas recently, and my grandpa admitted to me that I NEVER looked like I was having fun during those show recitals, I always had this look of ' 'I have no clue what I am doing' and 'why am I here' while my mom and grandma always raved about how cute I look in that heavy makeup lmao. Because apparently I never looked out to the crowd, I always watched what the other kids were doing and tried to keep up. 😂 I think I must've been like. 5 at the time.

I think?? I did one lesson with horse riding, but even though I enjoyed it, I was never taken back to it. But I was so little and I realize now that costs are expensive l m a o.

I think I went to tennis practice two times in elementary and was done. They tried to put me in cheerleading classes, which was laughable, I did one class and said no. Karate...was more interesting in middle school since it was the first time I chose it, but I was frustrated that I could never remember what to do during performances and my parents were never supportive anyway since they wanted me to be in the "girly girl" sports.

All in all, all the personal sports memories I have are rather negative, which was unfortunate.

13. How tall are you? 5 foot 3 inches. s m o l l.

14. Favourite subject in school? Other than art, I loved when the football coaches in high school taught history because they made it fun.

15. Dream job? I would absolutely love to do something with my art. Currently, taking baby steps to make them feel achievable. Current SMALL dream is to open up an etsy to run on side while working a job. I got a heat press to make shirts, and I got a cricut to make all sorts of others things.

tagging: YOU tagged by: @yukikorogashi (thank you friendo!)

#&&. the author speaks ( ooc ) #&&. memes ( answered )

[selfindulgenttiger]

Childhood Clues

I was discussing with someone today the fact that, to be diagnosed with autism as an adult, you have to have shown signs in early childhood. Depending who you ask, that's before age 6, age 8, age 11, or age 18. With so many people (women most often) being diagnosed as adults, some people are questioning the frequency of diagnosis. (Untreated C-PTSD and PTSD symptoms can manifest very similarly to autism.) That started me reflecting on my own childhood behavior and what clues were missed or dismissed. I wanted to catalogue them (because I'm autistic and that's what we do with information). This is stuff from early childhood to pre-teen years. Category A: Deficits in social communication and social interaction

This area of the diagnostic criteria is the hardest for me to judge, because you don't really see your own deficits in this area. If you don't understand what the social rules are, you don't see how you are breaking them. What I can say is that I never made friends easily, and I wasn't particularly bothered by that until I was old enough to realize I was perceived as weird because of it. From second through fourth grade, I don't remember having a friend. I typically spent recess walking in a circle around my favorite tree, which I enjoyed. I was the outsider everywhere. I didn't make friends in Brownies, I didn't make friends in my performing arts classes, I was even "the weird kid" among the gifted kids. Another part of this is your nonverbal communication. There are literally dozens of photos of me with a flat affect from early childhood. Smiling never came naturally to my face. And I assume there was something off about my eye contact and general manners, because I remember my dad explicitly teaching me to make eye contact, smile, use people's names, and express warmth. (He had read it in a book, so obviously this was novel information to Dad, too, that he felt compelled to share.)

Category B: Repetitive behaviors and restricted interests.

This? Not so hard to spot. I knew I was different in this way. I just didn't understand that it meant something. The first point is basically stimming. Where to begin? Lifelong constant knuckle-cracking. Nail, cuticle, and lip biting till I'd bleed. Knee-bouncing. Echolalia in the form of this high-pitched screech sound I enjoyed making, and singing the same songs again and again and again and again. (I still sing them when I'm really stressed.) My interests were definitely what they mean by "restricted interests" which is basically what we'd call "obsessed" in the lay vernacular. Like I became obsessed with mice from around 7-12. I accumulated 41 mouse stuffed toys that I did not play with but arranged in a tableau. I wanted pet mice, even though they're very short-lived compared to other pets and I'd have total meltdowns when one died. I would talk my parents into getting me another and tell them I'd be able to handle it this time, but I never could. (I also collected Weebles, Barbies, Smurfs, and Cabbage Patch Kids, but no other stuffed animals. Most kids have a mixture of different stuffed animals, but I only wanted mice. I didn't actually really play with the other toys either. I just liked having collections and creating tableaux.) Star Trek was such a fixation from elementary school on. Every year they'd have a 3-day Labor Day weekend marathon on one of our local stations. I would try to stay up for all three days. One year, on day three, I yanked the phone out of the wall for having the temerity to keep ringing during a favorite episode. I had all 79 episode titles and descriptions memorized. I sneakily studied my uncle's copy of the technical manual for the Enterprise, even though he didn't want me touching it because it was collectible. One of the greatest disappointments of my young life was not convincing my parents to take me to the convention. I never played soccer or particularly liked soccer, but I went to all the Strikers games with my dad. He would buy me a program and I would memorize the roster of every team. Then when he'd say "great play by number 12" I would tell him all that person's stats. I didn't love the game, but boy, did I love the stats.

Another thing that falls under this category is sensory sensitivities. I had the stereotypical autistic girl hypersensitivity issues (which for the record are screaming when your hair gets brushed, rejecting blue jeans and socks because of the seams, and complaining about the sound of electricity in the walls or bugs walking). But I also have my own oddball ones, like rejecting shoes. I had to have the tips of three toes reattached before age 10 because I wouldn't even wear shoes when riding a bike or walking outdoors. My poor parents had to take me to the ER so many times. (I still cannot bring myself to keep my shoes on any more than is strictly necessary.)

I also rejected any clothing that was textured (so no corduroy in the 70s) or had heavy seams (no jeans even at the height of the Gloria Vanderbilt trend). I would steal my dad's work shirts because they were smooth. For several years, I went to school in scrubs I got at a yard sale. (Scrubs. In middle school. You can guess how that went.) And finally, of course, the overstimulation issue. I had a meltdown and ended up fighting with my mom or crying at every holiday gathering ever. I ran away from my own 10th birthday party and hid for half an hour because my grandmother was going to give me a kiss. My mother loathed taking me on vacation because I invariably got super excited and then overstimulated and then had a meltdown. By the time I was a teenager, she swore she'd never take me again.

When I look back, yeah, it was very clearly there but no one knew what it was. I just seemed like an unruly, melodramatic, weird kid. (And maybe not all the weird in my family.)

#autism #childhood #actually autistic

[mecdidikmen]

non-essential notes

Okay so I was little, right? Around the age of 8. Which was after I acknowledged the shadow side of the humans. Before 7 I always were finding ways to be smiling about everything. Even though my parents were separate and all that jazz, then my elementary school teacher questioned my happiness and taught me that I should be sad instead. With a year of psychological conditioning, I was where she wanted me to be.

Next year she wasn’t allowed to be a teacher anywhere anymore. That’s besides the point.

I was 8 and there’s this very old theatre/film personality living in my apartment, he loved me and I heard there was this new telly series were gonna be shoot. And I asked them with a letter, to be involved for they were searching for a kid, for a role of a kid. It was going to be great, I’d help my mum/house at an early age, bringing bread to the house -for my father was too busy wasting millions with God knows whom at the time may he rest in peace (he then had pancreatitis and lost his fortune when I was 10, then I could properly see him which made me happy, a whole other story), I’d have a legitimate reason to skip school which gave me nothing but a depressed face, it was an awesome idea. Then they said they’d take me, we met at the dinner of this show before the shooting, met with the famous actors and the director and everything. Little did I know, for fatebound reasons I was never to be allowed in such a scenario, it makes perfect sense to me now, but it didn’t back then. I was on the newspapers with the cast and everything, then I remember the director saying I looked (and I quote), “too depressed for an 8 year old.” 

And boy was he right... I used to choose these very old school grandfather glasses that made me look like a child who had 70 years on his back, that with the director’s decision -thank God, I was cast out from the cast. I was too heartbroken, for I would be going to school which I despised, and felt like the outcast I was going to be. Not being able to help my mom (which I fixed later), etc...

Thankfully I had a tree for a friend in that school of mine, and I had my best friend from the neighbourhood who had cancer was magically healing, these happened around the times I saw you in my dreams, this prophecy child I hint at some places -which hasn’t much to do with what I’m trying to tell here, before I could appreciated my several preordained paths, these things did hurt me at the time. But not for too long. For I have learned to turn inwards in a good way. At an early age, I was conditioning myself to look into the mysteries I was presented with since I could start remembering things (which is around the age of 1.5 to 2, I don’t remember before that).

Where was I leading with this... Ah, yes. What comes after is a story for another time, but let’s just say for the time being, what some didn’t recognize in me, were being recognized by others. And fortunately, by myself, too! (which is what mattered at the end of the day). My only wish is that I could hold on to those mysteries with all I have, and not derail with what life threw at me after at times. But very rarely, I was reminded, both by things I can’t quite describe, and by some very, very fortunate people with incredible sight...

It only makes sense to me now, but there’s a Mecdi somewhere in time, that wishes to talk to me, “where are you now, you should’ve invented time travel and gotten back to me by now!” he says. God I love that kid, but you see he needs to learn, I can only do so much for him. Kind of like what I live through now. Somethings I remember like it is happening now, and some, only when I definitely need to. 

Perhaps to be continued...

#if it'll be essential...

[bazmichaels]

Elementary School

One day, when I was just a small child, my mother got me up early, fed me some breakfast, told me to wear some snazzy 1960s clothing she laid out for me, put me and my sister in her car, took me into a strange building, introduced me to a strange lady, and turned around and left me there. Say what, now? She said some words to me about ‘school’ and ‘teacher’ and ‘pick me up afterwards’, but, frankly, I thought there was a distinct possibility that this was all a setup and I’d never see her again. I could handle it. I had my Tarzan lunch box, so I had enough supplies in it to last me – to be honest, I didn’t have the best grasp of time yet – a while. What? I’m not crying, you’re crying. Texas is infamous for its inordinate levels of dust and pollen. (Mommy!) Anyway, given my complete lack of the necessary mental and physical ability to escape this child dumping ground, I condescendingly agreed to go ahead and play their little ‘learning’ games (more like indoctrination games), eat their delicious cookies (oh my, this juice is delightful), take a relaxing nap on a very comfy blanket (hey, stop patting…my…back…zzz), and play outside with the other inmates during recess. I was pleasantly surprised (yet somewhat wistful) when my mother came to pick me up later that day. I suppose I would agree to return to this child detention center the following morning. Mother must have her reasons for it, so I would humor her. It was called kindergarten.

The following Fall, I was informed that I would be attending first grade at a local Elementary School. After having crushed it in kindergarten, I was up for the challenge, or so I thought. I was an October baby, and, as such, faced the life-altering decision of whether to start school early or late. Or rather, my mother faced that decision for me. She had me tested and I did well on the test, so she was convinced that I, her son, was a bonified genius, and should therefore begin my rigorous academic training as soon as possible. Hence, it was decided that I would attend first grade at the tender young age of five. I would turn six at the end of October and would be normal for the rest of the school year. Was I ok with this? Sure. Remember I crushed it in kindergarten. But there would be a huge plot twist. I would not be attending the local public school. I would be attending the elementary school embedded within the Northside Baptist Church. Even though the church was on the north side of town, it was a Southern Baptist institution – very southern. I remember going to some services there, and the preacher just yelled at his for being sinners and warning us that if we didn’t straighten up, we’d “burn in the fiery pits of hell” forever. For real. I don’t remember asking why I went to this school, but I did. Things I remember from first grade include having to re-learn to write with my right hand because my natural left hand was “the hand of the Devil”. I’m not kidding. My teacher would literally whack my left hand whenever I forgot and wrote with it. I also could not use my left hand for cutting with scissors. We had daily Bible lessons. Those did not go well. Apparently, my high test scores were based on my natural ability to think logically. That ability was a rather poor match for first grade Bible studies. I needed to know all the details of how the whole Noah’s Ark story went down (so many holes in that story).

How did Adam and Eve populate the entire planet? The only answer had to include incest – a ton of incest! I didn’t know what incest was at the time, but I knew brothers and sisters weren’t supposed to get married and have babies. This was also one of the many holes in the Noah’s Ark gaslight job. I can’t remember all the Bible verses we studied, but if the passage was logically inconsistent, I questioned it. I would have felt sorry for my teacher, but she kept giving me timeouts in the cloak room, so, whatever. I would subsequently attend public schools for the remainder of my education.

At Northside Baptist, we would have plays in school. I think I was a flower or a tree or something lame in kindergarten. I’d stand there and sing along with the other kids.

My big break came when I played Santa Clause in a Christmas play. I had principal lines and a solo song. In the Spring, we did a big production of The Wizard of Oz, and I was cast as the Cowardly Lion. By my mother’s account, I was brilliant. A stunning revelation! A Broadway star in the making. Great costumes! (My mom made my lion costume, which was pretty awesome.)

Well, when I went to public school, the plays were back to flowers and trees, so I abandoned my acting and singing career somewhere around the 2nd grade. Farewell, stage lights. Adieu.

My mother moved out of Gran and Daddy’s house and rented a house on Hillcrest Drive, and so I attended Baskin Elementary school the following Fall. I seemed to fit in much better there. I attended this school from second grade through fourth grade, and I don’t remember much about it. I remember my fourth-grade teacher was named Mrs. Gross, which was hilarious to all the boys, and many of the girls, in the class, and that her arm flaps would literally slap against the chalkboard when she wrote on it.

I remember the majestic sport of kickball, where my social status at school rose as my kicking distance increased – and increase it did. As I refined my timing, I was able to, in technical terms, kick the living snot out of the ball. I would practice kicking the ball in our carport. My uncle once criticized me for this, saying I should spend my time practicing an actual sport. My unspoken dream was that kickball would become a professional sport by the time I was an adult, but it turns out it laid a nice foundation for kicking a football. More on that later.

I discovered the humiliating playground game called tetherball, where freakishly tall girls could dominate the most athletic boys in the school. I did ok against normal human children, but none of the boys could even slow down the tall girls. They were relentless and vicious creatures. Tetherball is where athletic boys gain some of their first lessons in humility. Even though the life lessons were harsh, they were necessary.

We also had four-square. I don’t remember too much about it, but it seemed to be won by those who successfully cheated the best – a breeding ground for future business leaders.

Then there was the infamous game we called, inappropriately, “smear the queer”. This “game” was pure violence. It would start with a gang of pre-hormonal elementary schoolboys gathering as a mob in an open field. The alpha bully would take a ball of some sort – a football was the most representative symbol for the ensuing violence – and toss it to the first player/victim.

The hooligans without the ball wood then chase the ball carrier until someone caught up to him and knocked him to the ground, by any means possible. If the ball came loose as the ball carrier lost consciousness, it was a free ball, and anyone could pick up the ball and attempt to flee for his life; otherwise, the downed ball carrier would toss the ball to the next victim. If this was the first time you mustered up the courage to join the fray, you would be one of the first ones to get “smeared”. Now, I’m sure you’ve asked yourself by now “why in the world would these kids voluntarily go through this pain and anguish during their play time?”. I suppose it’s to show the other boys how tough they were and to establish a pecking order, or to show off for the girls who were pretending not to watch but were totally watching. Or just jousting like wild animals to prepare themselves for real battles in adulthood. I would like to apologize for the name of the activity. It is insensitive and demeaning; however, one could argue that this activity has been around for decades, and the meaning of “queer” was just “odd”, and it happens to complete the rhyme. Even so, I will never use the term except in a purely historical context.

For the fifth and sixth grade, I went to a different elementary school, Glenoaks Elementary, because my mother bought her own house. It was on Newcome Drive, not terribly far from the house on Hillcrest, but it was on the other side of the highway, so it was within a different elementary school’s boundary. My memories of Glenoaks are more vivid than those at Baskin Elementary. The first thing I remember about Glenoaks was that I rode my bike to school, and that the school sat at the bottom of an enormous, steep hill. When I went to school, I would ride down that hill as fast as I possibly could (all without a helmet, of course). Going home was a hellish climb, but I rode my bike all the time so I could handle it. I just remember one morning when I was flying down the hill and as I entered the bottom third of the hill, I heard a car coming up on me. I looked over my left shoulder just to check it out, and I drifted to the right a bit as a natural counterbalance. In so doing, it caused my front tire to rub up against the curb. I went tumbling head over heels into a grassy field. I was lucky in that I did a full 180-degree flip and sort of rolled right through the fall; secondly, I also flew completely over the cement sidewalk and landed in the grass. That nearly scared the daredevil out of me, but on the other hand, I survived; therefore, I proved that I could continue to try to break land speed records on my bike. What could possibly go wrong?

One great perk of our new house was that it was within bike riding distance of a Whataburger. I don’t like mayonnaise or mustard, so I didn’t usually bother to special order a hamburger; instead, I just ordered a large order of fries, for something like a quarter. It wasn’t long before the people that worked there recognized me, and they would just go ahead and fill up the whole bag with fries. I had to navigate a large, busy street on my bike, but it was totally worth it.

My teacher in fifth grade was Mrs. Rambo. No, the First Blood movies had not come out yet. She was very cool and maintained a relaxed but orderly classroom. We had a bee problem in the classroom. We needed to keep the windows open when it was hot, which was a frequent occurrence in South Texas. Bees were everywhere and would randomly fly into the classroom and freak everyone out. I was assigned to be one of members of the Bee Squad – an elite team of courageous, highly-skilled if lightly-trained warriors who were charged with discretely swatting any bees that came into the classroom. The leader of our team, and the alpha male of the 5th grade, was Don Hutchinson, who we naturally called “Hutch”. He already had muscles and hairy legs in the 5th grade. He would try to flirt with Mrs. Rambo, who was excellent at knocking him down a peg, but you had to admire his confidence. In the 5th and 6th grades, our playground activities turned to playing football. We had a group of very good athletes at our school, and we started to ramp up our level of competition. We obviously never played tackle football on the playground (eh hem) because, you know, that would be dangerous. Side note: every day when we went out for recess, one of the male teachers would go out ahead of us and sweep the area between the school building and the playground for rattlesnakes. He had some sort of rod that he would use to pick up any rattlesnakes he saw and put them in a bag. I was happy to take on the bees, but that teacher could have the snakes. Yay, Texas!

I don’t remember the name of my sixth-grade teacher, or anything about the classroom. You may have noticed that I haven’t mentioned academics throughout the entirety of elementary school. It’s not because I was bad at school or disliked schoolwork. I was just cranking my way through the academics in elementary school. I was neither challenged nor bored. But now I want to tell you about the best part of 6th grade. We started doing track and field during P.E. because we were gearing up for a city-wide track meet at the end of the school year. It was very exciting! I’ve been pretty stocky my whole life, so distance running was out, but I was a fast sprinter. The fastest kid was, you guessed it, Hutch, who by the end of 6th grade had grown underarm hair and even a little chest hair. No one came close to him, but the competition was fierce for the other spots that got to run the 50-yard dash. I’m pretty sure I snagged the last spot, but I would be able to run in the meet! P.E. was fun because we got to try all the events. I was decent in the long jump and ok but not great at the hurdles, and I didn’t qualify to compete in those events, nor obviously any of the distance running events. Finally, the P.E. teacher busted out the shot put, and I qualified for another event. The cool part about qualifying for the shot put is that you automatically qualified for discus. Did I know this going into the meet? No. Did our school have a discus with which to practice? Also no. It probably would have been too dangerous, anyway. OK, so let’s get to the meet, shall we? We went to a big ‘ol stadium somewhere in the city, and there were about a million kids there to compete in the track meet (or so it seemed).

I think the 50-yard dash was one of the first events, so I got to go down and warm up right away. It was very exciting. I’d seen track and field events on ABC’s Wide World of Sports, so I kind of knew how things worked, at least from the outside in, but it was very cool to be on the track. There were so many kids, they just ran a bunch of heats and took the top three times. Hutch was in one of the first heats, and he blew everyone away. His time would hold up and he won the race. He wasn’t just the fastest kid in our school, he was the fastest kid in the city. Soon it was time for my heat. I ran well – I think I was second in my heat, but I was nowhere near the top three times. I was happy just to participate in that event.Eventually, they called over the shot putters to the throwing area. There were some big hosses in this line. I believe they culled down the herd after every so many throws, and those of us who made it to the finals got maybe five or six throws. When the shouting was over, I finished 6th in the whole city. That was the last position to win a ribbon, so I got a prestigious ribbon. Right after that, they lined us up again and had us throw the discuss. Boy, was I glad they had all that netting! There were a lot of us that had obviously never thrown a discuss before, and they were flying everywhere. On Wide World of Sports, I had observed that you were supposed to spin around in the ring a couple of times and the release it at just the right time to throw it forward.

I had never practiced that, so I decided to replicate my shotput motion as much as possible. Back then, everyone just lunged from the back of the ring to the front and pushed the shot out from under their chin. I decided to do the same front-to-back lunge but hold the discus down by my side and swing it forward from my side instead of pushing the shot from my chin. I was a little worried when I saw a few dudes using the proper spinning technique and get off good throws, but I stuck to my strategy. I wound up getting 5th place in discus, even though I’d never seen one before the meet. It was a load of fun. I hoped I could be on the 7th grade track team in Junior High.

#memoir

[self-recovery-discovery]

Hi future me,

Recently I was wondering about loneliness and the concept of it. I never thought loneliness would be something I would struggle with. I'm not sure if it's because I was in a deep delusion and didn't think issues such as this can even affect me or if it was just me not being taught about things like that. My parents weren't the greatest teachers after all.

So I started searching. Have I always been lonely? But I did have friends didn't i?

Did I really?

I think I wrote about having problems with people pleasing. If not I'm mentioning it right now, but I let other people's perceptions and opinions sway me since I remember. I never asked myself if I liked someone, never asked what type of relationship I think I have with others. Just others' thoughts and words.

To this day the only person I ever thought of being my friend is that little kid I met in school. See, in my country there's something like class zero. It's a grade before starting 1st grade of elementary school. I was held back a year because I went to school too soon and it was illegal for me to go to 1st grade and preschool was not an option for my parents. So I stayed back, kids my age joining the classroom a year after me. That's where I met my first friend and that's where I started grasping the concept of friendship.

Of course I played with kids before, but I was always the oldest, always the one responsible even at the age of 4, the one looking after others so I don't think I could develop a friendship without that responsibility getting in the way. So my playmates weren't thought of as friends, I never called them that. They were simply kids from the neighborhood I played with and taken care of.

So after getting into 1st grade, and that tiny friend abandoning me for a new kid in class, I never thought of someone as "friend".

At least I can't remember anyone like that.

It was always other people pushing that idea on me, just for talking to them or tolerating their presence next to me. I didn't want anyone to get hurt because of me being mean or anything so I never disagreed. I think I still saw myself as responsible for others, because of that responsibility of taking care of the younger kids. It would make sense.

At least to me.

People used to say i got "adopted" by a friend group or an entire classroom. Perhaps that was true, seeing how I never tried to search for friends. I only ever talked to people that were in my vicinity, if i needed something from a classmate I would just ask.

I didn't have that courage in early schooling since I was getting bullied so I stayed quiet, always observing. But stuff changed around middle school and it was the lack of caring, lack of feeling that got me through that shyness. Or maybe social anxiety. I'm not sure which one.

After finishing school and getting in with not a very good for my mental health group of people I started noticing how little I cared, how I only paid attention to one person, seeing every little reaction they had, always anxious and ready to bold.

Maybe it was loneliness.

It probably was.

But it didn't came to me that what I felt was not "admiration" or "friendliness".

It was obsession.

I was obsessing over them because I was scared of them.

And I had real reasons to. So before the ship could sant with me on the board I jumped off.

I was good at leaving people behind after all.

So I cut them off.

It's one of the reasons why I started becoming aware of myself so much.

So now, I'm thinking to myself "do I consider people that called me their friend on the internet a friend as well?"

And, surprisingly, the answer to that question is no. I don't.

And I don't know how to feel about that.

I think it's time to start caring more about myself.

Is it funny that I'm being afraid of being called selfish?

Yet again someone else's opinion is still in the back of my mind.

I guess it will take a while

Best regards,

Isa

#recovery-discovery-diary #diary #Loneliness

[woodmamtoys]

"Whatever" is the best "control"-Woodmam

A child who is controlled too much will gradually turn from being a "listener" under an authoritative parent to a "slave" of his own bad habits; his bad habits are the shackles that bind him and make him suffer. It's not that he doesn't want to get rid of it in his heart, it's that he doesn't have the ability to get rid of it. 　　One day, a friend of mine asked me to chat, she came with a question for a female colleague of her unit. 　　This female colleague of hers is also one of her very close friends, who has problems with the education of her children and is distressed to death. At the same time, my friend herself often has similar worries, so she wanted to talk to me specifically about the education of her children. Our conversation started with this female colleague in her office. 　　Her female colleague graduated from a prestigious university, excellent work, people are also beautiful, good in the world, is a near-perfect woman, so is also an idealist, in love on the practice of lack rather than promiscuity, has been wasted to 36 years old before getting married. After the marriage there was a son, a son in middle age, love to death. The children of classmates over the years have gone to elementary school and even secondary school, and we often get together to lament how difficult it is to educate children. She was listening to the side and found it hard to believe that children would be so difficult to educate. 　　When her child was still in infancy, she read Tang poems to him. She had read a lot of books on homeschooling and knew that early initiation was especially important. When her child first learned to speak, she spoke to him every day in both Chinese and English. After her son started kindergarten, a psychological institute came to the kindergarten to collect data and test the children's IQ. But later the director whispered to her that her son was number one in the whole school. She felt like a successful parent and believed that she would give her best to educate an outstanding child, even a prodigy. 　　She put all her heart and soul into her child's education, from how to speak with standard pronunciation to how to grasp chopsticks and how to play, she gave careful instructions, pointing out immediately whenever her child did something wrong and telling her what to do. If a child repeatedly committed a shortcoming three times, he or she would be criticized, and if he or she committed more than three times, he or she would be hit on the back of the hand for each offense. There are always things that my child gets hit on the back of her hand every day, such as spilling the rice bowl, playing with the milk before finishing it, not saying hello when she sees her aunt, not remembering half of the words she learned yesterday, and so on. She said, I hit him on the back of the hand does not hurt, but I just hope that through this kind of strict to make the child to remember, she is confident that under such requirements children will be more and more perfect. 　　My friend said she had been to this female colleague's home several times and found that she was really devoted to her child. Although she was talking to you, she felt that her heart was always on her child, telling her child from time to time, for example, "It's time to do your homework", "The water on your hands is not clean, go wipe it again", "Don't wear These shoes look good with your clothes". 　　My friend lamented that the mother had done this, but somehow her child was getting worse and worse. When she first started elementary school, she was one of the top three students in her class, but by the time she graduated from sixth grade, she was in the bottom three. The child is now in middle school, but still no improvement in all aspects, even since childhood learning English, the results are always very low, in short, there is no trace of high intelligence. And his personality is particularly introverted, not only disobedient, but also seems to be a very nasty. His mother really can't understand, she worked hard to educate him, how to become the current situation, she feels that this is fate is playing tricks on her. 　　My friend asked me: What do you think is the problem, what is wrong with this child? 　　I thought about it and said: The problem is still with the mother. The way to improve is very simple, but I suspect that because it is simple, this mother is afraid that it is difficult to do, or she simply does not want to do it. I told my friend in her puzzled gaze, this good and strong mother, her problem is to control her children too fine and too strict. The cure is, of course, the opposite: "whatever". 　　"Whatever?" My friend's eyes widened. 　　I said, perhaps we often find a situation: parents who are particularly careful and strict with their children are mostly people who are very attentive in their work and life, and the motivation to succeed is always stronger in their lives, and their self-management is often done very well, and they belong to the kind of people who will do well and achieve certain achievements wherever they are put in their work or career. Similarly, in the education of their children, they are more eager to succeed and confident, and apply their own management to their children. However, they are basically disappointed. 　　My friend nodded and said, "Yes, yes, yes, that's right, but why is that? 　　I said, "There is a problem here. Children are not a stone, and what is left behind where the adult carving knife goes is not exactly the unilateral thoughts of the carver. If a parent must be compared to a carver, then the traces left by the carving of education are the result of the interaction between the carver and the carved. If parents as carvers do not see this interaction, ignore children's feelings, thinking that in education, children are an inflexible stone, carving what kind of long, then a diamond in his hands will become a piece of stubborn stone, or a pile of broken material - do not see this interaction, we can not talk about respect for children. One of the most typical manifestations of disrespect for children is too much control over them, that is, too much guidance or interference, and much of their normal growth order is disrupted. 　　My friend nodded thoughtfully. 　　I went on to say that I could sense from your statement that the parent was indeed very attentive, but in fact there was very little education in her behavior, but more "instruction" and "monitoring. Is instruction and monitoring education? No! If education were so simple that every parent could do what he or she wanted, there would be no more lamentations of hate in the world. The main component of instruction and surveillance is control. With basically one child in every home these days, parents have all the time and energy they need to manage their children. And it is increasingly recognized that the difference in children's education is mainly in home education, so every parent is riveted at the beginning to educate their children well. But child education is a matter of the greatest art, not of hard work. Only those who focus on the art of education will educate their children well. Blind effort and hard work will only make things worse - which explains why your colleague's child is deteriorating. 　　I went on to analyze this mother, who has actually been playing an authoritative role in front of her child, because only an authority is qualified to give uninterrupted instructions and surveillance to others. And by human nature, no one likes to have an authority standing in front of them all day long. All obedience to authority is accompanied by repression and displeasure, all of which create inner conflict - the child, of course, does not have such a clear understanding of this problem, he just often feels uncomfortable, feels that he is not free to do anything, often not satisfying adults, and this makes him feel annoyed. So he slowly becomes disobedient, without self-control, not confident, clumsy and bitter. Therefore, parents must be alert to the "too much is too little" thing, and do not act as an authority in front of the child (although in the form of gentle love). A child who is controlled too much will gradually turn from being a "listener" under an authoritative parent to a "slave" to his own bad habits; his bad habits are the very shackles that bind him and make him miserable. It's not that he doesn't want to get rid of it in his heart, it's that he doesn't have the ability to get rid of it. We adults often feel this way, too. 　　My friend said, "Yes, by your analysis, I think this is really the case. It seems that in the future, we need to control our children less. 　　I nodded my head and said it was so, so we can summarize the above ideas into one sentence: "Whatever" is the best "control". 　　My friend laughed and said that was a good summary, and said that she should remember that in her own education and tell her colleague to remember it too. I said, "You can tell your colleague this, but don't expect her to accept it. I've told many parents that for some reason, some parents are turned off by the word "whatever". 　　Seeing that my friend was a bit surprised, I told her the following incident. 　　The other day, I met a father who told his son, "When I was a kid, I had a lot of kids at home, and your grandparents were busy, so who cares about me? Your mother and I care about you and spend so much time with you every day, but you don't know how to work hard, why are you so unconscious? 　　Because I knew the father well, I said to him bluntly: you are right, it is because you were not supervised as a child that you learned to be conscious; your son is not conscious precisely because he is too "supervised". What he should think for himself, his parents have thought for him; what he should feel for himself, his parents have gone to remind him, why does he need to stay on his own this God, where he has the opportunity to learn self-management it? The father was very dissatisfied with my words, he retorted, "According to you, not to control the child, but can be a good parent, we are so attentive but wrong? He showed his dislike for me for a long time because of this. 　　This father's reaction was not a surprise. I have met many parents who have too much control over their children and always try to convince them to give their children some free space and time, to give them some opportunities to make mistakes, so I propose that they should control their children less in the future - a sure way to change the problem. But most of the time, my proposal is met with similar questions from parents. To them, asking parents to "leave" their children alone is as harsh and offensive as asking them to give up custody of their children. The truth is that they don't want to understand what I mean by "leaving" - it's not a way to diminish parental responsibility, it's a way to solve a problem, a way of thinking that requires parents to develop an internal respect for their children. 　　My friend nodded that parents always ask their children to correct this and that shortcoming; but they are not willing to accept the shortcomings pointed out to them by others, and they refuse to admit that they have such shortcomings from the inside. I also nodded, this is why it is particularly difficult to work with parents, and is the fundamental reason why many problems in children are difficult to solve. 　　We were silent for a few moments, and my friend said, "I understand all that you said. However, I have a specific question. If a child is about to take an exam, for example, a midterm or entrance exam, and he doesn't study, or a piano exam is about to be graded, and he doesn't practice properly, what should parents do, and should they not say anything? 　　I said that it is a serious problem for a child to have an important exam soon and still not study hard. But this "unconsciousness" is only the surface, which reflects a series of problems, such as lack of reason, boredom, poor self-control, immature values, lack of self-esteem, low self-esteem, and so on. To be honest, this series of problems and parents have been inappropriate management style must have a causal relationship. If parents want to control, they must change the method, and the old method will definitely not work, because his current state is a result of the "control" you have been implementing for a long time. As for the method of control, I can not give an immediate solution, I can only say that according to the specific circumstances of each child, small illnesses, small treatment, big illnesses, the more serious the child's problems, the more parents have to fundamentally change the educational methods, the more we have to come up with enough patience to find ways to develop the child's sense of self-awareness. On this point, or from my own experience to talk about it. Maybe it can give parents some insight. 　　When my daughter Yuan Yuan was a senior in high school, we gave her a portable CD player for Christmas, with the intention of letting her listen to music when she was tired of studying. But she often listened to songs while doing her homework, and went to buy CDs every now and then, and knew all the popular singers and songs of the time. Judging from our own learning experience, this is a sure way to distract her from her studies. If it were elementary school, we wouldn't be anxious if she was like this. But now it's high school, time is so precious, competition is so fierce, you have to slack off a little, others will catch up. Her father and I were a little anxious, so we reminded her that it was best not to listen to music while studying, and reasoned with her that high school homework was different from elementary school homework, not for completion, but for reflection and understanding in the process of writing. 　　The first time she said it, she just said she knew and said she didn't think it affected her studies. After a few days, we saw that she still wore headphones every day to write her homework, so we couldn't help it any more, so we said her again. This time she got a little impatient and blamed us for nagging her, saying she knew how to do it herself and telling us to leave her alone. 　　For a long time, we kept our mouths shut, but we were always anxious. It wasn't just the listening to the headphones, but mainly the whole lax attitude she showed towards her studies that made us a little anxious. At such times, we had the urge to "control" her many times, but we finally resisted. Her father and I decided that we would not bother with her anymore and let her be. 　　We think about it this way: maybe she is just new, and now study is not intense enough, to sophomore and junior year of high school study is more intense, the new energy is also over, she will naturally be nervous. Maybe she is under psychological pressure and is releasing it in this way, and the relaxation she is showing is a state she must go through to adjust herself. Maybe she's just obsessed with music. Many people become deeply obsessed with something at some point in their adolescence, and it's not good to interrupt them in a raw way - on top of all these "maybe's", we have a wise one: human learning behavior is a synthesis of two systems One is somatic and the other is psychological. A child can be forced to sit at a desk with his eyes on a book and a pen in his hand - even though his body is in place, no one can get his mind in place. If it is not of her own free will, even if we let Yuan Yuan put away her CD player, she will not be more focused on her studies because of it; on the contrary, her mind may be further away from her studies. Since Yuan Yuan said that it would not affect her study and that she knew what was best, we had to trust her words. 　　Therefore, her father and I reminded each other to keep our mouths shut and not to talk about it anymore. In this process, we learned that "not saying" is a much harder thing to do than "saying". Your child's behavior challenges your psyche every day, and it really requires parents to use enough sense and patience to defuse the matter. Of course, over time, we really don't care and really forget to mind her. I didn't notice when Yuan Yuan stopped listening to music while studying, until one day I noticed that the CD player on her bookshelf was dusty. 　　I asked about it after she got into college. Yuan Yuan said that listening to music while doing homework was really distracting, which she actually knew all along, but she just wanted to listen to it at the beginning and couldn't restrain herself. When she was in her third year of high school, she was so nervous that she didn't want anything to disturb her studies, so of course she stopped listening to it when she was doing her homework. It seems that the child has a number of things in mind, and she will definitely adjust herself if she has a motivated mind and an attitude of responsibility for herself. 　　My friend said, "Well, the more I hear, the more I understand. 　　I smiled and said, "That's about right. Seeing that she was not tired of listening to me, I went on to say that people are not born to be "governed" by others, and that freedom is the most cherished thing in everyone's bones. Children, in particular, should be able to stretch their nature and grow up uninhibited. A child is a perfectly independent world, with infinite vitality hidden in his young body. He has a potential for self-shaping and self-forming expression in the growth of his life, just as a seed has hidden roots, leaves and flowers that will grow naturally under the right conditions. Parents who have the faith and moderation of a farmer, their children will surely grow better. 　　My friend sighed and said that usually when we go to the school for parent-teacher conferences, the principal or teachers emphasize that parents should care more about their children, make more time for them, and control them more. Through today's chat I realized that, in fact, in the present day, many children's problems are not because parents are not in control, but because they are too much in control. I smiled and said, "You've hit the nail on the head. Parents need to recognize their own limitations and know that at certain stages of their children's development and in certain aspects of development, you are powerless or do not need to act - this, if you are not afraid to offend, go back to your colleague to suggest that, in her current situation, "do not act " is the best as, "regardless" is the best tube. 　　Special Tips 　　One of the most typical manifestations of disrespect for children is too much control over them, that is, too much guidance or interference, and many of their normal growth orders are disrupted. 　　Parents who are particularly strict with their children are mostly people who are very dedicated to their work and life, and their motivation for success is always strong in their lives. Similarly, in the education of children, they are more eager to succeed and confident, and apply their own management to their children. However, they are largely disappointed. 　　Is instruction and monitoring education? No! If education were so simple that every parent could do what he or she wanted, there would be no more laments of hate in the world. The main component of instruction and surveillance is control. 　　Not saying" is a much harder thing to do than "saying". Your child's behavior challenges your psyche on a daily basis, and it takes a lot of reason and patience to dissipate it. 　　A child is a world that exists perfectly on its own, with infinite vitality hidden in its young body. It has a potential for self-shaping and self-forming expression as it grows, just as a seed has roots, leaves, and flowers that grow naturally under the right conditions. Parents who have the faith and moderation of a farmer will surely see their children grow better.

Educational toys can be used to prompt children's learning abilities

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song x (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, romance, happy ending, jin has stubble lmao, smut; morning sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft sex, spooning, jin has a thing for boobs this saturday morn, everything gets so fluffy  words; 6,243

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

When you heard the doorbell ring twenty-five minutes later you were up off the sofa in seconds, heart thrumming against your ribcage as you rushed towards the entryway, a nervous kind of excitement flurrying inside your stomach. Yanking the door open, you were unable to keep the smile from your face as you saw Seokjin stood in front of you. He was dressed in sweatpants and a baggy white t-shirt which was slightly creased. His hair must have been freshly washed, soft and fluffy on top of his head, but it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while, hints of stubble growing along his upper lip and along his jawline. 

“Hi.” You were grinning by now. 

“Hi,” he murmured softly, stepping forward. Immediately you found yourself in his embrace, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent welcoming. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing the side of your face to his chest. You felt still, relaxed for the first time in days. 

Kissing the top of your head as he pulled away, he took your hands and let out a small chuckle. “I was halfway here when I realised I still had my slippers on.” 

You looked down at his feet, giggling as you spotted the blue slip ons. Linking your fingers with his, you gently tugged him forward. “Do you want head to the living room?”

He nodded, letting you lead the way, and you paused by the kitchen, turning back. “Want something to drink?”

“Water, if it isn’t any trouble.” He asked. Classic Seokjin, you thought to yourself, leaving him to sit, too polite for no reason. When you came back, handing him the drinking glass he smiled and said his thanks. You sat next to him watching him take a sip and lean over to place the glass on the coffee table. You didn’t know where to start, you had so much to say, but it seemed like he had been thinking his piece over in the car ride here. 

Exhaling, he turned to you with a serious expression. “Just before you say what you need to, I want to apologise.” He paused, seeing if you would let him continue, when you didn’t object he reached for your hand. “I’m really sorry for the way I acted Sunday. It was unacceptable and I’m really embarrassed you had to see me like that.” He sighed then, “I was just so... I was so mad that Nana turned up and spoke to you like she did. I let all my frustrations regarding Arin take over too.” He was staring you straight in the eyes, eager to make you see how sincere he was. “I never meant to compare you both and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” 

“Everyone gets angry, Seokjin. Don’t feel embarrassed because of that,” you told him. “It was just jarring to see. Plus it was all so overwhelming.” He nodded in understanding and you smiled and squeezed his hand. “I appreciate your apology regarding the comparisons though.” What was done was done, but he sounded regretful. “Have you spoken to Nana since?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, averting his gaze for a split second. He sounded remorseful. “I saw her yesterday afternoon. She wanted to be with Arin this weekend so I finished work early and drove her there. Nana…” He stopped himself and started again. “I know why she was so hurt over everything. We talked it out a little. Barely touched the surface but things are headed in the right direction. I apologised to her.” 

“That’s good to hear,” you said. There was no good only apologising to you. Nana deserved an apology just as much, maybe even more. You were glad they’d managed to be civil and you hoped it was a step in the right direction. 

“I know Arin missed school but I called Principal Jung.” Seokjin was eager to explain himself. “I didn’t go into details of course, but he said it was okay.” 

“That’s fine,” you chuckled quietly. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It was only one day.” How cute. You didn’t take your job that seriously. At least the mystery was solved though. You had stressed over nothing. He wanted nothing more than for Arin to see her mother, regardless of what his relationship with Nana was like. This extra weekend together meant a lot to not only Arin and Nana, but him too. Harsh words had been shared in frustration and anger, but he hadn’t lost sight of what mattered the most – his daughter. 

“I’m glad you talked to Nana,” you smiled, unsure how to voice all your thoughts. What mattered was he’d seen the error of his ways, and hopefully Nana had too. 

He nodded sternly. “I was out of order that day.” 

You grew serious too, hesitating before you said his name. You knew you had to ask him, knew you had to have this conversation, but it didn’t stop you from feeling slightly afraid. “Seokjin, why didn’t you tell her about us?” 

He closed his eyes briefly, shame written all over his face, and he let go of your hand to run a hand through his hair. It draped across his forehead instantly. “I made a mistake.” He was looking straight into your eyes again, chocolate irises pooling with genuine regret. “At first I didn’t know what would happen between us. It was all brand new for me – for you. Letting Nana know was the last thing on my mind, but as things got more serious, I just…” He faltered, gaze falling to his lap. “I didn’t want to burst the bubble. I was so happy. I didn’t want anything to potentially ruin it. 

“It was stupid, considering Arin could tell her at any moment. I just wasn’t thinking, I was being selfish. I understand why Nana was so hurt. I would feel the same if I found out Arin had been spending time with a man I didn’t know.” He exhaled deeply. “I took it all to heart because deep down I knew I’d done wrong.” 

You appreciated his honesty. “We were definitely in a bubble. I never even thought to ask if you’d let her know. I –”

“It’s not your fault.” He was quick to tell you. “It was my responsibility and I didn’t want to do it. I regret it now and I’ve told her that. I’m sorry to you too, it wasn’t my intention to keep you a secret.” 

You were quiet then, unsure what to say. You still had questions, still had things you needed to understand and as if he read your mind, he placed a gentle hand on your knee, tilting his head to watch you. “Y/N, is there anything else you want to know?” 

Your fingers picked at your pyjama pants, heart beating rapidly. There was one important thing you needed the answer to, it was a dumb question, you were nearly positive, but yet you knew you needed to ask it. 

“Anything you want to ask, I’ll be 100% honest with you.” He gently nudged, sensing your reluctance. 

“T-this may seem stupid,” you began, finding courage. He was Seokjin, your Seokjin, he wouldn’t judge you. However, you hoped what you had to say wouldn’t hurt him. He waited patiently for you to continue. You held his gaze. “You’re not just looking for a mother figure for Arin, are you?”

His forehead crinkled in confusion, his hand leaving your knee as he processed your words. “What do you mean?”

You felt a wave of panic. “I know it sounds stupid, but I just need to know if you like me for me.”

He watched you carefully, brow line now creasing in concern. “Of course I like you for you.” And then he took your hand, lacing his warm fingers between yours. You could see the concentration on his face as he tried to find a way to word his thoughts. “I’m not looking for a mother figure, I never was. Yes, I’d love it if Arin saw her mother every day, but I’m not trying to recreate it elsewhere. I was wrong to compare you both. Nana loves Arin, I know that, she’s trying her best, and you’re…,” he took a breath, “I would never expect you to take on all that responsibility. You’re my girlfriend, I would never intentionally put all that pressure on to you.

“Y/N, I’m Arin’s father,” he continued when you didn’t reply. “She means the world to me, so knowing that she adores you makes me happy, as does knowing you adore her. I always thought dating in my position would be really hard – that’s why I never did it. Having to trust someone that much to potentially let them into my daughter’s life, that was such a frightening thought. But it wasn’t with you.” His eyes were wide, pleading as he tried to make you see. As he spoke he used his other hand to cup the side of your face, you softened into his touch. 

“There were other worries too,” he continued to confess. “I thought nobody would want a divorced dad as a boyfriend. It’s fine, I understand it’s not everyone’s ideal, but with you it was never a problem. You accepted me and what my life involved and I’m not going to lie, that made me fall for you even harder but I wasn’t using you because I wanted some sort of permanent mother figure in Arin’s life. That’s absurd and it makes me really sad to know I potentially made you feel that way.” 

Your chest felt lighter hearing those words. Nothing like the tight, anxious mess you had felt all week. It was good to know your worst fears weren’t true. Your doubts, even though valid, hadn’t been needed. You believed every word he said. 

He lowered his hand from your face, sensing you were about to speak, and instead clutched the hands laced together in your lap. “Hearing those things you said to Nana, it made me… It overwhelmed me. Made me think that you’d been expecting too much of me this whole time, or like maybe you’d been searching for something I had no clue about.” You admitted.

You hadn’t liked being used as a weapon. It had made you feel horrifically guilty. You told him just as much, being as frank as you possibly could because he needed to hear it. 

“I understand,” he nodded. “I promise I’ll never do it again. All I can give you is my word.” 

“And I’ll believe it.” You told him, needing him to know something else as well. “Seokjin, I really do care about Arin. I’m beyond touched that she’s accepted me into her life but my place will always be different.” 

Seokjin frowned at that. “You are still an amazing person in her life though. She’s become so much happier these past few months and I can’t deny it and say that’s not partially down to you, even if it’s just a fraction of the reason.” 

You opened your mouth to disagree with him, he was being too nice, giving you too much credit, but he wasn’t having any of it. “No, Y/N. You need to hear these things. You make Arin happy too, and I think that’s a beautiful thing.” He felt you relax, smiling when he noticed you do the same. “I fell for you because of many reasons, and yes, one of them was because of how you treat Arin, but it’s not the only one.” His voice was soft as he began to make a list. You couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re sweet, caring, funny, beautiful – inside and out.” 

“You’re a real charmer, hm,” you teased.

He chuckled, but grew serious once again, giving your hand a squeeze. “You could have anybody but you chose me, the man whose life is overtaken by work and is struggling to be an OK dad.” 

“Seokjin, you’re an amazing father,” you scoffed. If he expected you to listen then he needed to as well. “You work so hard and you’re constantly exhausted but that doesn’t stop you from being one of the best fathers I know. You need to give yourself more credit.” 

“Thanks,” he said, plump lips tugging up into a half-smile. You really wanted to kiss him, it had been long enough, so you leaned forward, pressing your mouth to his. Gentle and chaste. When you pulled back he was smiling harder. You couldn’t help but join him. 

One of his hands lifted, weaving into your hair as he brought your face to his chest, the hand holding yours letting go so he could wrap his arm around your middle, holding you to him. You were both silent, content for a moment as you listened to his heart beat steadily. It comforted you, let you know that everything was okay. 

“I’m sorry if I put pressure on you,” he murmured, chin resting against your hair. “It’s just when the three of us are together it feels so right. It feels natural and I love that.” 

“I love it too,” you agreed, your face still pressed into his chest, your palm too. “But Nana is her mother and I don’t ever want to take her place.” You paused, slowly pulling away to look at him. “I want to make my own place. And I don’t know if that means being a stepmom so soon, but it’s definitely moving in that direction.” You’d had enough time to think about everything. You were more than serious about him. “I want a future with you, Seokjin. A future with you and Arin. You both mean a lot to me.” 

His mouth slowly spread into a grin, he looked and sounded unbelievably happy. “Do you mean that?” 

“Of course. I spent these past few days thinking really hard about us and what we were – what we are. I’m serious about us, and I hope you are too.” 

He pulled you into another hug, kissing your forehead. “I most definitely am, but we’ll take it at your pace,” he assured, “and Arin’s pace.” 

“And your pace,” you added, moving your head back to look at him, hands resting on his shoulders. “Nana’s too. She needs to be involved because no matter what, she’s still a part of your life.” 

It wasn’t about just you and Seokjin, you understood that now, and so did he. “I agree. I really think yesterday was a turning point for me and her. I want our relationship to be better for not just Arin, but you too. I hate that you had to witness all that.” 

“It’s okay, Seokjin. Please don’t beat yourself up about it.” He needed to let it go and move forward. You had already. 

“Listen, I, er, I’m…” He hesitated, serious once again. “I’m sorry for not telling you why we divorced.” 

Oh. In your happiness you’d actually forgotten about that. You waited for him to continue, wanting to hear what he had to say because it had been the source of some of your hurt. You rubbed his shoulders, wanting to encourage him as he struggled to find the words. 

“It’s complicated,” he started. “…Finding out Nana had been cheating on me was what triggered the divorce, but it had been over long before then. It’s… difficult to admit this out loud but for the longest time I was embarrassed. I couldn’t believe that she’d cheated on me – it was an ego thing. I didn’t care because I no longer loved her but at the same time it was mortifying and it made me very bitter.

“I didn’t tell you because you’d trusted me with your own story. I learned how cheating had affected you and my situation was completely different. I don’t know,” he sighed, unsure if he was making any sense. “I regret it now because I should have told you.” 

“I understand why you didn’t,” you said simply, attempting to process the huge chunk of information you’d just been given. “But I think, regardless of our different circumstances it still affected you in some way. There’s no right or wrong way to deal with being cheated on.” It had obviously left its mark if he was still bringing it up nearly three years later. 

He still wasn’t convinced. “But Nana was right, that’s why I got so angry. I couldn’t admit it to myself, not until this week. By sleeping with someone else she gave me a way out. I didn’t want to be the one who ended it because that would mean I was the reason for Arin’s broken home. To ease my conscience I could blame the breakdown of our marriage on her.” 

“Seokjin, that doesn’t make you a terrible human being. You need to let all that go,” you told him gently. “At the time you did what you thought was best for Arin. You thought by staying together it would give her a better life but it doesn’t work like that and you’ve realised that now.” 

You didn’t want to stick your nose in business that wasn’t yours, but you understood what had happened. By staying together they had become increasingly bitter towards one another and the result was still ongoing. There had been a lot of hurt and that would take some time getting over. 

You noticed the slight nod he gave you, a silent agreement. The sooner he accepted his mistakes the easier it would be to forgive himself. “I still should have you,” he whispered.

“That’s not important anymore,” you insisted. 

“It is.” He clutched your waist, his eyes glassy. “You shared so much with me about how you got hurt, and I kept something big from you.” 

You gave him a reassuring smile. “Well, I know now.” You weren’t going to hold it against him, it had obviously been playing on his mind the entirety of your relationship. “That’s all that matters.”  

He relented, kissing you softly, just once, unable to help himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking too these past few days. I talked to my therapist. It’s been a while. I’ve just been so happy I didn’t need to until…” Trailing off he gave an embarrassed shrug. 

“That’s good you got back in contact with her.” He hadn’t actually spoken about his therapist since your first date and you’d never thought much about it, but it was great that he knew to seek help when he needed it. 

“We talked a couple of times about everything. It was helpful.” He rubbed your back with a soothing hand. “I really am sorry my relationship with Nana is like this. There’s a lot of bitterness and hurt left over from all the years we stayed together. Maybe the truth is we should have never gotten married in the first place. We brought out the worst in one another until in the end it turned to hate, but I can’t regret it because she gave me my world.” 

“Maybe realising all this is the next step for some type of closure,” you offered. He and Nana couldn’t keep this up. They needed to get along for Arin’s sake. They had to try and salvage some type of relationship if they wanted to continue co-parenting their daughter – their world. 

“I think you’re right,” he agreed. “Now that everything is out in the open I feel so much better.” 

“I’m glad.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek.  

“So,” he hummed, sounding a lot more like himself, “where do we go from here?” 

“I think we just carry on from where we left off.” As far as you were concerned everything had been resolved. All your questions and worries had been answered. You were both on the same page now and you could move on together. “When I was waiting for you to come back with that salad.”

“Sounds perfect.” He laughed, wasting no time with kissing you, properly this time, cupping your face to bring you closer. You settled in his lap soon after, his lips soft and warm, each glide of your tongues making you realise that all you wanted to do was be with him. Always. 

“There is one change I’d like to make though,” he murmured, pulling away gradually, kisses becoming gentle pecks until he had the will power to stop completely. “I was going to wait until I took you to Paris, but maybe grand gestures don’t mean shit after I thought I’d lost you.” 

Your heart flipped inside your chest just from the look he was giving you, the sheer determination in his eyes, and the way he cupped your face firmly. You thought you knew what was coming. 

“I love you.” 

You were still speechless for a moment though, but it was okay because he was still busy confessing. 

“I know it may seem too fast and I don’t want to scare you away but I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you these past few months. I can’t remember what my life was like before you appeared in it.” 

“I love you, too,” you gushed, coming to. “Of course you wouldn’t scare me away. Everything you just said, I feel exactly the same way.” 

“Really?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. 

“It’s not too fast?” 

“Not at all,” you shook your head. You’d been worried it was at first, but you’d been upset and scared. Now everything was clear. “Actually, there’s no such thing because I’m in this 110%.” 

He chuckled then, brow line crinkling in the middle. “That sure?” 

“Mhmm,” you nodded enthusiastically, hands holding the back of your neck. “Thank you for reversing into my car.” 

That made him snort. “It’s no problem at all, but,” he leaned forward, tone serious, “I hate to break it to you, I’m in 1010%.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, ignoring his goofiness to kiss him again. Although this time there was something you couldn’t ignore any longer. “Oh my god,” you complained, itching your lips. 

“What?” He was very obviously concerned. 

“Your stubble keeps pricking me!” You whined. “What is going on?” You cupped his face, getting a better look at the situation. He did look rather handsome with stubble, you admit, but you’d keep that to yourself. “A few days without me and you forget to shave.” 

He raised a dark eyebrow. “Isn’t that a thing? When you think you’ve lost the woman of your dreams you have to start growing out a beard, right?” 

You snorted lightly. “You’d be there for years trying to grow out that thing.” 

He tutted. “Rude.” 

“But what, say that again? I’m the woman of your dreams?” You teased, pressing for more. 

“I take it back now,” he scoffed. 

“You can’t! You’ve said it now.” 

“Shush,” he laughed. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “Stop talking and let me love you.” 

It took a single press of his lips for you to listen. 

.

.

You were slow and still sleepy when you awoke the next morning, gradually coming to, your eyes still closed. It was raining, you could hear the soft patter of it against the window as you became more aware, but you found it didn’t hinder the good mood you’d woken up in. Why would it? 

Finally opening your eyes, although with effort, a soft focus Seokjin came into view, already awake and leaning over you slightly. He smiled when you saw him, a hand caressing your hip. “Good morning, beautiful.” 

You smiled back, rolling into the side of his body, making the most of your sleepy state – and your boyfriend’s warmth. “How long have you been awake?” You asked with a small yawn. 

You didn’t actually remember falling asleep last night. After you’d made up (and you were done with all that kissing), you’d asked him to stay over. You’d laid in bed, wrapped up in one another as you talked about anything and everything before your eyes had started to get heavy, Seokjin’s voice and your own sounding distant in no time. And now you were here. 

“A few minutes,” he murmured, morning voice always an octave lower. It never stopped being sexy. You tangled your legs in his as he laid back down and realised his were now bare – he must have gotten too warm in the middle of the night. 

He cupped your face, wanting you to look at him. “I was using the time to admire you.” 

“Cheesy as always,” you chuckled. 

“Of course,” he agreed easily, leaning in to rub his nose against yours. “I woke up and thought last night might have been a dream.”  

“It wasn’t,” you whispered, getting lost in his eyes for a moment. 

“I love you.” 

With a soft groan you rolled onto your back. “Not fair, I was about to say that.” 

“Too bad,” he laughed, that deep morning chuckle you loved, wrapping his arm around your middle as he kissed your cheek. “You snooze you lose.” 

“I wasn’t snoozing.” 

“You were – and snoring. I heard you.” He was trailing kisses along your jaw now. 

“You didn’t!” You exclaimed. That was something you definitely did not do. “I don’t snore, take that back!” 

You attempted to wriggle out of his hold but he wasn’t having any of it, both of his hands beginning to tickle your sides. “Seokjin!” You shrieked, starting to thrust your legs but he rolled on top of you, caging your body easily. 

He stilled all movement and looked down, having way too much fun teasing you. “What?” 

Before you could even think to reply he was kissing you. Somewhere along the way last night you’d gotten used to the stubble, quite liking the tingle across your lips now, so you didn’t gripe this morning. Holding your face he trailed wet kisses down your throat, teeth gently sinking into your collarbone. You let out a gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed against his body, eager for more of his mouth. 

His hands soon began roaming your body, slipping under your pyjama shirt to caress your skin. His fingers delicately traced the underside of your breasts, lifting his head up to kiss your mouth once before he spoke his request. “Can I see you?”

You smiled and nodded, watching as he started to undo the buttons with expertise. When you were fully revealed he looked at you with a grin. “Woah,” he stated simply. 

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen them before,” you giggled. 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure they’ve gotten bigger.” He mused, weighing your breasts in his hands. 

You snorted, mouth dropping open when he captured one of your nipples between his lips. His used his hand to palm the other breast, pinching the nipple with his fingers and you moaned, arching into his touch. Against your crotch you could feel him growing hard – rapidly. 

“Take this off,” you urged, tugging at his t-shirt. Your need for him was rising too, breathing becoming unsteady as Seokjin kneeled upright and ripped the piece of clothing off. You sat up, running your hands across the muscular swell of his chest. “Yup,” you nodded to yourself, “definitely gotten bigger.” 

He chuckled quietly – shyly almost, and helped you take your shirt off, kissing across your shoulder as he eased you back against the pillows. Next, he got you out of your pyjama bottoms, kissing his way back up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts as his hand slid between your legs, rubbing you above your underwear. Squirming, warmth flooding you as his mouth found yours, your tongues mashing together in haste, your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. 

He slipped his hand inside your panties and loved what he found. “You’re so wet, honey,” he murmured, playfulness in his tone as he circled your clit with the pad of finger. His touch was so light it was unbearable and you whined, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. 

He circled your entrance next but didn’t enter, collecting your arousal to rub your clit again. You dug your foot into the mattress, raising your hips to get more. His dick was fully erect now, pressing into your thigh, but he was in no rush, fully devoted when it came to pleasuring you. Dragging your underwear down your thighs, you helped push them off entirely, reaching for him and pulling him into a kiss, although he didn’t stay at your mouth long, kissing across your chest and down your stomach until he met his destination. 

He didn’t get very far though, his hot breath making you wriggle about, thighs clamping around his head. “It tickles.” 

“Tickles?” He repeated in amusement, nosing your inner thigh. He kissed your bikini line, ignoring your feeble giggles. “I’m not trying to tickle you.” 

You held your breath as he placed a testing kiss against your centre, willing yourself not to squirm, but Seokjin took it slow, easing you into it, because your body had suddenly decided to turn hypersensitive in his absence. He continued to kiss your core, his tongue coming out to wash against you too, and soon enough you got used to the sensation. 

“Good?” He asked against your clit, the vibrations making you flutter. 

You nodded in reply, fingers of both hands reaching to tangle in his hair. He gave you a quick smile and then started to flick his tongue against the bundle of nerves rapidly, making your hips rise in shock as a moan drew from your throat. He gave you no time to recover, sucking on your clit now as he hummed in satisfaction. Body with a mind of its own, you spread your thighs, wanting to feel him even better. 

He got the hint, using his hands to plant your feet on his shoulders, legs bent at the knee to open you up even wider for him. He continued to suck you softly, the tip of his tongue flicking back and forth at the same time, the stimulation so glorious you were sure you had tears in your eyes. 

“Oh God, Seokjin,” you moaned as he pulled away abruptly, your head falling back against the pillow. You had been moments away from coming, you were almost positive. 

He moaned himself as he licked a strip up your centre, pushing your knees higher up your body, exposing your clit even more so this time when he rolled it between his lips your hips jerked around uncontrollably, the pleasure too much. You felt him ease off but begged him not to stop, sounding possessed. “No, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”  

He continued, his eyes on you as he made your legs tremble and you dug your toes into his shoulders, clutching at his hair. “You gonna cum, baby?” He husked. You whined in reply, hips rolling into his face with desperateness. “Give it to me then.” He told you, once again suctioning his lips to your clit. 

Your eyes clenched shut as you concentrated on his tongue, panting loudly as the muscles in your gut tightened. Your release hit you seconds later, lifting your hips up with one last burst of energy as he continued to work his tongue against your thrumming clit, your orgasm crashing through you in waves as you cried out. It was amazing, almost euphoric if you wanted to be dramatic (you did), your whole body satisfied and warm. 

Seokjin tried to ride it out as long as possible, but soon you grew sensitive, your hands detaching themselves from his hair to fall limply to your side, chest rising and falling deeply as you tried to catch your breath. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles delicately and placed your legs down on the bed before hovering over your body. He was just as out of breath, your arousal smeared across his mouth and chin, and you kissed him greedily, wanting nothing more. You could feel him rutting against you, attempting to gain just a little bit of relief, and taking pity on him you  cupped his erection over his underwear, giving him a squeeze. He groaned at the sensation, breaking away from your mouth. 

You started to rub him as best you could as he kneeled between your legs, watching your hand at work. He chuckled in disbelief. “You have me so hard, shit.” 

“That is my area of expertise,” you gloated, pulling his dick out of his boxer shorts. You ran your fist up and down it a few times, revelling in the smooth skin, thumb circling the head that was beading with precum. 

His patience was crazy this morning, enjoying the way you touched him so much he leaned in to kiss you again, panting quietly against your lips as you sped up your movements, dragging your thumb across his slit in a bid to spread his arousal. He hissed, jerking into your hand, and you just about lost it. You wanted him, no, needed him inside you. Right this instant. 

You looked him deep in the eyes, your noses practically touching as you gave him a squeeze. “Make love to me, Seokjin.” 

He broke then, unable to deny you or himself any longer. His underwear was gone in a flash, thick cock bobbing as he guided you onto your side, fitting in beside you perfectly. He wrapped his hand around your calf, lifting your leg over his to spread you out a little and then he angled the head of his cock at your entrance, kissing your shoulder as he slowly began to push inside you. 

You closed your eyes as you felt the drag, both of you groaning as he continued to fill you, his hand pushing one of your butt cheeks up a little so he could successfully bottom out. You stayed like that for a while, kissing one another, one of his arms hooked underneath your neck, hand cupping your chin, the other caressing your body, tracing across your stomach before softly cupping your breasts. The sensation had you sighing sweetly, pushing back into him and he couldn’t hold off any longer. 

He thrusted slowly, practically all the way out just to push back in, filling you up over and over. It was glorious, his rhythm eliciting moan after moan, especially as he played with your chest, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. You could hear yourself, how wet you were, and you rolled yourself onto your side more, pushing your ass into him in a bid to get more.

He got the message, speeding up as you reached behind and ran your fingers through his hair. He loved that, grunting as he spoke against your ear, “A little faster, baby?” 

All you could do was nod and respond with a garbled noise from somewhere deep within your throat, Seokjin’s thrusts gaining momentum as he started to pound against your ass, his laboured breathing blowing hot air against your cheek. One of his hands dug into the round of your ass, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he growled softly, thrusts purposeful, unrelenting. 

“Let me see your pretty face,” he panted after a few moments, pulling you into him and cupping your jaw. You twisted yourself, half flat to his sweaty chest as you spread your legs too, letting him thrust up into you. Your breasts jiggled with the force of his movements, his tongue pushing into your mouth, kiss sloppy and everything good. 

His breathing got heavier, his movements turning slightly sloppy as he adjusted your body once again so he could kiss and caress your breasts instead. A hand played with the left one as his mouth licked and sucked the right, grunts falling from his lips now as he quickly lost himself. His thrusts got harder and his teeth grazed against your nipple. When you cried out, he loved that, squeezing your boob roughly, tearing another sound from your throat as your walls clamped around him, gripping him for all he was worth. 

You knew he was done for when he sought your mouth again, chuckling huskily as you pecked kisses against his plump lips. You felt his dick pulse, thrusts messy as he chased his end, and then he stilled, groaning as his orgasm hit and he started spilling warmth inside of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you tightly once it was over, hugging you to his body with even more kisses, both of you panting softly, enjoying the come down. In fact, you didn’t want it to end. Gradually falling soft, he stayed buried inside you and made no attempts to slip out. If anything, he was damn determined to stay there for as long as possible it seemed. 

“I love you,” you told him sweetly, sweeping some of his hair out of his eyes, still engulfed by his heat. 

He smiled, practically goofy, still drunk off your lovemaking. “I love you too, of course.” 

And then it was back to kissing. 

You had a week’s worth to catch up on, and an entirety more to look forward to. 

*BONUS*

You (10:25am) Seokjin came over last night, we talked it out and made up 😊

Soojung (10:29am) Finally! ILY and I’m so happy for you best friend! But thanks for the heads up, I’ll be giving the house a wide berth this weekend See you Monday 😘

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts smut #seokjin smut #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere oikawa #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

[afictionalwhore]

Little Miss Perfect

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A/N: I have so many plans for this bad boy that’s been sitting in the back of my mind for a hot minute now after a conversation with @jadequeen88. Thank you bby for reading over this!

T/W: dubcon/noncon; religious references and religious guilt; cheating

4.5K words

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There wasn't much at all in your little town in the middle of Nowheresville: population just over 300. The nearest Walmart was at least a twenty minute drive over to the next town, but you had a Dollar General Market to do your weekly grocery shopping. There was a school that ran from pre-k all the way up to high school, where you graduated from with a senior class consisting of a grand total of sixteen. The Dairy Queen down the road from your high school did best in the region, thanks to bored, local high schoolers on Friday nights. Your town also boasted the birthplace of the state's governor years ago, but no one remembered him, having three other governors since his last term. Despite the dullness of everyday life, you were happy. You had grown up best friends and high school sweethearts with the most respected boy in town: Natsuo Todoroki.

Of course, your quaint little town also had a church, as any well-to-do Southern town would. The church was like any other Southern Baptist affair, pristine, white, and much too large for such a small town. A long hallway behind the sanctuary led to a few classrooms, a choir practice room, and a stairwell to the basement. In the basement were the kitchens, a few more classrooms, and a large empty room where church events were held that doubled as the town’s community center. This was where bingo nights for the elderly members of the community were held, and the occasional baby shower or wedding reception could be held there. Pastored by Enji Todoroki, or Brother Enji as the town lovingly referred to him, the church congregation contained essentially the entire population of your small town. Even the local alcoholic your town was very hush about would make his way to Christmas and Easter services. 

Being Natsuo's sweetheart, volunteering at the church was naturally what kept your what would otherwise be boring life busy. There was always something to be done, be it a simple cleaning of the sanctuary or helping cook for the elderly's monthly bingo nights. Not only were you Natsuo's sweetheart, but you were the town's darling, working dutifully every Sunday by Natsuo's side with the church's children. You were a natural, studying early childhood education at a small, private Christian-based university just a few hours away where Natsuo had earned his pastoral ministries degree, aiming to take over the congregation when his father retired. The old ladies of the community constantly hounded you about when you and Natsuo would get married and give the church a baby to dote on. 

"After I graduate," you would say with a smile, dusting your flour-covered hands off on the aging pink apron that had to be from the 1950s before setting a timer for the hawaiian roll sliders in the ancient oven in the church’s basement kitchen. “I want to work a little, give back to the community before becoming a full time mom.” 

This was the only thing you dared fight Brother Enji on. Natsuo, two years your senior, had already been graduated for a year, and Enji had been adamant that you go ahead and marry after he had graduated, as eager as the old women that whispered to each other during bingo nights for you two to continue the Todoroki line. 

But you would not falter, stating that while you had every intention to marry Natsuo and sign your life off as a Todoroki, the least Enji could allow you was your education. You had dreamed since childhood of teaching at the school where you and Natsuo attended elementary together. You loved children, giving your all to the church children you worked with multiple times a week, but you were not at all ready for your own. You were just barely twenty-one years old; Natsuo a young and hopeful twenty-three. The thought of having children now scared you and Natsuo both. It scared you more than saying “no” to Enji.

You may not have had the loftiest goals of your small graduating class, but you were sharp and knew that education was not something Enji would take lightly. Surely, Enji wanted an educated woman as his first, and perhaps only, daughter-in-law, seeing as Shouto was likely to move across the country for college and never come back, and Fuyumi had no intentions of marrying. Touya, Enji’s oldest son with piercings and tattoos as numerous as stars in the coal dusted skies and his hair dyed black to match, was another situation entirely. 

Everyone, Touya Todoroki included, believed that he would have left by now. Touya had tried to leave, fleeing to a state university the moment he had graduated from your pitiful high school. Unsurprisingly to you and the rest of the congregation, Touya, with his undeclared major and runaway attitude, had been swept up in the party lifestyle of state school fraternities and quickly failed his way out of college. Brother Enji had been swift to bring him back home, ashamed and embarrassed at the congregation’s whisperings about what Touya had done to the Todoroki name. So here he was, Touya Todoroki, local rebel and stain on an otherwise perfect Christian family, begrudgingly coming to Easter service, listening to his father preach and watch his perfect brother, Natsuo, clean up the mess he had made of the family reputation.

You were there, naturally, front and center and practically glued to Natsuo’s side, in your pretty pink Easter dress. The pastel flowers decorating your dress seemed to float down the modestly lengthed skirt. Touya felt his blood boil, watching perfect little you with his perfect little brother listen intently to whatever biblical nonsense his father spouted off. He stretched, his suit feeling hot and tight, as though he were trying to discreetly scratch an awkward itch. You shifted in your seat, leaning slightly more into Natsuo, blissfully unaware of Touya’s hot gaze from the back row. 

Touya knew the routine, after a brief sermon to the entire congregation, his father would send you and Natsuo off to take the children to children’s church and youth group. You and Natsuo rose from your seats in the pews after Enji's final blessing on the children, your pretty skirt twirling with you as you spun to face the children. Your smile was as bright as a porch light on a Southern summer night, and the children flocked to you like little moths. They clung to your skirt and pulled you towards the door while the older kids trailed behind with Natsuo. Natsuo stood straight, as though he were a shepherd and you were his most beloved lamb. 

Touya made eye contact with his brother as you made your way down the aisle to the back of the sanctuary where he sat with Shoto. Natsuo looked at the older Todoroki with pure disgust and hatred, as though willing the gray ice of his eyes to freeze Touya to death on the spot. Touya broke the stare with his brother only to find that his bright aquamarine eyes met your own round ones just in front of him. Your brief surprise at his presence quickly melted into pity, a sad smile gracing your face, before you were swept out the door by the children.

The anger rose in Touya as you and Natsuo disappeared with the children out the back of the sanctuary. His blood boiled so hotly he felt he may burst into flames in the middle of Easter service. Before he could stop himself, Touya found himself rising from his seat. He needed a smoke, a drink, the floor to open up and swallow him down to hell like his father prayed it would. He just wanted out of the damned sanctuary. Shoto, who was feigning sleep beside Touya, cracked his eyes open to give Touya a quick glance, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question, “where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” Touya hissed. Touya knew Shoto could see straight through the outright lie, both of the youngest Todoroki's eyebrows now raised in further silent interrogation: "really?" Touya dipped his head below the back of the pew in front of them and mimed a cigarette. Shouto shrugged and closed his eyes again. Lucky for Touya, Shoto cared just as much about their father’s godly ramblings as Touya did, perhaps even less. Who would he snitch to that Touya had slipped out of Easter service for a smoke? If Shoto weren’t at least decently scared of their father, he may have even joined Touya.

Touya left the sanctuary and strolled down the hall towards the back entrance of the church, in no immediate rush to get back to his father’s sermon. He had almost made it to the back exit doors when he noticed a flash of pink fabric rustle down the stairwell to this left, accompanied by the graceful pitter-patter of your low heels against the hard stairs that led to the church basement. 

Touya didn’t mean to follow you. He really did mean to go out for a smoke. But he couldn’t help but overhear what was unmistakably your sweet, soft voice comforting who Touya guessed was one of your and Natsuo’s youths, egging him forward to eavesdrop and hoping to catch something he could one day use against you.

You and the girl from youth, a high schooler Touya would have to guess, finally arrived at an abandoned classroom in the basement.

See. There's nothing to worry about,” Touya heard you say. “If you want, I can get rid of it for you. Just go back to Natsuo and the others before they get suspicious.”

“Thank you so so much,” the girl sniffled. "But what about you?"

“Easy,” you laughed. Touya could hear your perfect smile in the gentle laugh. “Just tell them I had to stop by the restroom if they ask about me.”

"I wish I were as perfect as you," the girl said. Touya thought he would vomit.

"Nobody's perfect," you laughed. Touya thought he'd get a headache with how hard he rolled his eyes. How much more cliche can you get?

The loud scraping of the chair against the tile floor signaling that you were leaving broke Touya from his thoughts. Lucky for him, the basement hallway was dark with plenty of shadows for him to jump into as the youth girl made her way back to the stairs to join the rest of the youth. 

You had decided to stay behind for a few moments, examining something in your hands that the high schooler had given to you. When he was sure that the girl had gone back upstairs, Touya left his shadowy hiding place and slipped into the room, slamming the door behind him and clicking the lock.

You jumped up out of your seat at the sound of the door, turning quickly with a rustle of fabric and throwing your arms behind you to hide whatever it was that you were holding.

“Whatcha got there, doll?” He cocked his head to the side, as though his question were from an innocent puppy. The fire in his eyes and the smirking tugging at his face proved he was anything but.

“Oh! Nothing,” you stammered, stepping back into the table behind you as Touya stalked forward towards you.

“You sure about that?" he smirked.

It was as though the chairs parted themselves to make way for Touya.

"Drugs maybe? Ya know, if it’s weed you’re after, you can just come talk to me. I’ve got good connections still and can hook you up better than these high school wannabes. Maybe I could get ya something a little stronger even?”

You blushed at Touya’s insinuation. Your blush grew deeper, a perfect Georgia peach flush, when you realized the closeness between you two. It was the first time you got a good look at Touya. He was handsome, as all the Todoroki boys were, but there was a sharp edge to him. While Natsuo was handsome in the way that a freshly fallen snow is beautiful, Touya’s beauty resembled that of broken glass: dangerously sharp, potentially harmful, yet mesmerizingly beautiful.  

"No, it's nothing like that," you said, lifting yourself up to sit on the table in a pitiful attempt to escape him. His fierce blue eyes staring you down made you uncomfortable at the least. 

Touya didn't notice that he had reached you during his small speech until he was towering over your smaller frame, and you were scrambling to get away. You had to bend your neck back to look up at him. Touya felt a surge of power over you. This was the first time that Touya felt you were actually beneath him. Touya had gotten a taste of dominance over you, and it was something he wanted to savor and make last as long as he could.

Touya wasn’t obsessed with you in the sense that men like him typically obsess over pretty girls like you. Sure, Touya was a man with various unsatisfied needs, and he had thoughts of dreams of kissing you, of fucking you senseless. But his feelings for you went beyond just wanting to fuck you. Touya absolutely hated you and everything you represented. You were the exact opposite of him. You were actually wanted into the family by his father. You were loved by everyone you met. You were perfect, something that Touya could never begin to hope of being.

What Touya felt for you was something he’d never felt for anyone. Touya hated his family just as much if not more than they hated him. He hated your whole godforsaken town as much as they hated him. But you were different. The rage Touya felt towards you paled what he felt for his family or your hometown. He was used to being looked at like he was worthless, less than, a stain on the otherwise spotless community, and he was content with this. But you, with you perfect ways and perfect heart, never looked at him with that disgust, instead your eyes were filled with pity everytime they fell on him. Touya wanted you hurt just as much as he was hurting. He wanted to ruin you and your perfect world, and watch the pity in your eyes turn into a hate that rivaled his own. 

Touya grabbed at your wrist behind you, causing what was in your hands to clatter onto the table and bounce on the floor below you. Keeping you firm in his grasp, Touya looked down to see a pregnancy test on the floor: positive.

“Is that yours?” Touya inquired, his mouth pulled into a sneer that caused your stomach to twist with disgust.

“No,” you flatly replied.

“Okay,” Touya mused, mocking. “So if it’s not yours, then it’s the girl that just left’s?” 

“Why does it matter to you, Touya? Who are you to judge her?”

“I don’t care what the young slut does in her free time. Or should I say, who she does,” Touya laughed more at the discontentment in your face than at his crude joke. “But I know a lot of people who would care. Number one being my dad.”

“Don’t, Touya. Please don’t say anything.”

“Would you let that poor girl shoulder the blame herself?” Touya’s brilliant blue eyes were burning into yours, causing you to freeze like a deer in headlights. “Or would you help take up her cross? Isn’t that what a good little Christian girl is supposed to do? I guess you’re not really a good Christian girl though, what with all the lying and secrets. Does my brother even know about this?”

“No,” you dropped your head to break Touya’s stare. “Nobody but me and you know.”

“What are you going to do to keep it that way?”

“Touya, what do you want from me?” Your voice trembled at the thought of how Touya could wreck your reputation with just the slightest slip of his tongue. “There’s nothing I have that you could want.”

“You have so much I want and you don’t even fucking know it,” Touya growled. 

A feeling of dread rooted in you at the drop of Touya’s voice. You looked back up at Touya with wide doe eyes, blushing under his intense blue gaze. As Touya gripped your smaller wrist in his large hands he realized the one thing he wanted to see in your eyes more than hate—fear. Touya could feel himself growing hard at your fearful expression. 

Touya pushed you down onto the table so your legs dangled awkwardly off the edge and grabbed the fabric of your skirt and lifted up, exposing your white lace panties.

“What are you doing? Touya!” you exclaimed. 

“Oh lace? What a sweet surprise; though I think black would suit you more,” Touya said, ignoring you. 

“What’re you doing? Touya! Stop!”.

“You don’t want me saying anything do you? You said there’s nothing you had that I wanted. Well that’s a lie.” Touya smirked at you while pulling down your panties. “I want to wreck this sweet, perfect pussy. Now just stay still. You’ll feel so good.”

Touya hadn’t meant to take it this far. He had only meant to scare you a bit. But seeing your fearful eyes wet with tears threatening to spill over and ruin your perfect makeup was too much for him to continue holding back. He realized in that moment that his hate for you was just a sad attempt at burying the admiration he held for you at standing up to his father about marrying Natsuo so soon. He wanted to be the one to take you. You were going to be his, not Natsuo’s, but this would be the only chance he would get at having you. Touya wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity.

Touya’s long tongue flicked out against your newly exposed cunt, licking up and down from your tight hole to your sensitive clit, getting you sufficiently wet from your own growing and betraying arousal and his spit. The ball of his piercing rolled against your clit. You jumped with a small yelp and pushed your hips against him to get away, which he mistook as a sign of pleasure.

"Don't hold back, doll. I know you feel good." Touya said. You could feel his smile against your heated flesh.

You didn’t feel good, not at first. His tongue felt slimy and foreign. You weren’t used to being spread open, and your legs felt like they were going to cramp at the angle Touya had you pinned. You felt dirty, especially as you began to relax and enjoy the sensation of Touya’s tongue against you.

As the wet noises from Touya drinking in all you had to offer increased in volume, you found your hips bucking up not in an attempt to push him away but to draw him in more. Touya slipped a finger into you, and you gasped, having never been filled before. You felt like a harlot, but the pleasure Touya was giving you overtook the guilt.

“Touya, please,” you begged, praying for Touya to finish soon, that he would take your pleas as a begging for him to stop. You mostly prayed for forgiveness.

“You close, baby?” Touya asked. You nodded, despite having no idea what you were close to.

Touya inserted another finger, curling them against your wet, gummy walls as his mouth enclosed around your throbbing bud. The sound of your panting and the wet slopping noises coming from between your legs felt too loud. It was all you could hear along with the pounding of your heart.

You felt a twisting in your gut as Touya’s finger quickened their pace. It was like a knot forming deep within you that was threatening to break, stretched too taunt at your tensing muscles. Touya lavished you in sweet praises as he continued eating your dripping pussy, humming against your clit how good you taste.

That was all it took for the knot to break. Touya finally released his grip on your thighs to allow your legs to close tight around his head. Your inner muscles sporadically twitched around Touya’s fingers, attempting to milk him. Your vision grew hazy, and you couldn’t hear anything outside the distant voice of Touya egging you on as you rode out your very first orgasm on his face.

When you had finally come down from your high, you noticed Touya supporting your legs as they trembled around his head.

“Did you feel good?” Touya asked, sickening smirk still plastered on his face.

You only had the energy to nod.

“I guess you aren’t so perfect after all. I mean look at ya, doll, cumming all over your boyfriend’s brother’s face.” Touya chuckled as you turned away, face burning in shame.

How could you face Natsuo? As you turned away from Touya a poster of the Ten Commandments mocked you. You had no hope after breaking the seventh, “Thou shall not commit adultery”. You began to cry at the thought of betraying Natsuo. Even if it wasn’t originally by choice, you were still, in your mind, an adulteress. Never being one to keep your own secrets, you feared that you were also breaking the ninth commandment, “thou shall not bear false witness”, through lie by omission. 

“So is she keeping it or what?”  Touya’s unexpected question brought you out of your self loathing.

“What?” you replied, not understanding what Touya was referring to, brain still foggy from your first orgasm.

“That girl. She keeping the baby? Or is she ya know?” “I don’t know,” you slowly said.

“Would you keep it?” Touya pressed.

“Yes, of course,” you replied in your perfect godly manner, despite just having your boyfriend’s brother’s face buried in your cunt while Easter service continued in the sanctuary above.

“Even if it were mine?” Touya asked, taking you off guard.

“I don’t know what you—“

Before you had time to question him further, Touya had pressed the tip of his cock into you.

“No no. Touya please don’t. Please.” You cried, trying to piece together when he found the time to undo his pants.

You had already given away so much of your body away to Touya and felt yourself growing sick at the thought of Touya taking away what you and Natsuo fought to save for marriage.

“Now I know it’s big, much bigger than my fingers, but you’ll get used to it.” Touya grunted as he pushed himself to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You gasped at how full you felt, and your muscles squeezed around his cock at the larger intrusion, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Hey, hey. Just relax,” Touya said. “Didn’t I just make you feel good?”

You cried, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, as Touya fucked into you, his thick cock hitting every nerve. You clutched at Touya’s arms, nails digging into his tattooed skin as you tried to find purchase. The stretch to accommodate Touya burned and the slap of his skin against yours stung. With each heavy thrust, the head of Touya’s cock knocked on your cervix, as though he were the beloved asking to cum in. 

Eventually the pain subsided into pleasure and your sobs quieted into sniffles before turning into soft moans. Your tears had dried, leaving your makeup remarkably intact.

Touya pressed a hand against your mouth in an attempt to muffle the noises spilling out of you.

"I bet you thought your first time would be perfect, didn't you?" Touya punctuated the thought with a particularly hard thrust that had your body jerking like a ragdoll. “Bet you thought your first time would be with Natsuo. Slow, soft, perfect love making, right?” Another rough thrust that would have thrown you off the small table had it not been for Touya’s other hand holding a fast grip on your hips to keep you pinned 

You answered with a sniffle and moan, and turned your head away from him to hide your tears.

“Well, princess, we don’t have the time for that shit,” Touya laughed, noticing the fat tears threatening to roll down your flushed cheeks and effectively ruin your makeup.

"I may not be perfect, doll, but I'm still pretty good, right?"

You turned your head back to Touya, blushing furiously at the hungry look in his turbulent eyes and hating yourself for how your body had reacted to his touch. The knot in your stomach was forming again, making you desperate for release. Touya laughed as you involuntarily pulsed around him, your body’s traitorous attempt at pulling him in deeper. 

"Just hang on, doll. It'll be over soon." Touya leaned down to trail hungry kisses along your neck and jaw, nipping here and there at the modest amount of exposed flesh on the top half of your body.

You whimpered at how cool Touya’s wet kisses felt against your heated skin. With no real strength in your body, you weakly wrapped your arms around the back of Touya’s neck, desperate for something to hold on to as you and Touya quickly approached your ends.

As his thrusts lost their rhythm and became more desperate, Touya’s hand left your mouth to join its twin at your hips. Touya lifted your hips slightly, giving himself deeper access into you. The new angle had your head spinning and you cried as you felt the knot once again threatening to break.

“Just like that, doll,” Touya chanted as he rolled his hips into yours, pelvic bone hitting against your clit with each roll of his hips. Your warm, wet walls squeezing around him in waves like an earthquake had him toppling over the edge, spilling hot white into you, causing you, in turn, to follow him off that ledge.

Touya laid his heavy body over you, propping himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. You took a moment to regain your breath before reality came crashing down on you.

Touya assaulted you, and you enjoyed it. Touya took away your first time, and you let him. You didn’t fight him back hard enough. You didn’t want to fight him back. You fucked your boyfriend’s brother and loved it.

You started crying, kicking and beating at Touya to push him off of you. 

“Get away from me!” you cried. You sat up painfully straight and clutched at the fabric of your dress at your chest.

Touya chuckled seeing you act like a feral kitten. He tucked himself back in and fixed his pants, acting like nothing had happened. 

“You better hurry up before Natsuo asks where you were. You’re smart I’m sure you’ll come up with some lie, you perfect little sinner.” Touya winked and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before exiting the room to join Shoto back in the sanctuary where their father was sure to be finishing up his sermon, leaving you to sit in confusion at what had just transpired between the two of you. 

You wept.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

#touya x reader #tw dubcon #tw noncon #implied natsuo x reader #mha touya

[uwuwriting]

The writings on his skin Shinsou Soulmate au

Soulmate au with communication via writing on their skin.

Oh god this is bad, I’m not happy with it at all. My original draft got deleted and I had to rewrite this at 2 am and I’m dead. I didn’t proof read it because I swear I’m gonna pass out so I’m so terribly sorry for butchering this. I love Hitoshi to the moon and back I hope he has the most wonderful birthday I LOVE HIM. Hope this doesn’t suck that much. Love ya. 💖💖💖💖💖

Rules 

warnings: mentions of bullying, some angst, fluff

When Hitoshi was young he used to believe in soulmates. He couldn’t wait to meet the person that would fit him like a puzzle piece. In the early age of five, Shinsou Hitoshi was filled with positivity and hope. Hope that in the future he would get to enjoy all the things he liked with someone special. 

He was so excited for the first day of school. some of the kids from his neighborhood would be in his class; they didn’t like him they were really afraid of his quirk and would make fun of him all the time, but he didn’t care. He would make new friends and just ignore them. Stepping into the classroom he was met with about 18 new faces. 18 possible friends. A smile spread across his face as he made eye contact with one of the kids. The boy was playing with some LEGOs as Hitoshi made his way to him. 

“Hi I’m Shin-”

“AHH IT’S THE MONSTER!!!” the boy cried out as he stumbled backwards putting a respectful distance between them. The whole class turned to look at them and one by one all the kids slowly took a step back. They were all afraid of him. They all wanted nothing to do with him. They-they.

“He’s a villain!!!”

“Someone call All Might!!!!” 

More children joined the mocking and the cries for help. A group of boys, two of which he knew, walked up to him growls leaving their mouths as -even though Hitoshi was a tall child- they towered over him. Pushing him to the ground, one of them snatched his backpack emptying the contents on him before throwing it at a corner of the room. 

“Villains are not allowed here! Jihiko-sensei will kick you out, villain!” Right on cue, Jihiko-sensei stepped into the room, her eyes landing immediately at his wide eyed face and trembling form. 

“Boys that’s rude!” grabbing his backpack she started putting back his scattered supplies.“Apologise to Shinsou right now!”

Reluctantly the four boys bowed their heads, mumbling an apology before rising their noses up in the air and walking away, leaving a terrified Hitoshi on the floor. 

During the first day of school he knew that he wouldn’t be getting new friends and with that his doubts of even having a soulmate bloomed to life. 

Middle school was not as bad as elementary. He had gotten used to the teasing and the name calling. He couldn’t say that it didn’t bother him; it really did but he had learned not to show it. Even now, years after that fateful first day in kindergarten, he had no friends. All of them pushed him away, some more politely than others, leaving the word ‘villain’ lumming over their heads as they turned him down. He was fine though. No soulmate mark had appeared but at this point he couldn’t really be disappointed. After all, someone like him -a monster, a villain- didn’t deserve to have a soulmate.

It was a normal day in his boring middle school. So boring that Hitoshi had turned to doodling on his arm. It was not a habit, he hadn’t done it before since he saw the doodles as tattoos and he didn’t want to give others more reasons to call him evil. Plus he liked his arms clean. But he was bored and it was hot and he wasn’t functioning correctly. At some point during his history class, he fell asleep. He woke up to a light tickling sensation running up his arm and a dim shine appeared on a spot near his wrist. 

‘You can’t draw….’ 

He blinked once, twice expecting the words to disappear but they didn’t. They didn’t fade, they were real. Bold black letters stared back at him as he marveled at the sight. He … he had a soulmate and he could actually speak to them. Snapping out of his trance he scrambled for a pen and thought of a response. He didn’t wanna seem desperate. Deciding on sarcasm he wrote beside their own message. 

‘Well excuse me Picasso’

 He waited for a response for what felt like centuries. This was amazing, incredible, astonishing all of those long pretty words writers use to describe their female characters in poems. Would they want to meet him? Did they live nearby? Were they the same age? So many questions swirled inside his head he almost missed the mandala pattern that appeared on his wrist. The design became more vibrant and visible as the minutes ticked by. It was beautiful. 

‘What’s your favorite color?’

‘Purple….why?’

‘Be patient sweet soulmate of mine, you’ll see.’ 

His heart skipped a beat. Oh lord he hadn’t even met them yet and he was already getting butterflies in his stomach. Slowly purple highlights started to appear on his skin, matching the black outlines perfectly. They truly were a Picasso. 

‘There now you have true art on your hand.’

‘Confident are we?’

‘Only when it comes to inter-soulmate communications.’ 

He liked them. He knew that from the first moment. A smile took its place on his face as he saw new letters forming on his skin, warmth blooming in his chest as he stared at their conversation. Soulmate...maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all. 

UA High. This is it. He was finally here. A place where heroes were made. It’s his time to show all those pesky brats that called him a villain that he could be a hero. A fine one at that. Getting placed in the general department was a disappointment and kind of a let down. He thought he did well on the exam. Apparently, having a grape quirk was more hero material than his brainwash. He wasn’t fazed though and neither was his soulmate. They hadn’t stopped speaking since their first conversation back in middle school. His day would start with a small, sloppy good morning scribbled on his wrist. They were there for him whenever he needed someone to rant to and he was always their shoulder to cry on. Well inky shoulder? They had agreed to keep their identities a secret along with their gender leaving everything to the hands of fate. 

‘She shall bring us together, babe.’ They always called him that, not that he minded. 

‘Well she should hurry up kitten.’ And he in return he given them that pet name. They never complained. He hadn’t mentioned which school he applied to, only that he would be becoming a hero. So when they mentioned something about a Bakugou Katsuki he was intrigued. 

‘Yeah he is in my class. Super annoying 0/10 would not recommend.’

 They went to the same school. What a coincidence. Maybe fate did work fast. Choosing his next words wisely he replied. 

‘So you are in class 1-A huh? Funny.’

‘How do you know that?????’

‘I’m in the general department that’s why.’

There was no response for some time. He knew Aizawa was a harsh teacher when it came to discipline, he gets a taste of his discipline every afternoon at six,  so he didn’t write anything else. Later that day, during his training, the familiar tingle distracted him. Glancing down on his arm, he totally missed Aizawa’s capture tool coming straight for his leg. Before he knew it, he was swiped off his feet and started hanging upside down from a branch of a nearby tree. 

“You are distracted Shinsou!” Aizawa sighed below him. Hitoshi read the message quickly before turning his attention back to his teacher. 

“I’m sorry Aizawa-sensei.” 

“Yeah yeah just don’t be like that during your training with my class. You remember that it starts tomorrow right?” Aizawa said as he got him down, letting him fall with a loud thud. 

“Yes sensei I know.”

“Great, now go get some rest I don’t want you passing out the moment you step in the forest.” 

Shinsou had never gathered his things quicker. Draping his jacket over his shoulders he sprinted to his dorm, an idea forming in his mind. He didn’t know if you wanted to meet him yet but he sure as hell wanted to see you. Grabbing a pen from his desk he scribbled under your previous message. 

‘Can you draw one of your mandalas on my wrist?’ 

Y/N was late. Like super late. She had missed her first alarm and had only gotten up because of the pounding at her door. She had stayed up the previous night drawing something for her soulmate. She kept messing up and redoing her work one too many times. Reaching her classroom she slid the door open and tiptoed to her seat seeing as Aizawa-sensei hadn’t gotten out of his sleeping back yet. Sitting down she let out a sigh of relief as her friend leaned over to her. 

“Late night with your soulmate???” She sang teasingly which only made Y/N roll her eyes. 

“Shut up Sky!” Soon they were instructed to put on their hero costumes and meet their homeroom teacher at the edge of the mini forest right in the outskirts of the school grounds. 

Skipping out of the girls locker room she looked down at her wrist where the mandala from last night looked back at her. She ran her fingers over the lines wishing she could see the design on the recipients skin.  

“Come on man! We’re gonna miss the intro move your ass!” Sky grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, ruining her moment of longing as they made their way to the forest. 

Aizawa-sensei was accompanied by another person. A boy almost at his height with vibrant purple hair and the most tired eyes Y/N had ever seen. He was staring at the class giving small nods when someone asked him something. 

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi. Most of you will know him from the sports festival, he fought the problem child.” Midoriya hid his face in his palms at the name. “He will be joining the hero course come next year so have fun training with him.”

Shinsou raised his hand to scratch his neck, a nervous habit Y/N concluded, when she saw the intertwining lines on his wrist. The purple stood out. It was more vibrant on her design, slightly losing it’s shine on his pale skin possibly because he received it. Was that? Was he? 

“Who wants to pair up with him?” at that her arm shot up instantly, without even thinking. Aizawa motioned for the rest of the students to find their partner as she made her way to him. He was taller up close, her head barely reaching his chin. Extending her drawn on hand she greeted him. 

“Y/N L/N, nice to finally meet you Shinsou.”

Bonus:

The house was quiet. Oddly quiet. Hitoshi let his bag drop next to the coat hanger as he took off his shoes. The TV could be heard playing from the living room but no voices accompanied it. Where was she? Making his way to the kitchen he found a bowl full with steaming soup that looked like it had just been made. He left it on the table, his first priority being to find the girl he was looking for. Slowly walking up the stair he heard a humming coming from the room down the hall. 

Once at the top he made his way to the pastel violet door, grasping the knob and pushing it open. He was met with the back of his soulmate, humming the soft tune he had heard earlier as she rocked steadily back and forth. The mess of purple hair on her shoulder raised its head revealing those stunning e/c eyes he adored so much. 

“Daddy…” the little girl in Y/N’s arms let out a low sleepy mumble. Turning around she saw her husband standing in the doorway of the nursery, a smile adorning his face as he looked at Kei. Kei, at the sight of her father, started doing grabbing motions trying to leave her mother’s embrace. Hitoshi let out a low chuckle as he took the two year old in his arms, letting her wrap her chubby arms around his neck and nuzzle into his neck. 

“Happy birthday Toshi.”

Shinsou Hitoshi could have never imagined he would be here today, holding his daughter as his soulmate stared back at him. He was happy, beyond happy actually. Words could not express. Extending an arm out to her, she took it tucking herself under his chin as one of her hands came to rest on the back of her baby. Kissing both of his girls, he squeezed them closer to him.  

 “Thank you kitten. For everything.”   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

#shinsou x reader #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou fluff #shinsou soulmate #happy birthday shinsou #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you

[swagless-talks-alot]

Memories

Middle school. 

Rusty benches, rotting lockers, and prepubescent children. 

8th period is when I learned that he would be moving away. He would get to move out of this hell hole and move to a brand new country. 

"Are you ever going to come back?" I had asked as I unpacked my History notebook from my bag. But before he could answer, his loud ass friends entered the room.  Mark was the type of guy who wasn't immensely popular himself, but people knew him and he knew people. Most were either jealous of him, or loved him, no in between. 

I would say I was more on the jealous side. Not only was he on the dance team, my friends wouldn't shut about how "nice he is" or "how adorable he is" or "how good he is at math". 

"Have you read his poems? Apparently he has a poem book."

It's not just my friends either, it's my parents too. Unfortunately for me, Mark's parents and my parents are part of the same friend circle. Which means constant comparison. Ever since elementary school. 

But it's not like they were wrong. And it didn't help that I liked him either. It may have been my 13 year old hormones, or the fact that his smile seemed to light up the world around him, but despite how sickly jealous I was, I was so entranced. I remember crying after hearing a rumour that he liked someone one day. A weird occurrence as I never cried over anything. The rumour turned out to be false because I asked him about it the next day and he said "No, who is that?". 

We were what I would call acquaintances. One of my friends dated one of his friends in 6th grade for a week before breaking up in the most dramatic way possible. 

"You know, I heard they kissed once," I remember telling Mark. 

He replied with a grimace and said, "Eww that's gross, why would you kiss someone?" 

I remember laughing and telling him that it wasn't a big deal. 

After that, we talked once in a while. If we were in the same class, we would ask each other about homework or make basic small talk if none of his friends were around. 

And so, as History class ended, the 13-year-old boy came up to me. "Sorry for ignoring your question earlier, uhh I don't know if I'm coming back or not actually. I think I'm going to be living in Korea for a while," he smiled. "Don't tell anyone about it okay?" He said playfully. "Shhh". 

He giggled, put on his backpack, and ran up to catch up with his friends. 

And that was the last time I ever saw him. 

Honestly, I was glad. I thought that the source of my insecurities was gone and that my crush on him would disappear. I was a progressive child, so I got over him quickly, but unfortunately I still had my insecurities. I thought I would never cross paths with him again and as bittersweet as it sounds, I preferred it over the constant conflict in my heart whenever I saw him. I got over my insecurities slowly, throughout high school. My life without Mark Lee, was great, wonderful even. So then why, at the thought of seeing him again, run at the chance to intern at his company? My desperate ass didn't even search him up on google because I didn't want to know what he looked like now. My view of him is still of a 5'4 teenager boy, with a high pitched voice and braces. So when I was met with a guy who looked too handsome to be real, you could expect that I was taken aback. 

Mark, who I wasn't sure was Mark, was wearing a plain black shirt and some khakis. He also had light blue hair that looked really soft but also looked slightly fried, perhaps from the dye. 

"This is Mark Lee right, I heard you were the one who was supposed to show me to the intern manager or something."

"Uhh yeah! I'm Mark, nice to meet you. What's your name?" He said enthusiastically. 

He didn't remember me. Or he just wasn't sure. I didn't want to seem insane by saying I went to his old school so I kept quiet. 

"I'm Hannah Wang, I'm from Vancouver", I shifted my weight onto my other leg nervously. 

"Wait, Hannah Wang? Did you ever go to Westwood Middle?" Mark asked, his eyes lighting up. 

He remembered. Holy shit, Mark Lee remembered me. "Yeah, I was waiting for you to say something." I said as we walked into the recording room. "You uh, glew up a lot, I could barely recognize you." 

"Ah really? You glew up a lot too- not that you weren't pretty back then- I mean not like that-" Mark panicked.

"So you didn't think I was pretty?" I chuckled. 

We began walking inside the building, and the recording rooms became visible.

"No I mean you were, and still are- ahh" Mark's face was now 3x redder than it was before. 

“You’re bold, calling me pretty and all” I laughed as I scanned the posters on the wall. “Who are they?” I pointed to a poster of 10 men who looked around my age. I noticed that Mark was on it. He was wearing a race car? jacket and had black hair with blonde highlights. 

Mark, who was noticeably all flustered, took a moment to respond. “Ahh that’s the group I’m in… one of them at least.” 

I looked at him. “You’re in another group?” 

He nervously laughed, “Yeah it’s no big deal. I’m in this one, NCT 127, SuperM and NCT Dream.” 

“Well wow…” After all of these years, he was still out here doing the most. “I expected nothing less haha” I joked. “It must be hard.” 

“Yeah.. well I like being busy so it’s honestly very fun.” He said with a smile. “Wait, you’re interning at SM but you don’t know the groups?”

“Dude, I’ve been so busy I haven’t kept up with anything. My friend told me to apply for an internship here and I accepted it as a joke because I didn’t think I’d get in. I didn’t know you became a k-pop idol until like a month ago.” 

“Oooh” Mark nodded understandingly. He started walking to some of the other rooms. “Uhh I think I’m supposed to show you to Mr. Kim? He told me to tell you that he was sorry he couldn’t meet with you in person. There’s a slight chance he might be infected..” Mark frowned. “I’ll escort you to a room where you can meet with him. You came kind of early so I need to get the other two interns as well.” He turned to look at me.  “Does that sound good?” 

I honestly didn’t hear half of what he said because I was staring at his face. “Yeah yeah sounds good!” I centered myself again. 

We went to an auditorium which was quite huge but empty. I assumed press conferences were held here. There was also a huge projector screen at the front of it which had Zoom open. 

“You can just sit at any of the tables,” Mark said. “Oh yeah Mr.Kim asked me if you were vaccinated yet?” 

I nodded. “Yep all good and immune to the virus.” I smiled. 

And then he left and I was all alone in an empty black room. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I exhaled. (Yes and the floor is made up of floor.) I also didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating. Honestly, he hadn’t changed at all. Looking at him unlocked so much nostalgia of my younger days and I blushed to myself at the thought of the journal entries I wrote about him as a child. I wanted to talk to him about so much and I wondered why I didn’t reach out to him sooner. It had been an insanely long time since I last thought about my old “rival”, and I only started pondering it when I realized I would be interning at his company. Him becoming an idol wasn’t actually too surprising, my journal entries told me that he was into dancing a lot and I do recall him performing a Shinee song at one of our “family meetups”. I don’t have a lot of memories from middle school but that’s one that I can recall pretty vividly. He was doing it with 2 of his other friends and the performance was really funny because one of the kids fell and hit his nose on the edge of the sofa. I wonder if he remembered all of this. 

I was taken out of my thoughts when two other people, accompanied by Mark, walked into the room. They were a guy and a girl who both looked a little older than me and they didn’t look like they knew each other. They both took seats at separate tables. Mark on the other hand walked up to me. 

“I think the meeting will start in a bit.” He smiled. “I have to go but good luck with everything! It’s insane how we met again after like… 7 years? Dude, I miss Vancouver so much I really hope we can talk later and catch up on everything y'know?” 

I laughed a little, glad that he felt the same way as me. “Yeah definitely! So many things changed after you left, I swear to god it’s like a completely different place.”

“Yeah I visited once on tour-” his phone started ringing. “Shoot, they’re gonna kill me. I have to go, Hannah. Uhhh I’ll see you around?” 

I smiled. “Yeah I’ll see you around.”

#marklee #mark lee #mark #nct #mark x reader #mark fanfic #mark oneshot #fluff #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #super m #oneshot #lee minhyung #leeminhyung #lee mark #mark x y/n #mark lee x y/n

[pwurrz]

have a good nap! ok i wanna preface by saying a lot of what i "defend" kizami with is both either projection, speculation or both. COPA is kinda a mess and likes being vague and occasionally shitty and ablest and whatnot. mmy defense is that kizami's writing is both misunderstood and just... plain ablest. also none of this is because we have a kizami in our system he is a cool and chill dude whos been here sense forever, however he left front like 2 months ago. this is gonna be written without talking ab system stuff and with a collective "i".

I want to start early canonically in his life. He does not have a good relationship with his parents and siblings which is just said outright to be a delusion that he is always being lied to, and when they say they care about him, that he thinks theyre lying to get him vulnerable. However, I want to go farther as to say he may be somewhat rational in this sentiment. In book of shadows, the flashback he has to his siblings has them lash out both emotionally and physically at him for harming animals. This is left unaddressed. As someone who struggles with thoughts to hurt animals and paranoia I kinda felt for him, with a lot of pent up fear, its easy (especially at a young age) to change fear into anger. he felt trapped and probably projected that fear into outward aggression. he also was left in the shadow of his siblings, struggling with getting attention, and when he did it was either because he acted out or what he assumed was lies, he would have grown up in a household where he learned social behavior was synonymous with aggression. he was also taught that violence is the answer when someone does something that upsets him.

moving foreword to his implied early school life, i want to say i dont think he was telling the truth when he said kensuke was never his friend. i want to say that so soon after discussing his fears others arent honest with him about caring at all, and his paranoia connected to relationships because i think that statement is clearly connected. ill get onto that later. Its mentioned he was violent towards students and staff, as well as more open about his tendencies to hurt animals. However, for some reason even direct talks about this doesnt harm his relationship with kensuke. the continue being friends even as kizami makes questionable decisions that lead his parents to somewhat fear interacting with him at all.

so this becomes interesting, because while the wiki states he did this as a manipulative front on purpose, i dont remember where anything EVER said that was true, but kizami seems to have mellowed out by highschool. when asked about him, kensuke speaks fondly of him, and apparently he isnt the subject of gossip, and nobody really has anything bad to say about him, even though he assaulted a kid in elementary with school supplies. he seems to have become of grounded and centered, which once again, yeah i felt that it was the same way for me in school. after facing fear on that level for so long, you just develop this "i dont care anymore. i cant care anymore." heavyheartedness where things dont really scare you anymore. thats just what paranoid disorders do. speaking of his mental health, kizami says in a self monologue he has never had empathy. while im sure this is just an ablest thing they wrote in to make him scarier considering hes supposed to be a "sociopath" as someone with ASPD... i took that personally. having a paranoid disorder as a child is very traumatizing, adding that with the re-enforcement of his fears, its plausible to say yuuya is antisocial, at least from my standpoint of an antisocial person.

early on in their exploration of heavenly host, yuuya is the rock of the group. he is rational, calm in the face of panic and danger, and doesnt even bend as low as to get in petty fights, even when threatened by kai. However ,its safe to say he isnt *enjoying* any of this, and is just not portraying panic like anyone else. He plays the part of the listener and doesnt talk a lot, hes probably somewhat shut down and tired from the shock of the situation. This is where the bad decisions start.

Yuuya kicks ryosuke down the stairs in a last ditch attempt to get ohkawa to stop mindlessly panicking and prove hes dead. this is just outright said, and is canonically the others misunderstanding him. he makes a bad decision under pressure, and in return, gets a punishment that doesnt make sense to him. this is where i bring in the idea that yuuya falls victim to the curse of the school, rather than having done all the murdered consciously, and that he has been effected more and more the longer he had been staying so far. while this is brought up in ohkawa's death, where he says he isnt even yuuya anymore, i offer this extra evidence.

yuuya genuinely enjoys working with kids.

he states he wished he had been an older brother, that if he had a younger sibling he would make a point to do a better job than his older siblings did. he wants someone to protect and watch over, which is why i think undoubtedly, the factions of the possessed kizami are entirely not his own, rather twisted, perhaps even opposite actions of his beliefs. he makes an effort to hurt yuka, which is entirely against his own personal moral code. he says kensuke was never his friend. hes loud, and makes a show of himself. he makes an effort to kill anyone who crosses paths with him. (except morishige, i guess. but thats a whole can of worms. im trying to stay centered on his own school) even though from what we have seen from a highschool kizami, he seems withdrawn, quiet, mindful of other's injuries and generally more afraid of what others think of him than anything else.

i dont want to go on for too long, but i want to say something even though it sounds gross to me. i hate to sound like those stupid school councilors i hated so much, but yuuya is genuinely relatable and i think he could have had it a bit better if he had some kind of hobby to put his energy into. instead of anyone giving him time, and teaching him how to use his emotions in a way that didnt hurt others, they literally struck him, and removed him from their life as much as they could. when hurting people for attention stopped working, he became lost. leading up to the even i would say, he probably felt tense, and considering kensuke is popular in highschool, probably was worried he was losing his only friend. and i dont know how to paint that kind of worry from a pro-social standpoint, because im not one, but he probably felt angry others were spending more time with him, seeing kensuke as "HIS" friend. its not healthy, but im not saying yuuya was. i dont think he had a good mindset, or was healthy with his interactions ,what few genuine ones we see, but i do argue that theyre not entirely his fault. his parents found it easier to ignore him, his siblings resorted to hostility, when he tries to help he is faced with fear and hatred. it would be stupid to say in that moment he wasnt also panicked, he just wasnt showing it in a way other people would recognize. i think thats why its important kensuke wasnt in that scene- he probably would have recognized kizami wasnt right.

🤷‍♂️ idk. TLDR: yuuya is a psycho and a sociopath? well so i am so i took that personally. he's clearly struggling with conduct issues, neglect and paranoia canonically but nobody ever wants to discuss that. his actions are fucked but theyre probably not even entirely his. evidence points to him just being almost fully under the effects of the darkening and hes actually just some radiohead hashtag creepy hastag weirdo loner who like. fuck, idk, hotboxes deer hunting blinds. he isnt excused by his trauma and poorly written, ablest stereotype mental illness, but it does offer some explanation. also it makes me valid but only me valid for defending him everyone else who likes yuuya needs to like. call a hotline because they are usually "attracted" to him killing people and like. uhm girl...... what.

sorry if this is impossible to read i didnt o back and check it because i dont care about anything in da world

yeah. yeah no this isn’t impossible to read it’s just a lot so i need to process it but yeah. he’s clearly written to be someone with aspd but the writing is so.. ableist it doesn’t do him any justice.

like i kind of understand his siblings point of view, lashing out emotionally when they find out that he’s hurt animals. like i’m so sensitive to animal injury and death, especially caused by humans. but kizami was a child. a young child. it was clear that he needed help, not to be shamed and yelled at.

and yeah. it’s clear that he loves kids and wants his own younger sibling to treat better than his older siblings treat him. but the copa writers.. ugh they so obviously have a little sister fetish. like that’s all yuka exists for. she has no character other than having the hots for her oni-chan. and acting like she’s 5. and.. the other thing 🤢 so of course they can’t be normal about kizami wanting a little sibling so they project all their creepiness into him.

#incest / #long post #ableism / #animal death /

[ateezmakemeweep]

on one condition.

seonghwa x reader; a walk to remember au

word count: 19k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death and terminal illness)

park seonghwa had always been a troubled boy. 

and not in the cheesy, cliche 'bad boy' way, like he's parading around town with a motorcycle and worn leather jacket. 

in the 'he has absolutely no regard for himself or others' type of way. he doesn't care if he hurts himself in an attempt to prove he's the best nor does he care if he hurts anybody with his words or fists.

this all started fairly early in his life, showing questionable behaviors at the ripe age of eleven.

it started with skipping classes, asking to go to the bathroom and then meeting his friend's outside on the field; there had never been a child sent to the principal's office as many times as him that year.

by middle school, it had quickly escalated. 

vandalizing obscene objects and words onto the bathroom stall or spray painting on the back of the school. he was intelligent though, both naturally book and street smart, so he knew to wear black attire and a mask; he was only almost caught once.

his last few years of high school now consist of women and fighting.

because if he wasn't pounding into the newest girl of the week, telling her that that was fun but she knows where the door is, he was smacking some kid's head off the pavement for no other reason than that he could. 

that he had such uncontrollable rage in his body, probably from being stuck with and accustomed to the delinquent ways of his friends, that it was the only thing to make him feel better.

because he couldn't deny it, he didn't like who he was.

you had always been a good girl. 

and quite literally in the cheesy, cliche way: sweaters and a nonexistent dating life and your nose always in a book if you weren't at the church your dad preached at every sunday.

you didn't mind your simple, solitary life. 

you had gotten used to being alone and you didn't ever care when people made fun of you for it. because you liked your sweaters and reading and even spending your days after school tutoring younger kids.

it was a place you went every monday through friday, accustomed to the children and other helpers, mainly teachers, that were in the stuffy school library. 

you were surprised to see none other than park seonghwa walk through the doors one afternoon, looking around at the layout of bookshelves and tables like it's the first time he's ever seeing it.

you tried not to watch him float around the room, a blank expression on his face as he settled for standing in front of the main desk waiting for instruction. he was leaned against the wood with his arms folded and jaw set, a very obvious distaste and annoyance present on the boy.

you continued to work with the younger 7th grader who couldn't quite grasp the concept of solving for x, ignoring the way the head teacher pranced over and spoke hushly to the boy.

"and what exactly are you doing here, mr. park?"

seonghwa felt dread fill him immediately, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teacher who kicked him out of class everyday back in tenth grade.

"tutoring," is all he says, surprised and ready to punch the older man in the mouth when he lets out a scoff.

because apparently after your third strike for starting a brawl in the cafeteria, the only options were suspension or helping out the very understaffed, depressing after-school programs along with an extra research project.

"how long?" the boy asked the principal who sat across from him, a large man with kind eyes despite the destruction the student in front of him has brought into the school since the day he started.

"the rest of the year, mr. park."

seonghwa's eyebrow raised as he truly considered suspension. 

because at least that would only be two weeks of sleeping in and dicking around, not eight months of excruciating 'volunteer' work with bratty preteens and mundane class work. 

that's why he got up and went towards the doorway, throwing a mock wink at the man.

"i think i'll take the suspension, sir."

but the chipper man laughed like he was told the funniest joke he's ever heard, rising from his throne and walking over to pat seonghwa's shoulder. 

"you'll start on monday in the library."

and now he sees he severely underestimated just how tragic today was gonna be, sitting across from a boy who's just as pissed off as him about being here.

"what do you need help with?" seonghwa finally asks after five minutes of silence, leaning back in his chair as he observes the scrawny boy.  

"i don't know, i don't even need this stupid help," the younger boy snaps, the words already getting under seonghwa's skin. "they forced me to be here."

"well, that makes two of us," he mumbles, his eyes moving to the test paper sticking out of the boy's backpack marker with red x's. "but it seems like you do need help, kid. a 42 is shitty."

your eyes widen hearing those words fall from his mouth, clearing your throat and throwing him a chastising look when he meets your gaze; he only rolls them and moves his stare into the kid's beady, brown eyes.

"now don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. open your book," seonghwa demands, the coldness in his tone visibly throwing off the boy.

you feel your heart grow heavy at the student's dejected, frustrated face, your chest burning with the need to yell at and scold seonghwa.

because that's the last way to approach a child already struggling and getting in trouble by his teachers and parents. 

he needs to be shown the problem in different ways until he finds out which one works for him and that's through someone's patience, kindness and genuine desire to help them - which is exactly what you tell seonghwa when 4:30 rolls around.

"thanks for the advice, y/n, but i think i'll be getting this shit over with my own way," he says, glaring at you before he attempts to leave.

you're quick to squeak out "wait," walking around until you're standing in front of him.

"look, i know you probably don't wanna be here," you tell him softly, gently, like the way you talk to kids who also don't wanna be doing work they don't understand. "but you can't take it out on them. you need to at least be nice and try to help him not only pass but also understand it. that's the whole-"

"I could give a shit if the kid passes or not," he snaps at you, pinched glare roaming over your face. "we're all not perfect little angels like you, y/n."

he's known you since elementary school, has watched you parade around with ugly sweaters and books and entertain the kids people avoid because they either spit on you when they talk or go on for hours about nonsense.

some people might find that commendable, that you give everyone a chance and seem to be completely pure and good, but he finds it incredibly irritating - he always had, watching you grow up through the years and feeling some sense of pity for you. 

because no one could genuinely be that kind and unbothered by the fact that they have no friends. that they smile in the faces of their bullies and give even the weirdest of kids the time of day.

"that's not why i'm saying it, seonghwa," you tell him softly. "i just want you to take this seriously. these kids need help."

"they need help when you're the one tutoring kids for fun," seonghwa scoffs, feeling himself grow more agitated and bitter as he talks down to you. "i don't know if you realize how sad that is."

but then in a strange twist of fate, it feels like you're the one talking down to him. because you can only find it in you to shake your head at him and meet his tense gaze.

"more sad than you needing to be forced to help anyone but yourself?"

whether he wants to admit it or not, your comment rings in his head for the rest of the day. he knows he's selfish and a bit of a dick but hearing it put so bluntly to his face causes his chest to churn uncomfortably.

"what does that bitch know anyway?" hongjoong coughs out after passing him a joint. "she's been a tight ass since birth."

"and it's only gotten worse with age," san says before he lets out a thoughtful hum. "but you know... she'd probably be hot if she wasn't such a prude."

the two boys in front throw him a disgusted look, seonghwa blowing smoke directly in the boy's face. 

"you're that desperate for a fuck, huh?"

san swats at the smoke around his face, rolling his eyes at his friends glassy, red eyes. 

"no! i'm just saying."

seonghwa can only picture you in his mind, sporting your ugly green sweater and worn sneakers, bare face looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and softly spoken words.

"don't see it," the boy grumbles out, hongjoong snorting next to him as he reaches out to grab the joint back.

"you know he could be on to something though," the driver says, placing the paper between his lips. "it's always the quiet ones who are freaks."

"ha, like you'd know pussy boy," san says, earning a loud smack on his mouth. 

seonghwa can only smirk at his two friends, knowing damn well you're the type of girl who's probably gonna die a virgin.

"so what do you know about acute triangles?" seonghwa asks the boy, clenching his fists under the table because how fucking hard is it to remember this?

he'd been working with him for almost two weeks now and he's been slowly making progress. 

some would say that the improvement in itself was a good sign but seonghwa was convinced if the boy had someone more cut out for this, he would've learned it by now.

he wouldn't be staring down at the blank paper with a questioning gaze on his face or religiously spend the first thirty minutes in a tense silence.

"there are....three angles," the boy says, uncertainty laced in his tone; seonghwa can only nod his head because wow, yeah, good job.

"okay. and what about them?"

the boy swallows nervously, eyes boring in to his like he's gonna help him out - he only stares back blankly, raising his eyebrow challengingly. 

and once the student sees that, remembers seonghwa's harshly spoken words reminding him to pay attention in class so they can both stop this bullshit, he blurts out "i don't know!"

seonghwa lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. the boy lets out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his pencil across the room and springing up from his chair.

"fuck this! this is so stupid!"

you watch as seonghwa just stares at the boy with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest and you just know he's trying not to roll his eyes or scream back. 

before the man can say anything 'comforting' back, the younger student stomps off and rips open the library door.

several other kids softly murmur to each other before they get back to work, your eyes moving to seonghwa who hasn't uncrossed his arms. you quietly tell the student you're working with to try the next problem by themselves, walking over to seonghwa and taking the previously occupied seat.

"he's just frustrated," you tell him softly, hoping to ease the obvious tension on seonghwa's face and body. 

you had trouble when you first started too, remember feeling dejected and upset that the kids would get mad, and thinking that you couldn't help them.

his eyes flicker to meet yours but he's quick to look away, seeing the soft compassion and care in them; it always makes him uncomfortable when someone doesn't look at him in disgust or annoyance.

"what do you want from me?"

he misses your face fall ever so slightly, a quiet sigh leaving your mouth as you shrug your shoulders. 

"i just wanna help you, seonghwa," you tell him softly, knowing it's important for both of them to get something out of this. "it might help teaching him in a different way. maybe something he can relate to more."

"and how do you recommend i do that, princess?" he snarls at you, shoving his seat back and stomping towards the exit. 

you notice the head teacher's about to say something when you catch his gaze and shake your head slowly; to your surprise, he lets the boy go with a simple roll of his eyes.

you continue working with your student until 4:30 rolls around, your eyes occasionally moving to the empty table and library door. neither seonghwa nor his student ever came back and it causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.

you wait around for five extra minutes, cleaning the tables and putting your books away before figuring both of the unmotivated boys just ditched. as you're walking out the door to your car, you hear the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.

so, albeit nosily, you peek your head in and feel your lips quirk up when you see seonghwa's tall frame next to the boy. the two of them are standing a few feet away from the hoop, a rare hint of a smile on the man's face as the both of them move around the floor.

"so this would be a....?" you hear seonghwa ask, the boy immediately responding with "acute angle! and it's less than 90 degrees," who then proceeds to take the ball from him and shoot; in a tragic turn of events, he misses.

seonghwa lets out a playful scoff as he catches the ball with ease.

"used all your brain power for that you can't even get it in, huh?" he teases, throwing the ball with one hand and watching with a cocky smirk as it shoots through.

"you're a showoff," the boy mumbles and you bite your lip so you don't let out a giggle, watching as seonghwa dribbles the ball away from the boy who chases after him. 

you leave the gym as chuckles ring through the air, feeling your heart tug at the fact in all the years you've known seonghwa, you think that’s the first time you've heard him laugh.

you're surprised to see his good mood carries over into the next day. 

sure, he's not being overly happy or nice but he's genuinely helping the student with his work, a focused expression and strong voice as he explains the problems slowly. 

you try to contain your smile, thinking maybe your hope in him isn't misplaced until you decide to tell him he's doing a good job.

"what?"

"you're working well with him," you say softly, turning to wave at the boy when you hear him say goodbye to you both. "he really seems to be getting better."

"yeah," is all he says, tone clipped and short. 

you look over to see his jaw is tight, body defensive and on alert so it's probably in your best interest to not mention you seeing them in the gym yesterday.

"it's hard at first for everyone,” you continue encouragingly. “but then i think once you break that barrier, it's gonna get-"

"why are you talking to me, y/n?"

his short, harsh tone causes your face to fall and for a split second, he feels bad. 

he knows you're just doing what you always do, showing people unwavering decency and kindness, but those are things he, both, can't relate to and finds makes him uncomfortable. 

he doesn’t want you to think just because he helped one kid out that means he's a reformed pupil.

"i just wanted to-"

"well don't," he says, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "it's bad enough i have to do this. i don't need you talking down to me also."

"i'm not talking down to you/ it's called encouragement, seonghwa."

"then don't encourage me. just ignore me the way i intend to ignore you." 

you're left alone in the library watching the door slam behind him.

and true to his word, he doesn't look your way or entertain conversation with you for the rest of the week. anytime your eyes meet, he'd quickly advert them and makes sure to be out the door the second the clock strikes 4:30.

and today, as you rush to your car in the pouring rain, you mull over in your head what you could have possibly done to the boy to make him so wary of you. 

time and time again, you've just tried to help him. give him advice and make the whole process easier for him but he just lashes out.

then again, you haven't done anything to the general population at school and they still make fun of you. and it's for the stupidest of things: your 'grandma sweaters' apparently the bane of their existence or the fact that you're studious and care about your schoolwork.

you don't allow their words to get to you, though, because you were taught to always be kind and respect others. that if people are mean to you, it's because they're unhappy about something within themselves.

even so, a part of you has always been intrigued by park seonghwa, whether it be because of his obvious good looks or some feeling deep within you that knows he's not as bad as he portrays himself to be. 

through the rain as you think, you see the drenched boy, hood up and head down, as he walks on the sidewalk.

you don’t even think twice about pulling up next to him, roll down your window and ignore the way he side-eyes you.

"do you want a ride?" you ask him quietly, surprised he's even heard you over the roar of the rain; but he's quick to shake his head silently and continue on his way. 

you let out a sigh before following behind him, asking him one more time because he really is drenched and it's starting to get dark and cold.

"you're gonna get sick," you say to him, causing the boy to stop in his tracks and stare you down.

"and what does that matter to you?"

you only raise your eyebrow at him, reaching over to open the door and smiling softly as an invitation. he rolls his eyes as he huffs, looking down at his drenched sneakers and feeling it seep into his socks.

some part deep within him feels ashamed to accept your kindness after the way he's treated you but he gets in and slams the door anyway. a real stand up guy he is.

"happy?" he grumbles. 

you only smirk as you hum softly, eyes peering down to the seatbelt buckle before going back to the road. you feel his gaze on you as you drive, a loud huff leaving him after you stop at the third stop sign.

"what?" you ask, looking both ways before taking your foot off the break.

"how the hell do you get anywhere," he grunts out in annoyance, feeling around in his pocket for a cigarette and agitated when he finds he doesn't have a pack on him.

"it appears i drive like a grandmother, too," you mumble, a snort leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

a few moments of silence pass before you stop at a red light. 

"i don't get you," he suddenly says, causing you to look over at him.

"what do you mean?"

"you really just... don't care about what other people think of you?"

you can't help but smile at the puzzled expression on his face, shrugging your shoulders as you look at him. 

"no."

his eyebrow raises, something about your soft, small smile causing him to squirm in his seat. 

"why not?"

"because why do they matter?" you ask quietly. "while i can, i'm gonna live the way i want."

a quiet hum leaves the boy's mouth, at the time not realizing how strange that sentence was coming from a teenage girl.

he just couldn't understand how a young person would want to live such a sad, quiet life between the covers of books and walls of church. how someone could go on smiling and being happy when they had no friends to make memories with.

"seems like a sad way to live," is all he finds himself saying, a smirk playing at your lips as your brain quips back with a sassy comment - but because you're you, your mouth doesn't open to respond. 

you simply shrug your shoulders again, looking back at the light just as it turns green.

the rest of the ride is silent as you make your way to seonghwa's, asking him a few times for directions until your car is sitting in front of his house.

"thanks, y/n."

"you're welcome, seonghwa."

he turns to you to see your gaze already on him, his eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. you send him a small, innocent, almost unsure smile and he feels himself grow less guarded.

"i'll see you monday?" you ask, slightly uncomfortable by the silence as you two just look at each other with uncertainty. 

the boy next to you shakes himself out of his daze, stuttering out "y-yeah.”

he slams your door shut, not hearing your car pull away until he opens the door to his house.

after your tutoring session, you stayed behind at 4:30 to make a study guide for your student and expected to be the only one there - which is why you were surprised to hear footsteps coming your way and even more surprised when you met the familiar dark eyes of-

"seonghwa," you say as you put your pen down on the table. "what're you still doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," he says, peeking at the paper before taking the seat across from you.

that's when you knew he was about to ask for something, like a pardon from this 'stupid volunteer work' (as if you have the authority to do that) or to cover for him one day this week so he can go do whatever normal destruction he does on the weekdays.

because in all the years you've known park seonghwa, he has never initiated a conversation with you.

"i'm making a study guide for my student," you tell him. "she's still having a bit of trouble so i'm hoping this will help her."

he nods his head at you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you write with concentration for a few silent minutes. 

"but i know you don't care about that," you say to him quietly before meeting his intense gaze. "so why are you here?"

he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair that seems to be out of nervousness - but in what kind of sick, confused world is a man like him nervous to talk to a girl like you?

"i need your help with something."

your eyebrow raises as you look at him, dropping your pen on the table and the noise echoes through the quiet, empty library.

"is... park seonghwa asking for my help?"

he rolls his eyes before blankly staring at you, the dead look in his eye causing you to giggle softly. 

"what do you need help with?"

your giggle and soft tone relax him ever so slightly, popping his neck to the side and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics. 

"i'm- uh, i'm supposed to write a play for my class."

"okay..." you say as you nod your head. "and you need help...writing it? editing it? coming up with ideas?"

his mind starts to swarm with slight panic and uncertainty, completely out of his element and comfort zone. he doesn't know the first thing about writing fucking plays, you couldn't pay him enough money to even sit through one.

"uh...all of it," he says with a wince. "but i know you're like... a theater geek."

you can't help the snort that leaves you, shaking your head as you look at the boy in front of you. 

"a theater geek?"

"not like that," he says, tone desperate and unsure and you can hear how uncomfortable he is asking for help. "i just mean like you're probably...good at that stuff."

"ahh, because i'm a big fat nerd, right?"

his eyes close at the horrific turn this has taken; he can't even ask you for help without insulting you. 

"i didn't mean it like that, y/n."

you watch him for a few moments, hands in his hair as his leg starts to bounce and you decide to finally put him out of his misery. 

“i'm just kidding. i'll help you."

his head snaps up immediately, face once ridden by anxiety and panic full of surprise and relief. "really?!"

"really," you say with a smile. "but i'm only gonna assist you. you have to do most of it, okay?"

"yeah, right, of course," he grunts out, already bored and over this conversation.

"and you have to take it seriously. on the days we do it, you're gonna have to be focused, seonghwa."

"i wouldn't have put myself through this and asked you if i wasn't gonna take it seriously," he grumbles, watching you furrow your eyebrows at him and quickly realizing he's falling into his dick-ish ways before mumbling out an apology. 

"i mean, of course, yeah."

"thank yo-," he says before you cut him off.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly.  he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart; but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

everything in him stills as he looks at you, trying to figure out if you're joking with him until he sees how seriously you're looking at him. he almost feels bad at the blatant laugh that bubbles out of him, his hand coming up to (fakely) wipe his mouth.

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, humor and amusement heavy in his tone. it doesn't make you feel bad because you just nod your head and shrug your shoulders.

"okay!"

"okay," he says a few seconds later, a small grateful smile on his face. "thank you, y/n."

"you're welcome."

you can't help but smile back because it really seems as if he's trying to better himself now. 

apply himself more and show people that he's more than just some 'cool' guy who gets in trouble. he asked for help and that's the first step in anything required to get better and grow as person.

but sometimes people will ask for help, receive help, and it still won't be enough. 

because just the next day, you see him in the cafeteria with his group of friends. and perhaps it was ballsy of you in the first place to see him and hold his eye contact and greet him with a smile that only led him to divert his gaze.

that should've made it obvious that going over to him was not gonna be a good idea.

but you thought you were seeing a change in him, you were so excited to see him work with the students and take an initiative to do his project, so you walk over and say hi to him.

"hi, seonghwa," you say sweetly, waving at his friends who just look at you with a bewildered expression. "do you wanna start working on your play after tutoring today?"

the second him and his friends let out sarcastic laughs, you know he's about to disappoint you.

"i think you're lost, princess," he says, tone full of venom and spite. "we'd never do anything together."

"unless, of course, you're willing to show him what's under that sweater," his friend next to him says, his eyes roaming over your body and making you back up uncomfortably.

"hongjoong," the tallest one says warningly, like he's probably the only good one within this group.

"oh fuck off yunho, she needs a little fun."

your eyes never leave seonghwa's, the tight, hard look melting slightly since his bickering friends are now distracted. the change in them doesn't make you feel any better, instead nodding your head at him and quietly saying "okay, never mind then. sorry."

the fact that you apologize makes him feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the day, even caused him to lash out at hongjoong for saying that pervy comment to you and then get kicked out of his last class.

which is how he catches you right before tutoring starts at 3:15, grabbing you by the elbow and ushering you into the tiny computer lab against your softly-spoken protests. 

he closes the door behind him and turns to see you staring at him blankly.

"just hear me out, y/n."

"i don't think there's anything to hear out," you tell him softly. "you made it obvious you don't need my help anymore."

you're about to go around him when he grabs your arm again, your body stiffening immediately causing him to let go. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have done that."

it's like the fact that he knows it was wrong is making it worse. he knew it would hurt you and make him look bad but he did it anyway to prove a point to his friends.

"but you did," you say quietly. "and i know you don't care, seonghwa, but i really thought you were trying to be better."

he lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he really knows how to fuck things up.

"i was. i am. that's why i need your help. please y/n."

a group of kids come barreling through, the girl you're working with catching your eye as she takes a seat at the normal table. you meet seonghwa's gaze that's staring down at you, eyes regretful and tense.

you know it's only because now he's not getting something out of you, not because he genuinely cares about you being upset and disappointed.

"the drama teacher is really nice," you tell him softly, sending him a small smile as you tighten your bag around your shoulder. "you could probably sit in with her and get some pointers."

"but i wanted you to-"

he can't even finish his sentence when you move passed him and out the door, his body whirling around to see you wave at the curious younger girl. 

he watches you meet his gaze once more before they flicker back down to the table, your heart sinking every so slightly because you were stupid to think he was capable of changing.

seonghwa was shocked by how much it annoyed him that you were ignoring him. 

that anytime he tried to get your attention, you would just smile dismissively and busy yourself. that you no longer lingered at the end of the day or gave him words of praise and encouragement that used to piss him off so badly.

it, oddly enough, made the next few weeks drag on even longer, his afternoons now an even more dull and dreary experience.

that's why on friday, purely out of selfishness, he ended his session with the boy five minutes early and waited outside the library like some sort of creep; if this was the only way to talk to you, it appeared he was gonna do it.

you open the door to leave, fishing through your backpack for the keys buried at the bottom, and look up just in time so you don't smack right into seonghwa's large frame.

"hi."

you narrow your eyes at him, his body and face lacking its usual confidence and smugness.

"hi."

the two of you just look at one another, your eyes confused and awaiting while his hold a twinge of insecurity and nervousness.

you had been making it a point to steer clear of him these past weeks, dodging him in the hallways and cafeteria when you noticed him and completely avoiding his presence during tutoring.

"are you gonna make me beg?"

your eyebrows shoot up at his lowly spoken words, head turning to the side in confusion. 

"what?"

"i miss your stupid encouragement, okay," he blurts out suddenly. "and i miss talking to you. i want...i want you to help me with my play."

you let out a shaky exhale, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to gauge his mood. he could just be saying all of this to get what he wants and make his life easier.

"what's wrong with the drama teacher?" you ask him. "she's nice. i'll even ask her if you can-”

"she's not you."

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, panicking slightly at how your heart and stomach just reacted; you should not be so effected by him after the way he's treated you.

"that's kind of the point," you tell him, voice strong despite the way you're shaking inside. "it seems as if that's what you wanted the other week."

he lets out an annoyed huff, taking a few steps closer to you and looking straight at you. 

"that was wrong and i'm sorry, y/n, i am," he says to you, watching your gaze soften as he all but begs you. "but i'm trying here. and i need your help."

you truly take the time to assess him, look him up and down to gauge if he really is trying -  you suppose you won't really be able to tell until you start working with him though. 

and you can't ignore the fact that, no matter how he's treated you or anyone else, he's here and genuine and asking for help again.

a sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, cursing the fact that's he's not only handsome but persuasive (or at least sly enough to pick the right victims that can't say no to helping people).

the silence that stretches between you two makes him ready to jump out of his skin, not knowing at all what to make of your flickering eyes and blank expression.

he nearly topples over when you mutter out “fine. but all the same conditions still apply, seonghwa. even if you're...embarrassed to be seen with me, we still have to do the work and-"

"i'm not embarrassed," he's quick to clarify, your eyebrow shooting up at his blatant lie. "i'm not," he repeats.

you shake your head at him before taking out your car keys and swirling them around your finger. 

"well, whatever, it doesn't even matter," you tell him quietly. "just get ready to start working next week, okay?"

the boy nods, thanking you one more time and feeling a twinge in his chest when you smile back and send him a little wave. 

he didn't expect to feel so much lighter after the conversation, no longer having a pit in his stomach or hearing that small voice in the back of his head scream at him.

but because he's not completely reformed, he distracts himself with one of the many girls interested in him or with his friends as they smoke and drive around their boring little town.

the boring little town that has an eerie little cemetery just a few blocks from his house.

most days when he walks home, he goes the opposite way because there's something very unsettling to him about death and dying and mourning. he hadn't dealt with any loss in his life properly, going off the rails when his dad left and then again with alcohol and drugs when his grandpa died.

he was actually buried right in that cemetery and for whatever reason that sunday night, something was telling him to pass by and visit.

he turns the corner and catches the sight of your hair, stopping in his tracks to watch as you open the old, iron gate and walk right in the dark cemetery alone.

"what are you doing," he mumbles curiously to himself, his interest fully peaked as he speeds up his footsteps to follow after you.

he watches you weave in and out of the headstones, backpack in one hand and blanket in the other as you stand in front of a tombstone and bow your head to pray.

if anything makes him more uncomfortable than death, it's religion. 

maybe because he's not sure himself what or who he believes in, fascinated by people who can fully put all of their faith in something that has no proof. 

regardless, he waits until you raise your head and lay out your blanket, placing a few books down next to you as you sit criss-cross style in front of the tombstone.

"so this is how you live on the edge huh? sneaking around a cemetery at night."

you jump at the teasing, deep voice, snapping your head to the side and smiling slightly at the sight of seonghwa. 

he's dressed in his usual all black, a sliver chain hanging from his neck and a beanie over his dark hair - devastatingly handsome, per usual.

"no sneaking," you tell him. "but that's you, apparently. i didn't even hear you come in."

he shrugs his shoulders as he sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. you watch him look around the cemetery with slight discomfort, his eyes focused on the back corner where a large oak tree stands.

"so were you actually following me?" you ask him, causing him to rip his gaze and look down at you. "or are you here to see someone?"

a few beats of silence pass before he answers.

"would it be weird to admit i followed you?"

a smile covers your face, teeth in your bottom lip as you try to contain a laugh. 

"not much weirder than me spending my sunday night in a cemetery, i suppose."

a short, deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rocks on his feet, looking down at his boots so you don't see his own smile forming. 

"guess that's true,” he mutters lowly but you’re able to somehow catch it. he looks up when he hears your hand tapping on the blanket-covered ground. 

"you can sit, if you want."

for whatever reason, he accepts the invitation immediately. he keeps a good distance between the both of you, his butt just hanging off the edge as he can't help but stare at the headstone in front of him.

he wouldn't dare ask about it because how can he just so casually ask which dead relative of yours you're sitting in front of?

"my mom," you say quietly, because it's hard not to know what he's thinking. "she died giving birth to me."

his eyes widen at your confession, a low curse leaving his mouth. 

"shit."

you nod your head, placing your chin on your hand as you look at the death date. 

"yeah. it's always a little weird to see my birthday as the day she died."

seonghwa watches your face as you look at the tombstone, surprised not to see sadness or sorrow but the same look of compassion and pureness that always seems to be on your face. 

and now with the glow of the moon on you, he's realizing that you are kind of pretty. in a unique, natural way but pretty nonetheless.

if he thought he was surprised to be thinking these thoughts at a moment like this, he's even more surprised when he finds himself asking, "why do you come here then?"

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, it’s also something that some get uncomfortable with or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. you don’t want him to misconstrue your gaze on him so you quickly look back at the grave as you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll just read."

he nods his head again, looking over at the grave and wondering how much this piece of stone has heard about your life.

do you tell it how people treat you at school? how much you volunteer your time to help others and make them better? maybe even how you've been trying to help him but might see him as a lost cause.

he hears the sound of a paper rustling and turns his head to see you, pen in hand, scribbling down something on your book; even though it's nosy and intrusive, he peaks over out of curiosity.

"bucket list?" he asks aloud. 

a smirk pulls at your lips as you nod your head silently, scribbling down a #4 on the page.  "do you have one?" you ask him quietly, meeting his eyes that are boring into the side of your face.

"can't say i do," he hum, "although i definitely have a lot of stuff i wanna do."

"like what?" you ask, trying not to show just how interested you are in finally getting to know something about this elusive boy. it falls flat when you see him lower his head and shrug his shoulders, immediately closing himself back up.

"i don't know," he mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed and on the spot.

you let out a small giggle, turning the page and ripping out a piece of paper before handing it to him. he looks down in surprise before taking it from your hands, your fingertips brushing and he can't help but notice how cold your skin is.

"writing it down might help."

you place the pen in between you both, letting the book lie on your lap as you lean back on your hands; his eyes can't help but fall down to peak at the page.

"fall in love, get married, see the ocean," you hear his deep voice read before he sees ".....get a tattoo?!" he asks, voice raising slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"is that so hard to believe?" you ask, a mock expression of hurt on your face. he chuckles trying to picture you with a sleeve of tattoos, your pastel pink sweater rolled up your arms and showcasing an array of colors.

"kind of, yeah," he laughs out, smiling when your own giggles rings through the cold night air.

"why do you even have one though?" he asks a few moments later, trying to distract himself from the way your giggle just made his heart swell. 

"don't only people who are like..." he cringes as he remembers you are both sitting surrounding by corpses. "don't you only make these when you're gonna die? get news that you have like a year left to live or something?"

and just like in the car that day, he doesn't think about how sadly cryptic your answer is. how odd the dreary words sound coming from the mouth of a high school girl whose only cares should be about prom or college acceptance letters.

"i could only have a year left to live," you tell him softly. "i could even only have a month left. you never really know, do you?"

he can only nod his head, furrowing his eyebrows because while your words ring true. 

"that's pretty fucking morbid, y/n."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth at his profanity, shrugging your shoulders as you turn around to look at him. 

"i guess but it's true though," you say, moving your hands side to side like you're showcasing a house and not a cemetery full of rotting bodies. "after all, look around."

a loud, surprised laugh leaves seonghwa's mouth as he looks at you, shaking his head half in amusement and half in astonishment - he’s never met anyone like you in his life.

"good point," he says, biting down on his lips desperate to quirk up into a large grin.

it's an odd place and time to spend the rest of the night sharing shy smiles and glances but it happens nonetheless.

by the end of the night, you're both convinced of something: you only further confirming your suspicions that this boy is so much more than the person he portrays himself to be and seonghwa thinking that maybe grandma sweaters and bucket lists aren't that bad after all.

the more you talked and spent time with seonghwa, the more you saw how great he was. 

you figured that night at the cemetery was a fluke, that if you ever dared mentioning it or tried to make it happen again he’d laugh in your face or feign confusion. 

so the surprise that ran through you when, at lunch, he plopped down in the seat across from you was truly overwhelming. you had looked side to side in confusion, thinking that maybe his friends all went out or that your budding friendship was all one big practical joke.

but his friends looked just as confused, eyebrows pinched together as they whispered and hit one another.

“your friend’s look confused,” you say quietly. “you should probably go back.” 

but without missing a beat, he just shrugs and takes out a tattered black notebook.

“fuck them.”

your eyes widen at his vulgarity, watching him with a curious, slightly cautious gaze before it softens as he meets your eyes. he holds out his book for you, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“i...wrote some of the beginning last night. do you wanna read it?”

the smile that lights up your face has that familiar twinge in his heart appearing, excitedly nodding as your fingertips brush when you take it. 

“the prologue,” you correct him gently as you read his opening lines. 

“the what?” he asks. 

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you continue to read, missing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you with admiration - but his friends don’t miss it. 

don’t miss the way he chooses to sit with you everyday for the next few weeks, the way your hands brush as you make edits on your paper and the way his eyes never leave you as you read over his corrections. 

“i’m gonna ask you straight up,” mingi asks when he’s over seonghwa’s one night. “what’s going on with you and church girl?”

the boy can only look up from his notebook, shaking out his aching hand as he raises his eyebrow at the boy. 

“what?” 

the taller boy can only roll his eyes, going over to the open window as he lights a cigarette. 

“you like her.”

“mingi...” seonghwa says warningly, not wanting to get into this right now; they’d been giving him shit every chance they got, poking fun at his newfound desire to succeed in school.

“i’m not giving you shit, i just wanna know,” the boy says, “because it seems pretty obvious.”

seonghwa rests his feet on his desk as he looks over at the boy, letting out a sigh when he sees how genuine and indifferent he looks. 

“i might,” he says because it’s a fact he’s been mulling over since that night at the cemetery. 

ever since then, he’s been overwhelmingly eager to see you and please you. 

he keeps wanting to show you time and time again that he’s capable of doing this work and tutoring the kids. keeps wanting to see that happy smile that lights up your face or your soft voice squealing about how good his play is coming along.

“you might,” mingi laughs out, blowing smoke out the window as he shakes his head. “you absolutely do.” 

“i’m gonna push you out that fucking window,” seonghwa grunts, a smirk crossing the boy’s face as he shakes his head.

“that’s not very holy of you,” his friend says, sarcasm and teasing in his tone. “what ever would y/n say if she found out you-” 

mingi’s words are quickly cut off by high-pitched yells as he watches a cup of pencils and pens go hurling towards him. 

and whether it be a twist of fate or just pleasant circumstances, tutoring sessions on one friday afternoon are cancelled for construction in the library. 

the both of you look at one another and somehow know it’s mutually decided that you’re gonna work elsewhere, even though it’s friday and there’s a party going on at his friend san’s house.

“we only have to work for an hour,” you tell him as you guys step outside the school. “i know there’s a party tonight.”

“do you wanna come with me?” he blurts out before he can even stop himself, shocking the both of you. 

the boy would laugh at the terrified, wide-eyed expression on your face if he wasn’t so thrown off by how quickly and impulsively he asked that. 

“i...uh...don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say quietly, eyes trained on the floor shyly. you nearly fall right down when you feel his hand on your jaw, lifting your face so your glossy, nervous eyes meet his.

“nobody would mess with you if i was there,” he says lowly, the protective, confident words causing you to swallow nervously. you only shake your head slightly, the feeling of his hand on your face so foreign and bare-minimum but sending your heart into overdrive. 

“it’s not that, i’m just... i wouldn’t do well there.”

i wouldn’t be allowed.

his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie, that maybe you actually wanna go but fear that stupid girls or guys would make fun of you for whatever idiotic reason they can think of tonight. 

your small smile assures him even further.

“i probably wouldn’t do well there tonight, either then,” he says, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at his eyes shining with certainty. you’re about to ask him to clarify when he removes his hold on your face, taking your smaller hand in his cautiously.

“what are you-”

“you drive here today?” he asks and you can only find it in you to shake your head. 

“we’ll walk to my house then?” 

you stare blankly at him before looking down at your intertwined hands, feeling a blush creep on your face as you’re successfully rendered speechless. 

you hadn’t really know what to expect or feel holding someone’s hand but it definitely wasn’t this feeling of closeness and warmth and excitement. 

when you look up and he sees the pinkness on your cheeks, he can’t help but smile. 

seonghwa looks down at you questioningly, raising his eyebrow and looking at you until you stutter out “ye-yeah that’s..good.” he intertwines your fingers and pulls you along the sidewalk, holding your hand and occasionally looking down at you the entire way to his house. 

he ends up missing the party that night in exchange for writing, editing and playfully rehearsing his lines with you. his chuckle fills the room when you dramatically read his lines, giggles leaving your mouth when he cringes at the fact he wrote some of this dialogue. 

he drove you home after the sun had set, your hands intertwined as they rest on the console. shy gazes and quiet giggles fill the car, your softly spoken “goodnight seonghwa,” ringing through his head for the rest of the night. 

and then much to his dismay, after three months of preparation and work with you, his play was due. 

you had worked together in the library one last time, your encouragement and assurance that he would absolutely get an a filling the boy with an unfamiliar feeling of pride and excitement. 

he had worked hard, you both had worked hard, and he’d never been so excited to hand in an assignment in his life; it all had paid off because he was able to showcase a big, 100% to you in red ink.

“seonghwa!” you squeal, clapping your hands in the empty library and throwing your arms around him without a second thought. “i told you you were gonna do amazing!”

he can’t even think about your words with your arms around him, the feeling of your body against him the final confirmation for him that he 100% absolutely likes you (as mingi so juvenilely put).

you feel his body stiffen and realize what you’ve done, quickly drawing your arms back and flushing as you quietly apologize. 

but just as the words leave, his arms are around you and your head rests on his chest. once you’ve recovered from the shock, you allow your own arms to slowly go back around him, the two of standing in the empty library wrapped in each other’s arms. 

it’s a strangely intimate hug for just a good grade on a paper, your arms tight and hearts pounding as you feeling a buzzing in the air changing everything you’ve worked to build over these past months. 

“do one more thing for me, y/n?” you hear him lowly ask in your ear. 

you meet his gaze nervously, biting your lip as you stare at him with a wide-eyed gaze. “what?” you squeak, your voice barely coming out. 

“let me take you on a date.”

convincing your father to allow you on a date was one thing but convincing your father to allow you on a date with park seonghwa was damn near impossible. 

“dad,” you whine for the twentieth time that day.

“y/n, i’m telling you, i’m not comfortable with this.”

“you’re not even giving him a chance, dad,” you tell him softly at the table, your eyes trained on the clock that reads 6:50. “he’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

whether your dad approved or not, you were going on this date. 

you had gone your whole life without dating or boys or even having a crush and now you were overwhelming ready to try it out. despite your nervousness and despite the fact you have absolutely no experience, you’re excited.

seonghwa has brought out something in you that was suppressed for so long, that you only read about in books or watched in other couples - now with your shy smiles and intertwined hands under the table at lunch, you’re convinced that he’s your first love. 

“y/n, i’m uncomfortable with this for more than one reason,” he says, sadness and apprehension in his tone; it makes your heart sink a little bit. 

why does he have to bring this up now? why can’t he just let you have one night to be a normal teenager?

“why, dad?” you ask, voice far too even and calm even though you already know where this is headed. he can tell too, because he grabs your hand from across the table and squeezes it apologetically. 

“i’m not trying to upset you,” he says, “i just don’t know if you should start something when...”

“i’m fine though. i feel fine.” 

his face turns into one of shock and confusion, not once hearing you snap at him; that’s when he notices that you look...different. 

a short-sleeved dress over your figure with a hint of blush and mascara on your face. your eyes flickering to the clock and door before back to him and he feels his heart pull in his chest. 

“i know you do,” he says, pulling his hand back and running it through his thinning hair. “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

“of course not,” you quickly get out. “there’s no need to tell him.”

“no need to-” the words die in his throat so he doesn’t start a fight or upset you just minutes before your first date. 

he knows that if you actually accepted to go out with a boy, you have to like him and there has to be some sort of...connection between the two of you. 

“what if this gets more serious?”

a knock at the door causes you both to jump, your neck snapping over to see seonghwa’s handsome face through the window. 

“then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” you tell him, voice serious and hushed. “just... please be nice, okay? he’s important.”

and with that, your dad watches you open the door and greet seonghwa with a smile, ushering him in as you giggle when he says something lowly. you drag him over by the hand, seonghwa and your dad standing only a few inches away from one another a sight you’d truly thought you’d never see.

“hi sir,” seonghwa says, his voice deep but friendly as he outreaches his had. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m-”

“park seonghwa,” the older man finishes, taking the boy’s hand roughly and shaking it before dropping his hold. “i see your mother church every sunday but i can’t say the same for you.”

“dad,” you whisper, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“it’s okay, y/n,” seonghwa says quietly before he looks your dad in the face. “i...probably should go more but-”

“no need to explain yourself to me, i was just saying,” he tells him, watching the way seonghwa’s face falls slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. “where are you guys going tonight?”

“just dinner, like i told you,” you say, voice tight and arm grazing seonghwa in an attempt to bring him comfort; even if he doesn’t need comfort, you need his skin on yours to ground you. 

your dad meets his gaze, causing seonghwa to quickly confirm the plans.

“yeah, just dinner,” he says, comforted by your arm touching his. “i borrowed my mom’s car.”

a quiet hum leaves your dad’s mouth and seonghwa feels the nervous pit in his stomach growing, like he’s judging him for being a possible satanist who still borrows his mommy’s car.  

even if he was thinking that, he smiles warmly at the both of you before reminding him to have you home by ten. 

“will do, sir,” he says, already telling himself to have you home by 9:55 so if anything, he’s at least punctual. you all but drag seonghwa out of the house, waving to your dad and thanking the boy quietly when he opens the car door for you. 

he starts the car and there’s a few moments of silence before he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“he hates me.”

you let out a soft giggle as you shake your head, tapping his arm playfully. 

“he doesn’t, he’s just...protective.” 

seonghwa only looks at you, completely unconvinced if the blank stare he’s giving you is any indication. 

“okay, maybe a little,” you agree softly, the boy rolling his eyes away from you despite the smile on his face. 

you watch him drive and admire his sharp features, wondering how and why on earth this boy asked you on a date in the first place. he turns to look at you when the light turns red, his eyebrow quirked up when he sees you’re staring at him. 

“what?”

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head before you shyly say. “i just can’t believe you asked me on a date.”

he bites his lip to hide his smile, taking his hand off the wheel and taking your hand in his. 

“you look pretty,” he says suddenly, causing you to sharply inhale and nearly choke on air. 

you never imagined someone other than a family member or elderly woman at church calling you pretty, completely thrown off and unsure how to respond. the pinkness creeping up on your cheeks is a dead give away that it’s effecting you, his eyes roaming over your face as his smile finally breaks through.

“really pretty.”

and so you don’t completely go mute and dumb, you tease “it’s just because i’m not in a grandma sweater.” 

he only rolls his eyes and taps you on the nose. “i’ve come to really like those grandma sweaters.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth and he can only smirk as he looks back at the road. 

the light turns green and your heart flutters ever so slightly when instead of disconnecting your hands, he brings it to his lips to press a soft, sweet kiss.

your hands don’t disconnect when he pulls up to the restaurant nor when you walk in and wait to be seated. 

you look around at the other couples in the area and that’s when it hits you that you’re one of them. that right now, you’re on your first date and have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. 

“what’re you looking at?” he quietly hums in your ear, watching you look around at the other young couples embraced in a handhold or back hug. 

“nothing,” you say quietly before looking up at him. “i just... i’ve never been on a date before.”

his lips press against your head and you hear him laugh against it, your eyebrows furrowing as you smack his stomach lightly. 

“stop laughing,” you whine.

“but you’re cute,” he hums lowly. 

he hears you let out a sigh and disconnects his lips from your head, taking your cheeks in his hands and ignoring the way your eyes widen at the contact.

“just take a breath for me, okay?” he says lowly, staring down at your wide-eyed gaze and feeling such an overwhelming desire to kiss you. “it’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“but i don’t kn-”

“seonghwa, table for two,” a female voice interrupts. his eyes widen teasingly as a quiet gasp leaves his mouth. “let’s go, baby.”

and, of course, he was right. 

it was fine. 

the second you sat down and looked over the menus, you fell into a natural and teasing conversation that carried on for the rest of the date. everything was always light-hearted and fun, never delving into serious topics or issues. 

he paid the bill after eyeing you the second you pulled out your wallet, a blush crossing your face as you quietly mumble out your gratitude. he took your hand in his, you shyly looking down and watching your fingers intertwine as he leads you through the parking lot.

“where are we going now?” 

you look up at him and see him watching you with a small smirk, probably from the permanent blush on your face, and relishing in the fact that he’s the one that put it there. 

"you’ll see.”

the two of you walk hand-in-hand across the street, tiny squeals leaving your mouth as seonghwa abandons the crosswalk signs and runs straight across. low chuckles leave his mouth as he tightens his hold on your hand, dragging you in front of him and shaking his head.

“you think i’m gonna let you get hit by a car?”

“i just don’t know why you couldn’t wait,” you say, amusement in your voice. “do you have to always prove you’re just such cool rule-breaker?” 

his eyes widen at your uncharacteristic snark, a smirk playing at his lips that only makes your small, smug smile grow wider. 

“rule-breaker, huh?” he hums. “is that what you really think of me? i got a 100 on my play, you know.”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you roll your eyes playfully, your heart soaring because you just know how proud he actually is of that. something about it is so cute, that he now knows he’s capable of succeeding and doing well.

“oh right, i’m sorry,” you tease, looking up at him to admire his smiling face in the setting sun. you don’t know if it’s just because you hadn’t known him well or only saw him in bad situations but you never noticed just how sweet his smile is. 

you see the exact moment something in his eyes change, your gaze following his before you let out at tiny gasp.

to all the places this boy could’ve taken you, like some sort of underground ring or a crazy house party, you’re both standing in front of-

“a playground?” you squeal, trying to contain the childlike excitement building in you. 

“yeah, is that stupid?” he asks, an unsure smile on his face as he looks down to gauge your reaction. he watches your eyes traveling from the swings and slides, feet wiggling beneath you and feels his heart soften even more. 

your neck then snaps up to look at him, a shy smile on your face as you quickly shake your head. 

“not at all,” you say, tightening your hold on his hand. “i just wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“and why’s that?” he asks, dipping his head ever so slightly as his words fan over your ear. “it’s against the rules to go into a playground at sunset.”

your eyes widen when you look up at, a tiny scoff leaving your mouth. but before you can get the words out to chastise him, he pulls you towards the fence that is short and easy enough for you both to climb over.

“are you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa asks, bent down with his hands on your knees, watching you breathe heavily as you sit on the swing.

the two of you had run around the playground like children, racing down the slide and then chasing after each other when one of you lost. 

you squealed as he caught you around the waist, his hands digging into your hips and nearly making your heart explode. he was always quick to loosen his hold and take his hands off of you afterward, demanding a rematch as you watch him run up the steps. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, leaning your head against the cold chain and flooding with relief. “just out of shape.”

a scoff leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you carefully; you don’t look out of shape. 

“i’m fine, seonghwa,” you whine, feeling his gaze still on you. he only narrows his eyes, rubbing your exposed skin before standing up and plopping down on the swing next to you. 

the two of you swing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, admiring the dark sky and singing cicadas. head still on the chain, you turn yourself to look over at him and he must feel your gaze because he does the same, eyes roaming over you because he doesn’t like how lethargic you’ve become.

“thank you for asking me on this date,” your soft voice says suddenly. “i...i had a lot of fun.” 

he watches your cheeks warm with a smile, holding his hand out for you to grab again. 

you take it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing at how small and bony it feels in your hand - have you always been this small?

he pushes down the thoughts because he doesn’t wanna ruin this moment, be distracted from the soft smile on your lips and the pink on your cheeks.

“yeah?” he hums. “i felt some pressure, being that it was your first and all.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth as you shake your head. 

“well it was perfect so good job,” you say, “another 100.”

he snorts at your nerdy comment, turning his face away to hide his smile and look at the rest of the playground. 

he hadn’t come to this playground in years, remembering it so vividly from his childhood. how it seemed so big and scary, like some sort of deathtrap that he could only handle because he had someone next to him.

“i used to come here a lot, you know.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, voice happy and light as you picture a young, exuberant seonghwa. 

“mhm,” he hums, a lump suddenly in his throat as if it’s begging him not to say his next few words. some part of him wants to tell you, break down some unfamiliar, vulnerable side of him in an effort to show he really is trying for you. 

and what better way to do that than woefully spilling about his absent father? 

but then when he finally says, “i used to come here with my dad,” he wishes he hadn’t. it’s embarrassing and kind of humiliating to talk about these types of things with a person you’re starting to-

“that’s sweet,” you tell him softly, smiling over at him warmly. “he sounds like a good dad.”

“he left us a few years after.”

your body stills and veins run cold when those words leave his mouth, your heart tugging in your chest at the sad, short way he says it. 

“oh.”

an awkward chuckle leaves his mouth as your surprised response, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously in fear that he just ruined the vibe between you both. before he can try to backtrack, however the hell one could backtrack something like that, he feels your hand squeeze his. 

“i’m sorry.”

he looks over at your soft, sympathetic gaze and smiles sadly, feeling the overwhelmingly need to cup your cheek and brush over your soft skin.

“not your fault,” he says. 

you move further into his touch, swallowing at the way his eyes roam over your face.

“well, it’s not yours either,” you squeak out, unsure of what exactly to say to comfort him but wanting to so bad. 

because sometime within these months, you’ve discovered what a kind, sensitive person he actually is. how all of his troublesome behaviors and bullshit was just covering up for the fact he was sad and frustrated and maybe a little lonely.

he lets out a scoff, that overwhelming urge to kiss you coming back with a vengeance.

“where were you years ago,” he laughs out, thinking back to his middle school self creeping through the schoolyard and etching his rage onto the brick of the school. 

because for some reason, the boy had convinced himself it was all his fault.

that his dad had gotten tired of his bad grades and snarky backtalk and the fact that he never listened to him. it took him up until a few years ago, when the sadness turned to anger, that he knew his dad left purely due to the fact that he was just an asshole.

you smile sadly watching him stare blankly, knowing his mind is probably going to all sorts of sad places. to a time in his life where he blamed himself and didn't know how to properly cope. 

if you had known, you would've done what you did now. offer him your support and friendship and let him know someone will be there for him.

"i'm here now though," you remind him quietly, moving the swing back and forth, in sync with the way your thumb starts gently brushing over his hand. 

it's like he needed that touch to bring him back to reality, his blank eyes turning to look at you and wonder if you're even real.

the way he's looking at you causes you to nervously fidget, the intense softness of his gaze making your stomach and heart go into frenzy. so much so that you shyly look away, focusing on the way your hand always looks so small in his.

you feel him bring his swing closer to yours, holding himself right beside you and lifting your chin gently. his gaze immediately falls to your lips and you let out a shaky, nervous exhale, your eyes darting across his face because you've definitely read about this before.

the buzzing energy before a kiss, the way someone's eyes lower and tongues dart out to lick at their lips.

"i wanna kiss you," you hear him mumble, his eyes moving to yours and his heart dropping when he sees your wide-eyed gaze. he also sees a hint of curiosity though, a hint of the same desire and need in yours.

you swallow again, your own eyes falling to his lips before back up to him. 

"i... might be bad at it,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

if your statement didn't make his heart hurt in the best way possible, your eyes proved to be the bigger weakness. proved to make a smile spread across his face, a short chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head at you.

"that's not possible," he hums, his gaze boring right into you, like he's waiting for any sort of permission. 

after you let out another shaky exhale and close your eyes, you feel his lips press lightly against yours.

and while it's a careful, slow kiss, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's perfect. 

that it makes your insides warm and flutter and brings an immediate blush to your face. that after a few moments, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and makes you feel like that was the nicest thing to ever happen to you.

you take a few calming breaths before opening your eyes, dropping them shyly when you see him looking right at you.

"see," he mumbles, placing a kiss on your cheek, and then the other, before a finishing one on the tip of your nose. "not possible."

a flustered, girlish giggle leaves your mouth that he can't help but also laugh at, rising from his spot on the swing before standing in front of you with his hand outreached.

"what?"

his lips turned into a frown before he kneels down in front of you again, placing his hands on your bony knees. 

"as much as i don't wanna leave you right now, i gotta get you home."

true to his word, he gets you home five minutes before ten, silently hoping your dad notices and logs in it the back of his mind where his lack of church attendance is also stored.

because even though he sleeps in on sundays and kissed his daughter two more times, he's really hoping he'll be okay when he comes to pick you for date number two next week.

date number two turned into date number six and then over the next few months, you both had started to lose count.

if you weren't together at your house, doing homework and midterm projects in the living room, you were at the cemetery or playground. 

leaned back against his chest on a blanket, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hums quietly against your head. his hands grazing the small of your back as he pushes you on the swing and watches you tip your head back in the air.

tonight's date, however, was a surprise. 

he had told you on monday to clear your schedule for saturday, silencing you with a peck of the lips any time you pressed him further. your constant questioning served to be of no use because even in the car on your way to the surprise, he wouldn't budge.

if anything, he made it worse by then whipping out a blindfold and securing it around your face at a red light.

"do you trust me?" he had asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you only let out a sigh, lips turning into a pout because "of course i do." 

that right there sealed your fate for being completely blind for the next twenty minutes.

you feel the the car suddenly stop, the scent of salt hitting your nose through the open window and making your eyebrows furrow together; you had never smelt anything like this before.

"i'm gonna get out and open your door, okay?" he tells you, the sound of his door shutting quickly followed by yours opening. 

you reach out your hand for him to grab, a foreign softness under your sneakers when you step out. he guides you for a few minutes with your blindfold still on, letting out huffs and grumbles every now and then that were silenced by his laughter.

and then when you hear what sounds like crashing water and the loud chirp of a seagulls, you hear his voice from behind you tell you take it off. 

a gasp leaves your mouth that lights up his entire face.

"number three, see the-"

"ocean!" you squeal, turning around to throw your arms around him gratefully. his laugh is muffled against your head, lips pressing a kiss on top on your hair.

"thank you, seonghwa," you say, tightening your arms around him as you press your chin into chest, looking up at him with a bright, excited smile. he can only find it in himself to smile back, take your face in his hands and place another full kiss on your lips.

luckily, your kissing has gotten a lot better with practice. 

pressing up on the tips of your toes to deepen it, your mouths gliding and parting as a breeze from the ocean hits both of you. when you pull apart, his eyebrow raises mischievously, both at your new found boldness and the prospect of exploring the ocean, so he takes your hand in his.

"you're welcome, baby. now let's go."

he pulls you toward the water as your giggles ring through the salty air, squealing when you feel the freezing water on your bare feet and jumping in seonghwa's arms when a big wave splashes up and hits your leg.

he completely uses that to his advantage, tightening his hold on you and running further out into the ocean. he doesn't care that his pants get soaked and his feet go numb, because your loud laugh and squeals of his name have come to be his favorite sound.

you eventually jump down and deal with the consequences that are freezing bones and a wet dress, running away and splashing through the ocean before he catches you by the waist and twirls you around.

but then he notices that concerning, lethargic wave hit you when you grab onto his arm, something he’s been noticing more and more of these past few weeks together. 

he quickly ushers you out of the ocean, guiding you onto the towel that he laid out as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern. "are you okay?"

you insist the you're fine. that the waves of the ocean were rough and that you're not used to it. 

you push him down when he asks again if you're okay, allowing your head to rest on his chest and watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets below the horizon.

"i can't believe you took me to the see the ocean," you mumble against his chest, still in disbelief that this is the same seonghwa you've known your whole life. 

the same seonghwa who constantly wore a pissed off expression, punched anyone who looked at him funny and yelled at you during tutoring.

"i like to see you happy," he says, his words genuine, without a single hesitation which makes you burrow your head and smile into his wet shirt. "which is why i have another plan for us."

you perk up at this words, lifting your body and sitting cross-legged beside him. "another surprise?" you squeak excitedly, reminding him of a child on christmas day.

"yup, another surprise for my girl," he says teasingly, sitting up to peck your cheek. "and if you say yes, you'll be my tattooed girl."

he has to keep his poker face on but it proves to be a challenge with the way your face drops, eyes wide and skin paling as you stare at him blankly. "wh-what?"

"yeah, i figured we'd just cover number four too," he says sweetly, faking it just a little bit to sell his point. "so i looked up tattoo shops around here and-"

"what?!" you squeal out again, feeling panic start to creep in your veins. "seonghwa! i-i can't actually-"

"but why not, baby?" he asks, the smirk tugging at his lips uncontrollable. "it's on the bucket list."

"okay, yeah, but you don't have to do everything on it."

his eyes narrow at you, tapping you on the nose that you naturally scrunch. 

"i think you do when there's only four things on it." 

your eyes remain wide and panic-stricken, staring at him mouth agape like he's grown five heads.

"seonghwa," you manage to get out, "you have to be- you're joking, right? you have to be joking. i can't go home to my dad with a freakin'-"

your words halt when you watch him throw his head back in laughter, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. 

"of course i'm joking, baby. do you really think i'd bring you home with a freakin' tattoo?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you push him over, slapping his chest playfully and yelling at him for being so mean and scaring you. he's quick to push you onto your back, holding himself above you and peppering kisses over your face and cheeks as an apology.

"that's why i got these," he says after he pulls back, fishing in the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out five white cards. your eyebrows pull together in confusion, lifting yourself up and gasping when you see an array of temporary tattoos.

"these are perfect!" you squeal, taking them in your hand and examining each of them as if they're not gonna fall off by the time you get home; after careful consideration, you pick out a purple butterfly.

"i want this one. you pick now," you tell him with a smile, laughing when he goes with the identical butterfly in pink. the both of you run to the ocean, securing your tattoos in matching spots with cold salt water.

"this is so nice, imagine i really got one," you say, twisting your wrist as you hold your arm out in front of you. you look over to see him watching you softly, feeling a blush creep up on your face.

"what?" you say, shy embarrassment suddenly in your tone.

"nothing," he says causing you to shrug and look back at your tattoo.

his brain screams at him that he has to tell you, that this night can't end without him telling you and that it’s most definitely not nothing.

ten minutes later, with your head resting against his chest watching the steady ocean waves gain, he quietly says your name. 

you hum questioningly against his chest, feeling your eyes grow heavy at the tranquility of... everything. of his presence and the ocean and the way your life just seems so-

"i love you."

and just like that, all the tranquility is gone.

you rip your head away from his chest, eyes darting to his to see such raw vulnerability and love shining in his eyes. you can't control the way your own widen, the way your heart and stomach twist and turn into knots and make you feel even more nauseous than usual.

because he can't love you. he can't. 

something could happen at anytime and take you away from him and then what's gonna happen? you can't be responsible for hurting him and making him feel sad, even if you're-

"now would be a good time to say something," he says lowly, feeling his heart sink at the evident panic on your face.

but then he starts to panic when he sees your eyes fill with tears, backing away from him slightly as you shake your head at him.

“y/n?” he asks, holding his hands out as he walks closer to you, proving he’s not a threat to you.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly. because he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart. but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem."

"i.. i told you not to fall in love with me."

his heart sinks at the flashback, watching tears stream down your face and not being able to help the way he reaches out and takes you in his arms. he thinks you're probably just scared and vulnerable, not used to the feeling of loving someone and giving another person your entire self.

but neither is he.

and that's why, with his lips against your head, he tells you not to be scared.

 that he'll wait until you're ready to say it back and that you'll learn to do this together. 

he thinks it must calm you down a little because your arms wrap around his waist and you burrow your face in his damp shirt, muffling your cries and sobs against his shirt.

but your cries and sobs only continue later the night, putting on a strong front for the car ride home. 

seonghwa kept his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and occasionally bringing them up to his mouth to kiss; every time he did it, you looked over and smiled at him and tried to show through your eyes how much you loved him back.

but then the second you got home and your dad saw your face, he knew.

"did he tell you?" he asked gently, his heart breaking at the sight of your red cheeks and teary eyes. 

he watched park seonghwa fall in love with his daughter before his very eyes, the more evident it came the more awful he felt in his gut about it.

you can't even talk without sounding broken so you only nod your head, nearly collapsing onto the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

"you knew this was gonna happen," your dad says, not wanting to say i told you so but knowing from the start how reckless and tragic this was gonna be. "you have to tell him. be fair to him, y/n."

but nothing's fair. 

nothing about any of this is fair and you should've known life was getting too good. that you should've been expecting what tragic events were about to come.

“let’s take our bets now,” san says from his table at lunch. “is he gonna sit with her today?”

“when was the last time he sat with us?” yeosang grumbles, looking around the boy’s faces that hold a mix of anger and hurt. “he’s definitely not.”

they hadn’t seen much of seonghwa at all, really. 

missing him by the time they all gathered in front of the school after the final bell or going to his house on the weekends just for his mom to inform them he’s already out. 

and while most of them didn’t care, the older boy with hard eyes and a ticking jaw has been taking the ‘betrayal’ the worst.

“who knew he’d become such a little bitch,” hongjoong snarls. “and for her, nonetheless.”

mingi and yunho share a look, the two of them kind of caught in the middle; they’re best friends with hongjoong, have been by his side since elementary school and don’t intend on breaking that alliance. 

but they’re also close with seonghwa and see how different he is now. 

how much happier he seems because you’re in his life. they had even met you briefly after school and while you were a bit shy, there was something genuine and warm about your smile that they instantly liked. 

“she’s good for him, i think,” yunho dares to say, hongjoong’s narrowed eyes snapping to him. 

“how could she be?” the boy snarls, embarrassed that anyone he associated with could be connected to the snobby, holier than tho type like you. “i bet she doesn’t even put out.”

“i bet it’s not about that,” mingi says quietly, stiffening ever so slightly when he notices both of you come through the door. 

and like seonghwa always does, he sends them a nod of his head before sitting down across from you. your bumping arms and loving smiles make it obvious to everyone what’s going on between you two. 

hongjoong can only watch for so long seonghwa be a ‘lovesick bitch’ towards you. rolling his eyes when he watches him fawn over you, getting your food and drinks and not allowing you to lift a finger. 

(he doesn’t know it’s because seonghwa’s getting more and more concerned about how fatigued you’re growing throughout the day, something in his gut telling him it’s way more than you forgetting to drink water or not getting enough sleep as your excuses say). 

when he watches his friend tuck your hand behind your ear lovingly, a move they both would’ve laughed at before seonghwa lost his balls, he decides it’s time to get his friend back.

“what’re you doing?” he hears his friends ask from behind him but he only waves them off, stomping towards the table and rolling his eyes when you meet his gaze first. 

“seonghwa,” hongjoong says, annoyance already in his tone. the boy looks up and he stiffens, immediately recognizing the look in his friend’s eye.

“hey,” he says, voice tight and cautious. 

do not fuck with her.

“are you done with this shit or what?” 

the anger bite in the boy’s words has your head dropping immediately, eyes focusing on your lap as you try to properly prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

that’s exactly what happens the second seonghwa asks “what are you talking about?” because it’s like hongjoong goes off the rail, scoffing as he looks at his friend. 

“you’re kidding, right? you haven’t sat with us in months. we haven’t even hung out.”

“i’ve been busy...” seonghwa says but it sounds more like a question, completely thrown off by his friends odd behavior - what is even getting so mad about?

“with what? your girlfriend?” the last word twinged with disgust.

seonghwa’s eyes travel to you and the second he sees how uncomfortable you are, he stands up and towers over hongjoong.

“we can talk about this later.”

“no, i think we should talk about it now,” hongjoong says condescendingly, everything about his tone and stance making seonghwa’s fists clench. because he can tell it’s making you more and more uneasy. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” seonghwa asks lowly, pushing his friend back. 

“my fucking problem is you dropped all of us the second this bitch came along.”

the first time you brokenly get out “stop,” is when seonghwa’s immediate reaction is to grab hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, the low mumble of student’s voices when they see the first inkling of a fight. 

“don’t call her that.”

a sadistic smirk crosses hongjoong’s face as he stares into seonghwa’s dark, blazing eyes, seeing just how quickly he’s about to lose his control. the boy’s eyes then flicker to you, looking at them fearfully.

“let me tell you, y/n. your pussy must be something, i-”

seonghwa lands a punch on the boy’s face before hongjoong’s back is slammed against the wall, a hand around his throat as his eyes blaze down at him. 

"you better shut the fuck up.”

“why?” hongjoong laughs out despite the crushing weight on his windpipe. “you mean we’re not gonna share? i think we’re all very curi-

you hear yourself begging seonghwa to stop when he drops hongjoong to the ground, giving him a few forceful kicks in the stomach before the rest of the boys jump up. 

they grab the back of seonghwa’s shirt as you join them, trying to block out the way hongjoong and him are screaming and cursing back and forth despite the pounding in your head.

whether it be from the chaos of fighting or you’re already weakened, fatigued state, your vision blurs and your brain feels foggy before you whisper out seonghwa’s name. 

you feel an unfamiliar pair of strong arms around you before passing out and your world turns black. 

yunho carries you out to his car, mingi attempting to calm down seonghwa who hasn’t stopped calling your name frantically, cursing hongjoong and saying how this is all his fault. 

the two boys are quick to ground him, tell him that that’s not what’s important right now and instead deciding where to bring you. 

seonghwa rakes his fingers through your hair, your head lolled in his lap and he feels sick looking at how pale and sunken your face looks. 

“baby, what happened to you,” he mumbles out, his long finger coming out to trail over your cheek.

the second yunho pulls up to your house, seonghwa picks you up bridal style and rushes to your front door. your dad catches the sight through the window and nearly collapses in fear. 

“what the hell happened?” the older man asks frantically, terrified and haunted by how you look lifeless in the boy’s arms. 

“she passed out at school,” seonghwa grunts out, mingi and yunho awkwardly standing in the doorway watching him barrel through your house and rest you on the couch. 

he kneels down and runs his fingers through your hair again, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. 

“i-i don’t know happened. she said she was feeling tired but-”

“you have to go.”

his head snaps up at your dad’s words, the man watching him with hard eyes and a pale face. seonghwa can only squint his eyes at him, shaking his head as you takes your hand in his.

“with all due respect, sir, there’s no way i’m-”

“you are,” he says, his voice hard and firm and such a contrast to the peaceful way he speaks in church. “you shouldn’t even be with her.”

the statement takes seonghwa back, his eyebrow raising as he squeezes your hand before standing up. 

“what?” the boy asks, making his way over to your dad. “why?”

“seonghwa, maybe we should just-”

“no,” seonghwa growls, his head snapping to the doorway before back at the older man. “why shouldn’t i be with her?”

the pain and worry in seonghwa’s eyes is overwhelmingly obvious, the love and care he has for you completely genuine and real, but right now that’s not your dad’s concern. 

if you were a normal, healthy teenager, he knows the boy in front of him would be perfect. 

but you’re not normal or heathy and adding another person into this mix of hurt and worry and pain is something he just can’t do, even with the fact in mind that you love him and he loves you. 

he knows it’s not his call to make and he’s being incredibly selfish but he does what he thinks is best at the time.

“because she’s too good for you. she deserves more and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise.”

the room, the house, the entire world seems dead silent after those words leave his mouth, seonghwa not only taken back and pained by the fact he said it but because it rings slightly true. 

he’s known since this started that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. he’s been trying to prove himself worthy by treating you well, listening to all your dad’s rules and just being patient and loving you.

“i...even though that’s true-” seonghwa begins to say but the older man takes a step closer to him, his face full of anger and frustration as he tells him once more to leave. 

that’s when mingi comes in and grabs seonghwa by the arm, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold as his eyes move back to your unconscious body.

“mingi, fucking stop,” he screams, fighting against his friend’s hold and feeling himself grow more and more anxious the further he gets from your house. 

the hold on him doesn’t loosen until he’s put into the car, the two boys jumping in front and turning to see him bouncing his knee nervously. 

“how am i not supposed to be there,” seonghwa says as he looks at your house. “she’s gonna wake up and i’m not gonna be-”

“she’ll be fine,” yunho says gently, mingi nodding in agreement before adding on that your dad is there and everything will be fine. that you just need to rest and that you can talk tomorrow.

when seonghwa visits your house, both, saturday and sunday morning, your dad turns him away. 

tells him you’re too sick and can’t be around people right now. even when he pleas for just five minutes, just to talk to you and see with his own eyes that you’re okay, he still says no. 

it’s not until the man slams the door in seonghwa’s face that he lets his hard exterior down, his body deflating and eyes stinging because he hates that he has to do this. hates watching you sit on the couch not meeting his gaze.

“y/n, i’m doing this for-”

“don’t say it,” you snap. “i’m going to school tomorrow and i’m telling him.”

your dad lets out a sigh, sitting down next to you on the couch and running his hands over his face. “the doctor said...”

“one day isn’t gonna kill me,” you say, “i’m already dying.” 

your dad’s face falld before he quietly mumbles out his approval and goes into the kitchen, both of you crying separately, pretending like the both of you aren’t doing so, and wondering why this had to happen.

the tears just follow into monday, holding them back all day when seonghwa catches you before first period and takes you in his arms. 

“you scared me so much,” he mumbled against your head, his tight hold on you nearly crushing you but you don’t care; you both need this and you’ll only need it more later. 

later being when the library cleared out after tutoring. 

seonghwa noticed you purposely lingering by wiping down the tables and slowly putting your things away. he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean against the wall and admire you moving slowly around the room.

the room where you guys got to know each other. 

where you went from strangers to friends and watched each other grow. 

where he remembers being so defensive and wary of you because he couldn’t believe someone like you actually existed. 

you feel his eyes on you and smile at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“what?” 

but he only shakes his head, holding his arms out in front of him and causing you to roll your eyes; who would’ve guessed that the man with every full intention of ignoring you would grow to be the clingiest boyfriend known to man?

not that you’re complaining. 

you’re quick to make your way over and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his chest and his hold on you tight and warm.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, not being able to shake the feeling that something’s wrong with you. 

your stomach plummets when you realize the conversation is about to happen, that nothing is stopping it and now you’re here finally about to tell him.

“i’m okay,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. his smile quickly falls, however, when you add on. “but there is something i need to tell you.”

his eyebrows furrow at the seriousness in your tone, taking one look in your already glossy eyes and seeing something is seriously wrong. as nervousness floods through him, he takes you by the hand and leads you over so you both can sit down.

“what?” 

his panic starts to increase more and more as the silence between you stretches, your tongue licking at your dry, chapped lips and your pale skin nearly translucent. 

every time you try to get the words out, he sees you close your mouth and eyes well with tears.

“you’re freaking me out, baby,” he says, squeezing your hand before taking the other. “please, just tell me.”

“i’m...i’m sick,” you eventually get out, swallowing the lump in your throat because you know that’s not good enough. you know that when his eyes narrow and he says he knows, that your dad told him yesterday, you just have to say it.

your first set of tears and sobs finally come, your face falling into your hands as you shake your head over and over. he thinks that scares him more than anything, watching how fast you break down and sob out apologies, barely able to acknowledge his arms around you.

“y/n, what? what is happening? please tell me.” 

you pull back and wipe the wetness off your face, lip trembling and voice shaky when you’re finally able to gather the strength. 

“i have leukemia.”

the words don’t sink in at first, his heart reacting but brain convincing him that, no, that’s not what you could’ve said. there’s no way you could have cancer. 

“no,” he says, shaking his head as a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. “you’re- you’re perfect, you can’t-”

“i was diagnosed two years and i’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

you watch through tears and a breaking heart as his head falls into his hands now, breathing in and out like he’s trying to prevent himself from having a complete panic attack. 

there’s no way you could have cancer. there’s no way you could have cancer and be dying when you’re a perfect high school student. there’s no way you would’ve kept something like this from him.

“and you... you’re just deciding to tell me this?” he asks, his head snapping up so you can finally see the tears in his eyes. “why the fu...why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want you to feel weird or be different around me,” you whisper out quietly, “i was just gonna try to go on with my life and be normal and then just... die quietly or-”

he shoots up from his seat, the clattering of the chair falling back causing you to jump. you watch him pace around the room like he’s unhinged, his hands pulling at his hair as he shakes his head.

“die quietly,” he snarls out, his jaw ticking and tight and he wants so badly to punch something. “die quietly. what the fuck does that even mean?” 

you can only cry quietly watching him pace and digest the news, your head hanging low as the salty tears seep onto your lips. he’s walks over to you and kneels down, his hands on your knees as he looks up at you with teary eyes. 

“please tell me this a joke,” he says, his voice wavering and wet and broken. “please tell me you’re not...”

you can’t tell him that, so you don’t say a word. 

and it’s like that’s all the confirmation he needs to know his girlfriend, the first person he’s learned to love and the first person to ever see something in him, is dying.

he completely falls apart in your lap after that, cries wracking his body as your hands run through his hair. it’s the first time in two years you’ve ever felt scared to die. 

your condition worsens over the next few days, landing you in the hospital and seonghwa in a depression. he doesn’t leave his couch or eat for three days, his mom softly cooing and begging to tell her what happened. 

but it’s like he’s lifeless, his eyes void of anything but sadness, and it’s a sight that his mom can’t stand to look at any longer. 

she had noticed the change in her son immediately, used to his usual teen angst but quickly realizing this was so much more than that. 

she called out of work and sat down next to him, not saying a word but just stroking his hair the way she did when he was a child. 

she didn’t press him about anything, didn’t ask if something had happened with the lovely girl he had brought home weeks ago or if he wanted to talk about anything.

after an hour of just sitting with him in silence, he finally had the strength to say it aloud.

“my girlfriend... she has leukemia and she’s dying, mom,” he said, so straight-forward and matter of facty, like he’s not able to grasp that he’s talking about you. 

the woman feels her heart break for a moment, her eyes swarming with tears as she wraps him in a hug. 

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do,” he says once he’s able to speak again. “i... what am i gonna do without her? i love her.”

“i know you do,” she says gently, her heart truly aching for the both of you right now. “but she’s still here, seonghwa.”

the boy can only look at his mom watching him with her soft gaze, knowing his own face is a red, tear-stained mess. 

“what?” is all he manages to cough out.

“you should be with her right now, while you still can,” she says, not wanting to upset her son further but knowing he needs to hear this. “enjoy the time you have and make what she has left worth it. you both need that, don’t you?”

that was just the kick he needed to get off his couch and charge over to the hospital. barreling into your room and feeling tears come to his eyes again at the sight of you in a hospital bed. 

“seonghwa,” you weakly say, your lips quirking up when you see the boy standing in the doorway. your heart lifts when he smiles back at you, cautiously making his way over to you and whispering out an apology. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble out, leaning into his touch when he places his hand on your cheek.

“it’s not baby. i was an asshole.”

the last thing he expects to hear you do is giggle, sunken eyes shining as you look at his confused expression. 

“what could you possible be laughing about right now?”

“just that it takes me dying for you to admit that you’re an asshole.” 

and perhaps it’s too soon for you to be making jokes like that because his face falls as he backs away from you.

“that was a joke,” you say quietly, pouting in hopes that it’ll get him to lighten up. his lips only form into a thin line, teary gaze shooting around the bare hospital room before back at you.

“it’s not funny.”

you hold your arms out to him, uttering a tiny “come here.” he falls into them immediately, his head burying in your neck and you feel tiny, tears hit your skin ever so often.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling your own sorrow hit you. 

you’re not only sorry for your comment but sorry that you waited so long to tell him. sorry that you’re now putting him through this and that he’s gonna have to watch you grow weaker and weaker.

“please don’t,” he mumbles against your head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

he knows by the look you give him that you think it’s a complete and utter lie but you really don’t have anything to be sorry for. he understands why you didn’t tell him and why you wanted to remain going on like a normal person.

because if you did tell him, he would’ve never dragged you all around the state on date nights and weekend getaways. he would’ve been far too concerned and nervous, fawning over you and choosing instead to do the same old thing you always did.

so you guys just agree to disagree, his lips crashing down on yours and you smiling against them before a very flustered nurse comes in and apologies for interrupting. 

given how much seonghwa never leaves your side, how from the second he gets out of school until he leaves (at his bribed time of 11:00 pm), you end up apologizing to every member of the staff. 

on the days you have the energy, you’ll walk hand-in-hand through the garden and slow dance with the elderly couple you’ve met; you guys had seen them dancing and they noticed your looks, smiling softly before all but forcing you to join them.

on the days that you have more often than not, when you feel tired and drained, he sits at your bedside or even crawls in next to you. 

your dad had walked in one night to see you both asleep on the tiny bed, seonghwa’s arms around you protectively with your head on his chest, and forgets that he never properly apologized to the boy.

“this is why i did it,” the man says to him the next day. 

they had left to get you soup you’d been craving, pushing seonghwa by his back and sending him a thumbs up despite the terrified expression on his face. 

“what?” 

the man looks at seonghwa as his eyes gloss over. 

“i didn’t wanna involve someone else in this heartbreak. i was... i was trying to spare you.” 

and while the boy can empathize with his reasoning, even feels slightly grateful for it, he finds himself shaking his head. 

“i love her.”

“i know,” the man says, putting his arm around seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. how could he not when he sees the way you both look at each other? “she loves you too.”

“i know,” seonghwa says, smiling happily before taking a deep breath. “and that’s why i wanted to ask you something.”

and so it was a random wednesday night, summer break now in session and successfully keeping seonghwa at the hospital all day and night, when you completed your bucket list. 

when you whined at him to kiss you and his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something of the sort. 

“on one condition,” he says teasingly, his eyebrows shooting up playfully as your lips are just a few inches apart, so close to giving you what you so desperately want. 

“what?” you whine, your lips turning into a pout.

“marry me.”

the wedding was held at the church your dad preached out, a small group of your friends and family gathered for the celebration. it had been the happiest day of your lives, not a hint of a sadness or heartbreak despite the circumstances.

you ate and danced and sang like you were any other young bride, dragging seonghwa out on the dance floor who’s hold on you never loosened. 

he stepped on your feet and you got the cake in his nose but it didn’t even matter. you were able to get married and fall in love with park seonghwa and he was responsible for some of the best days of your life. 

seven months later, seonghwa finds himself walking through that same cemetery he (admittedly) followed you into. 

it was the place where he first realized there was something about you he was gonna fall in love with. where he saw just how much you were gonna effect and change his life. 

he had not only finally learned how to love but how to grieve. 

learned that he didn’t have to be destructive or hide behind his fake persona. that he had people in his life who cared about him and would be there to listen to him.

it’s how he’s coping day by day, knowing that the pain in his heart will never go away but that he’ll learn to live with it. that memories and reminders aren’t supposed to make you sad but serve as a way to carry on someone’s life.

with the blanket he has under his arm, he lays it out and places it in front of the grave. he drops down the flowers he’s brought every month since that devastating day and just begins to talk. 

“why do you come here then?” 

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. because while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, its also something that some get uncomfortable by or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. but before he can misconstrue your gaze on him, you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll read."

he talks about his upcoming semester of school and how excited he is about it.

“i wish you’d be able to see me,” he says quietly, the lump forming in his throat making it difficult to breathe. 

he stands up to run his hand along the cold stone, his long fingers trailing over it before he moves back and looks over the engraving; a few moments later, he feels arms around his waist and smiles softly at the feeling. 

“you okay?” the soft voice asks him quietly. 

“yeah,” he says lowly, feeling the presence behind him move. “just telling her about school.” 

a quiet, soft hum rings through the air. 

“she’d be proud of you, you know.”

his eyes look over the grave once more before turning around, his eyes and smile softening. “i know.” he stands there silently, looking down at the headstone before picking up his blankets and saying his final goodbyes.

“see you soon, mom.” 

he turns around and meets your teary gaze, taking you in his arms and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“no crying, pretty girl.”

the doctors had called your remission nothing short of a miracle, transporting you to a different hospital where new treatments were being held. 

you all had been convinced that it was gonna be a waste, almost denying the treatment all together and letting the spot go to someone who’s family hadn’t come to terms with their loved ones death.

but then seonghwa’s mom came in and softly encouraged you to take it, her hand holding tightly onto yours like she knew you guys were gonna need each other come the time.

“you say that every time,” you sniffle, pouting as he wipes at the tears on your face. 

“because you cry every time.”

your soft giggle rings through the cemetery, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the squeaky gate that always reminds you of the night you shared your bucket list. 

(the bucket list that now has way more than four things on it). 

#did i say au #i mean the literal entire plot #nicholas sparks if you're in the ateez tag #ily #and i cant believe you killed her #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff

[forhereyesonlyyy]

for you. // itzy, syn. // one-shot.

in which your childhood best friend tries to distract you from the fact that you’re totally flunking all of your classes by taking you to the places you considered were special to you when you were younger, and you remember why they were so close to your heart in the first place.

word count: 4.8k

author’s note: writing this was really fun, i hope you all enjoy 💓 i apologize for the inconsistency of my updates, i don’t have a scheduler, i literally just drop these out of nowhere and call it a day,,, as for the requests, i will get them done eventually! i am sorry for the long wait, i swear i am just,,, lacking inspiration lately lmao.

genre: high school au, fluff all the way baby, friends to lovers (although, the ‘lovers’ part isn’t specifically stated anywhere.)

tw: mild violence, brief mention of blood.

“(Y/N), I believe you have a clue as to why you're here when classes have concluded?" The guidance counselor, Ms. Jung, said as her assuming eyes traveled from a piece of paper to your eyes. You sat quietly across from the older woman, anxiously bouncing your leg and scratching the cushion you were sitting on. Being called to the guidance counselor's office was something that hasn't happened to you before and not knowing the reason why you're there makes everything just a tad bit more scarier.

On a normal day, you would be walking home with your best friend at this time of day. And speaking of your best friend, you dreaded seeing the look on her face when you meet her by the school gate so late. You had promised to treat her to some ice cream after getting the results for the important test you both took today.

Oh, yeah, that's why I'm here, you thought. You couldn't help but sigh deeply at the realization of it all. You completely butchered the test, and now you were getting the talk from the counselor.

"Your teachers always talk about how you're a well-mannered student who is loved by everyone since the day you entered this school. However," Ms. Jung pushes the piece of paper towards you. You leaned forward to look at the paper and feel your head spin at the sight of so many... failed tests. "You don't make an effort to try at all." The counselor said.

You leaned back on your chair and stared at the bulletin board behind the counselor's desk in an attempt to avoid the older woman's gaze. You could not tell her that you have been trying to get your grades up ever since the first time you got a C+ on a test because you realized that you would just sound dumber than you already look.

You felt your heart swell at your wasted efforts and oh, you just wanted to go home and shut yourself off from the world for a little bit to clear your head, but you know that it wouldn't do anything to your grades. Now you were regretting rejecting an older student's offer to tutor you.

I really shouldn't have brushed off that opportunity. There's no way Jisu can make time for me now. She's a graduating student, I know she must be busy with more important things, you thought. You dread for the time when you have to go home and show your parents your current grade. They never really showed mercy at these kind of things.

You left the guidance counselor's office with a heavy heart. What would your best friend think of you now? The two of you were competing to beat the other into getting the higher grade this school year, there's no doubt that she'll make fun of you because of this.

You can already see her big, toothy grin in your head and if you weren't so devastated, you would've laughed because your best friend's face really puts you at ease. But for some reason, it was doing the opposite at the moment.

You walked past the doors of the building and from the top of the five steps that lead to the door, you could see your best friend's tall figure standing near the school gates.

Shin Yuna, looking cute as ever, had a pout on her face as she leaned against the gates. Her long, lustrous blonde hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail and she wore a big grey jacket on top of her school uniform. It was your jacket. Her tan legs stretched out from under her plaid skirt and you still can't wrap your head around the fact that she was nearly two heads taller than you and the two of you are the same age!

As you walked closer to the gates, you watched as Yuna kicked a pebble solemnly. She hated waiting. It makes her anxious, especially if you don't say anything beforehand. But then again, it's not like you were expecting to get pulled into the guidance couselor's office at the end of the school day.

Yuna turns her head and almost immediately, her frown was replaced with a big smile, "There you are!" She says.

You try to mirror her smile, "Sorry. I got held up by Ms. Jung." You replied, letting your eyes wander to the bright pink hair tie that held Yuna's golden locks together.

"The guidance couselor? What for?" Yuna asked. You flinch at her question, you were hoping that she would whine about you being late and totally ignore how miserable you looked at the moment. You avoid your best friend’s gaze for a minute, staring blankly at the tall trees across the street. You let out a heavy sigh and flashed Yuna a lazy smile, followed by a shrug.

For most people, you were a mystery. Mainly because you never really talk to anyone except for a select few. But for Yuna, you were like an open book. You have been friends since elementary school, so of course you know everything there is to know about each other.

And when you’re being stubborn about hiding what you’re feeling, Yuna makes it her mission to bring it out of you.

Surprisingly enough, however, Yuna doesn’t say anything this time. As weird as it is, you appreciated it. You weren’t in the mood to talk about it anyway.

“Well, whatever then. You didn’t forget your promise, right?” Yuna asked, grinning as she looped her arm around yours. She started dragging you away from the school gates and the two of you were finally out into the streets. You feel the early evening breeze kissing your face as you treaded the pavement. Your tense shoulders finally relaxed as you felt Yuna resting her head on top of it.

You turn your head slightly, “Of course not. And even if I did, you’d make me remember.” You said. Yuna giggles, she knows you’re right. As the two of you walked towards the small ice cream parlor down the street, you realized that you were still holding the piece of paper that had your grades on it. No doubt that Yuna hasn’t seen it, but you still slipped it inside your school blazer. You could see your best friend staring at you from the corner of your eye but you ignore it, staring into the distance.

“Hey,” Yuna tugs on your sleeve, successfully getting your attention. “Are you cold? You can have your jacket back if you like.”

You shake your head, “I’m okay, Yu.” You replied weakly. You were close to the end of the street and across from the little stoplight there was Yuna’s favorite ice cream parlor, but all of a sudden, you felt yourself getting pulled back.

“We’re going somewhere else,” Yuna said. You can tell that she was starting to get bothered by your recent behavior. “I’m not really craving ice cream right now.”

You allow yourself to get dragged around the streets and you realized that your best friend was taking you to the underpopulated part of the town. This section of the city belonged to those who weren't doing very well in terms of money and therefore the quality of the houses, and pretty much everything else, were less than ideal.

Your family used to live here and while your childhood wasn't always pleasant, you still found ways to enjoy every moment of it. Mostly because there was this unnecessarily tall kid that never failed to make your day better just by being herself.

"Yu, why'd you take me here?" You asked as you looked around. It was quiet, but that doesn't mean that it was safe. The scariest things happen in this part of the city, you were lucky that you didn't experience any of them when you were younger. "Oh my God, did you get yourself involved with shady people now? I told you to stop hanging out with Ryujin! Like, I get that she's hot but she's bad news!"

Yuna sputters. "What?! No! Wait," She stops walking and looks at you like you grew three heads. "You think Ryujin is hot?" She asked.

You tilt your head to the side, "You don't?" You didn't get an answer. Instead, Yuna keeps walking forward, muttering something about how she didn't even know what she was trying to do at the moment. You jog up to her side and catch her hand with yours, locking your fingers together.

It's not that you hated this part of the city. The only things you really remember were the worst things. Like that time your puppy passed away, or those numerous times your parents fought, or that time when you didn't catch the string of your balloon fast enough to stop it from flying away to the sun.

The first stop was an old park that was squeezed the numerous run-down apartments in the neighborhood. The fountain at the center of the park had stopped working and vines covered most of it.

"I think... this was where I saw you cry for the first time," Yuna speaks. She staring at the fountain blankly. It was like she was reliving that exact moment on the spot. You don't remember that though. You cried a lot, and you don't exactly keep count. "You were upset because some dumb boy from our old elementary school called you names."

You chuckled lightly, "Oh, that. Didn't you get in trouble for punching him the next day?" You asked.

"It was worth it." Yuna replied with a cheeky grin.

Yuna came to your house late in the afternoon that day. There was a cut on her lip and she bled quite a lot. She tried to look tough but you didn't miss the single tear that squeezed out of her eye when your father patched up her lip. That day, you wondered why Yuna would go through such lengths for you, but that was before you realized that you would also punch a boy twice your size just for her.

“Didn’t we make this our unofficial hangout spot?” You asked as you stood on the fountain. Now you were able to see the top of Yuna’s head, for once. You remember a time where you could still look at each other eye-to-eye, but then she suddenly grew. And then she grew again. Maybe she will never stop growing!

“Yeah, but only because whenever you do that,” Yuna said and pointed at you with a smirk on her face. She suddenly put her hand on your arm and pushed you gently. You let out a yelp as you try to maintain your balance, but you failed and you feel yourself falling forward. You closed your eyes, ready to embrace the pain, only for it to never come. You slowly opened your eyes and of course, Yuna caught you in her arms. “I can do this.” She whispered with that mischievous glint in her eye.

You pushed Yuna away and hopped off of the fountain, “You suck. What if you hadn’t caught me in time?”

“That’s impossible. I’ll always catch you when you fall.” Yuna replied almost immediately, as if she predicted your previous statement. You adjusted your school blazer, making sure that not one spot was dirty, ripped, or folded. And then you reached inside, searching for a certain piece of paper. Your heart nearly dropped down to your stomach when you couldn’t feel the familiar material in one of the pockets.

You looked back at the fountain and of course it was right there for the whole world to see. You quickly snatched it, hoping to the gods that your best friend didn’t see it.

Your wishes ended up being ignored, however. “What’s that?” Yuna asked.

There was basically no point in hiding it. Even if Yuna doesn’t feel like asking you about your feelings now, there will always be that small voice in her mind that will keep reminding her that you were upset about something in this particular day, then she’ll bring it up and you will have no choice but to answer.

You slowly turn around, only to see your best friend eyeing the piece of paper that was trapped between your fingers. “This little thing? Uh, i-it’s nothing. Just... trash, haha.”

Yuna stares at you with an incredulous look on her face, and you sigh, finally giving in. You unfold the piece of paper and handed it to Yuna, your eyes glued to the ground to avoid any more humiliation.

You could see your best friend come closer to look at the paper and a second later, you hear her laughing. Your head snapped up at the sound of her beautiful laugh but you didn’t feel like laughing with her. Instead, you felt frustration building up inside you and you toss the paper towards Yuna, hitting her in the face.

You started walking away. “No! Wait! (Y/N), let’s talk!” You hear yell from behind. You ignore her calls and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop tears from falling down your face.

“(Y/N), please, don’t go.” You could still hear Yuna giggling and when you stop to face her again, her smile was replaced with a look of sadness mirroring yours. She immediately ran up to you and reached out her hand, attempting to touch your face and wipe your tears away. However, you don’t give her the chance to do it, you swat her hand away.

Yuna persists, reaching out again with both hands and of course, you were just as stubborn, so you pushed her hands away again. You sobbed as you dodged her attempt to comfort you, blinded by sorrow and anger.

“(Y/N), just let me hug you!” Yuna said, stepping closer. You started to push her away with more strength, but of course you had to get tired. You had to stop resisting Yuna and allow her to embrace you, and you did exactly that.

“I needed you... to say something nice but you just laughed.” You sobbed into her shoulder.

Yuna started caressing your back, “I’m sorry.”

“You can be so mean sometimes.” You added, hitting the taller girl’s hip weakly.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

After that, Yuna led you to an abandoned playground. You remember just how many... interesting things have happened in that exact playground. The one you vividly remember was the one time you, Yuna, and some other kids from the neighborhood played tag. Yuna scraped her knee when she fell while running away from the tagger and you had never seen her cry so hard. You ended up taking her to your house to clean the wound.

You thanked the gods for making your father a nurse because if he wasn’t, then Yuna would probably have a lot of scars at present. She wasn’t the most careful kid back then. Whenever you met up with her in the park or in this playground, she would always have a bruise or two because she either fell from the monkey bars, tripped on air, or got into a petty fight.

If the park was where you shed a lot of tears, then this playground was definitely where Yuna shed hers the most.

“So,” Yuna started as she watched you carefully. The two of you sat on the swings, and yes, this was one of the very many places where Yuna fell flat on her face. “Why are you so upset?” The tall girl asked.

The paper has now been discarded so you couldn't see shoved it up to Yuna's face, "Did you not see my grades? I am flunking my classes, Yu. All of it." You said.

"It's not the end of the world! You can do better next year," Yuna replied. "And you will do better! If there's one thing you can do, it's picking yourself up and pushing past your limits."

You groaned and buried your face in your hands, "Yuna, I love you, and your optimism, but can we be realistic here? I can't keep on going like this. You know that." You lamented.

You feel Yuna's gentle hands pry your hands away from your face. She was kneeling down in front you, wearing her signature goofy grin, and you felt your heart skip a bit when you saw that familiar wonder in her big bright eyes.

"Times like this is when we need to be unrealistically optimistic the most! We need to set up a goal or something! Like, if you manage to do this, then I'll reward you that!" Yuna exclaimed, holding your hands tightly.

You look away and pouted, "Well, clearly I can't do anything, so..." You sighed. You hated being a pessimist, but you really couldn't help it in this situation. Studying hasn't always been your forte, mainly because you thought that you didn't need to do it. You always managed to get decent scores on tests and quizzes without studying. It wasn't until this school year that your grades started getting lower and lower.

"I'm so stupid." You muttered.

Yuna makes a sound of disapproval, "Don't be like that! You know you're smart! You just have to get back on your feet." She said. She started listing out the things the two of you can do to bring your energy back and get you out of that sunken place you were stuck on, but you barely listen.

You thought it was cute how Yuna would gasp loudly when she thinks she thought of the best idea ever. Her eyes would just shine with excitement and she would start bouncing, then she would yell at you to get up and get going.

At that moment you just wanted to hug her tightly, but for some reason, you thought that it would be too much.

Random hugs were cute back in the day, but something about doing them now, in this time and age, makes it weird. And not the good kind. At least not for you.

When you were younger, you loved the feeling of Yuna's embrace. You still do, and you always will, but things a bit... different. You always find yourself wanting to stay close to her for at least a second more, and sometimes you just want to stay in her arms forever.

Her scent puts you at ease and the feeling of her warmth makes you think that nothing can go wrong ever again. It was a dangerous feeling, and you didn't know what to do about it.

"Wanna know how I did in my test?" Yuna asked, sitting back down on the swing beside yours. She grabbed her backpack and pulled out a paper from it with a wide grin on her face. You didn't know what you were expecting, but you definitely didn't predict that Yuna, of all people, would get a D.

Seeing how much your eyes widened, Yuna lets throws her head back laughing.

"Yuna! What the hell happened?!" You asked, hitting your best friend in the arm lightly.

The taller girl slipped the paper back inside her bag and let out a shaky breath. She anxiously fiddled with her hands, and it was almost as if she didn't want you to know. Yuna slowly lifts her eyes from the ground and onto you, "I... I wanted you to win that stupid challenge." She said.

You blinked, "So you can treat me instead? Yuna, you know that I'd buy you ice cream regardless, right?" You asked, chuckling.

"I know! But... I like seeing you smile when you win," Yuna averts her gaze to the ground again, biting her lip out of embarrassment. "God, what am I saying?" She muttered.

You shake your head, still laughing, "You really didn't have to purposely fail an important test just to see me smile, you know."

"But it's you." Yuna replied. You didn't know what to say to that. What does that even mean? As much as you wanted to ask, you were afraid that your best friend might combust at the spot, so you simply did not respond.

(Unbeknownst to you, Yuna was regretting letting those words slip out of her mouth.)

A sudden burst of wind suprises you, and you couldn't stop yourself from shivering. You let out a breath and suddenly you were being pulled to your feet by Yuna, who wore an unreadable expression on her face. "Come with me. There's one more place I want to visit before we go." She said in a soft voice.

Yuna led you to an unfamiliar street. It’s either you have never passed by this part of the area or it was just your bad memory acting up once again. Your hand once again finds Yuna’s, you hadn’t even realized that you were holding your hand until you felt your palm dampening. You look at Yuna and saw that the tips of her ears were reddening as seconds pass. Weird.

Eventually, you realized that Yuna just walked you through another road to your old middle school. It shut down weeks after your graduation and a new and better one was built near the road that connects the shabby and honorable parts of the city.

“It’s a little sad how they don’t even try to demolish these old places. They just leave them here to rot on its own,” You said as you and your best friend neared the building. There were graffiti all over the walls, they looked amazing. “At least it’ll rot with art on it.”

From the other end of the wall, you hear Yuna laughing, “Hey, (Y/N), take a look at this.” She said, waving you over. You stood beside Yuna and followed her gaze. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of ‘RYU was here’ written near the bottom of the wall in big dark blue letters. Yuna takes out her black marker and writes ‘Hey, Ryu :) - Yuna, (Y/N)’ right under it, snickering at the thought of her friend spotting it one day.

“So, did you take me here to commit a crime? I thought we weren’t supposed to do that until like, third year of college when we’re sad, miserable, and regretting ever being born?” You asked, following the taller girl to the back of the building. You can see the way Yuna’s cheeks hunched up, indicating that she was smiling and definitely up to something. You just hope that neither of your parents will pick you up at the police station by the end of the day.

Right. I still have to deal with their initial reactions to my petty excuse of a grade, you thought, sighing to yourself.

“We’re here,” Yuna says as she stops walking. In front of you was a small hill that you and some other students from the school used to hang around in. On the other side of the hill was just another part of the area, so there wasn’t anything special about it. But you do remember laying down with Yuna and falling asleep while staring at the clouds. You have never felt so at peace. “I kind of wrestled a lot with Ryujin here which led to a lot of detention and suspension warnings. I’m sure you remember that part!” Yuna explains while pulling you towards the hill.

You hum in agreement, “Ah, yeah. Ryujin went here too.” You said. The two of you haven’t always been on each other’s good side. Ryujin hated how you allegedly forced Yuna to do all these goody-two-shoes things and you absolutely despised how Ryujin would get in trouble and drag Yuna down to hell with her. And until today, both of you still feel the same towards one another, but you have do doubt that you’d jump to defend Ryujin with your life when someone opposes her. She would do the same too, but she doesn’t tell you that.

Yuna lays down on top of the hill, using her backpack as her pillow, and pulled you down to join her. Her sweet cinnamon scent filled your nose and you already felt your nerves relaxing as she puts her arm around you shoulders, pulling you close. She rested her chin on top of your head (where you couldn’t see her beet-red cheeks).

“Do you feel better?” Yuna asked. You nodded, although you were still unsure of what to feel at the moment. You feel your heart racing uncontrollably, almost as if it wants to break out of your ribcage and leap out of your chest. Whenever you were this close to Yuna, it always happened. You always kept yourself still, afraid of the stupid thing you might do if you even move an inch.

(Yuna feels the same.)

“You know, when we were little brats, we promised each other that we won’t keep any secrets from one another no matter how horrible they are,” Yuna says as she slowly caressed your hair, feeling each lock between her fingers. Your eyelids started getting heavy and all you could do was nod weakly while you fought against the temptation to fall asleep. “Well, there’s this one thing I’ve been hiding from you for a while.” Your best friend continues.

Your eyes snap open upon hearing her words, “How long?” You asked.

Yuna pauses and takes a deep breath, “A few years.” She admitted.

Truth to be told, you were more surprised than pissed. Yuna never shuts up once she finds something interesting to talk about, so for her to keep a secret from you, who can basically pass as her other half, is something that has never happened before, ever. You were excited to find out what your best friend could be hiding all this time. A few years is a long time after all.

A wide grin spreads across your face, “This better be good, Shin Yuna.” You said.

“That’s up to you,” The taller girl muttered. She swallows thickly before starting her little story. “Towards the end of our first year here, we were laying down on this same spot. You felt tired from all the stupid work and games we did during recess, so I told you that you can rest with me. While you slept, Ryujin suddenly came up and... teased me, but I told her to shut up because I didn’t want you to wake up... since you looked so beautiful when you’re at peace like you were back then.” She spoke softly and carefully. She has always been afraid to spill way too much emotion than needed, you knew that. But you also knew that this was probably something she has been wanting to get off her chest.

You looked up, your heart beats a little louder when you meet Yuna’s gentle eyes, “Is... that it?” You asked.

Yuna releases a silent laugh and continues, “No. While you were sleeping, I thought about... about how I just wanted time to stop at that moment so that I can keep you in my arms forever, away from all the bad things out there, from Ryujin, and everybody else. I thought that it wouldn’t be so bad if I get to... spend the rest of my days with you. It sounds ridiculous because we were like, I don’t know, twelve that time... but that’s how I felt. And that’s how I still feel.”

It was weird. The way you felt exactly the same as Yuna, the way you would occasionally get lost in her eyes, the way everything seems to slow down just for you and her. Everything was weird, and it felt surreal.

Your breath hitches when Yuna lifts her hand and pushes your hair back, her fingers grazing your skin just a little and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Then... I kissed you. Right... here.” She taps your nose with her index finger and smiles nervously.

You take her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, and leaned closer, “The only bad thing in all of this is that I missed that kiss since I was passed out.” You said as blood rushed to your cheeks at the realization of what you were trying to do.

Yuna pulls you closer and she embraces you tighter, now you could feel how her heart was racing as fast as yours were, “Can I do it again, then? Properly this time?” She asked.

Your eyes fluttered close and that was the only answer Yuna needed. She leans down and plants a sweet kiss on top of your nose. At the same time, butterflies invaded in your stomach, making you laugh all of a sudden and hide your face on the crook of Yuna’s neck.

Yuna laughs with you, she was just as embarrassed but hearing your laugh made everything seem a little better.

“Hey, Yu?” You lean back to look into your best friend’s eyes again. She raises her eyebrows, prompting you to continue. “Thank you.” You say.

Yuna smiles brightly, and it was like thousands of suns were shining down on Earth, “Anything for you.”

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