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hajimesh · 3 years

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𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

⥅ eren jaeger / 1.8k words

warnings. manga spoilers, fluff and angst, gender neutral reader

a/n. my entry for anilysium's collab, don't forget to check the masterlist !! thank u sm temi for the beta ♡ @thefairywalker

hope is what makes someone hold onto a promise. and that hope it's worse than the broken promise itself.

—

845.

an autumn-like breeze cooled down the summer afternoon, and with the sky barren of any clouds, it was easier for the sun rays to land on those familiar blond strands.

"over there!"

eren's small hand—even though it was big enough to cover yours—wrapped around your wrist before it tugged you through the crowd. your rapid breaths were all you could hear while you mentally prayed to make it on time, just a couple more steps and you would be within reach, already staring at armin’s frightened face which caused your heart to jump. but what finally managed to send you in a state of despair was the sight of eren shoving the bigger kid away.

“what do you think you’re doing, yeager?!”

“are you hurt?” tears gathered at the corners of your eyes while you helped armin up on his feet, you didn’t have to turn around to know eren had received a punch, his pained wail making you flinch.

armin took your hand and together faced the scene before your eyes, holding onto each other's hands while tears dampened your cheeks.

“leave him alone!” the tremble in your voice was obvious, even after multiple fights with those kids it always ended up the same way. armin and you crying in fear for eren and mikasa's safety.

only this time mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“shut up!”

“don’t talk to them like that!” with a kick on the shin, eren managed to keep the bully out of commission for a few seconds. but that was enough for your saviour to arrive.

“leave before i call the garrison.”

relief began to relax your tense stance, you all knew that it wasn’t the moment to be wasting their time in a kid’s fight, the shortage of food seemed to worsen each day and keeping the people on a tight leash became harder as the days went by.

the kid seemed to finally realize he wouldn't win this time, so with a scoff he took a couple of steps back, "this isn't over," his annoyed gaze traveled from eren to you, "and try not to piss your pants next time."

the three of you watched him run away while the rush of adrenaline began to wear out on your bodies and gave in to the tiredness. had mikasa not intervened, the outcome would've been way worse.

"hey," eren was the first one to break the silence, turning towards you and landing a hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, the softness in his voice was your catalyst and soon you allowed the distress to overcome you, "oh no, don't cry!"

it was useless to try to get your tears to stop, falling one after another as your chest racked with broken sobs, "i-i'm sorry i couldn't be o-of help!"

armin watched in worry as eren tried and failed to get you to calm down. he could tell you were scared when you confronted the bully, your hold on his hand so tight he feared you would end up hurting yourselves. but even so, you had pulled through your fear and stood your ground, something he admired from you.

with a tug on your shirt, mikasa signaled you to start walking, her impassive yet reassuring gaze letting you know she was there for you.

"let's go home."

—

the warm steam that blew onto your blotchy face felt soothing, the taste of mrs. yeager's freshly brewed tea successfully relaxing the tightness in your chest as it ran down your throat.

you could already feel the tiredness hitting you all at once, begging you to lie down and close your eyes so you could rest your mind after the afternoon's occurrences. but with eren's eyes observing you, you knew you weren't off the hook yet.

"better?"

not trusting your voice, you hummed and smiled behind the cup resting on your lips, sniffling slightly when a flashback of eren being punched on the face appeared on your mind.

however, he didn't seem to be done with the topic.

"why did you stand up to him if you were so scared? you were lucky he didn't go for you."

"'cause i didn't want him to keep punching you."

"i don't need your help," his tone gave you the wrong impression. were you bothering him? a frown pulled your lips in a wobbly pout but he was quick to realize his error, "i mean, we should focus on armin, right? he's the one always in trouble."

you rocked your feet back and forth, watching them dangle from the chair as you mulled over his words. he wasn't lying, it was armin who often ended up as the victim of those bullies. at least when neither of you were around to aid him.

"i have a plan!" eren suddenly perked up, eyes brimming with excitement and pride as he obviously found his plan a good one, "dad always says that it's his duty to protect mom because they're married. so, if we get married, i can protect you and we can protect armin—together!"

you couldn't help but gasp, "married?! but we are too little!"

"not now, dummy. when we grow up!"

"what if i cry again and can't protect armin?" you voiced out your biggest worry as you pushed the cup away and made room on the table for your arm, resting your chin on top of it after yawning.

"i'll protect all of us," he didn't even hesitate, “and we have mikasa too.”

the silly promise made so much sense to your 10-year-old brain, which is why you held onto the hope and safety it gave you and agreed.

carla yeager squealed the news to her husband once eren and you had fallen asleep.

—

850.

there wasn't a day where you didn't regret not going with them.

the lively days soon became dull without eren and armin’s excited voices as they discussed the fire and icy lands in armin’s book, mikasa’s reassuring presence gone as well. but you knew you wouldn’t make it through the strenuous military training—or at least that was what you had told yourself.

truthfully, you wondered how were they not scared of continuing with their suicide mission of joining the legion, all those sacrifices just to see what was outside the walls. why couldn’t they be happy with what you already had? it wasn’t much, but you had each other, which was more than what most people could say.

with shiganshina gone, you became one of the refugees that lurked in the streets of trost. the conditions to live growing harsher, food and shelter becoming escarse and a luxury, but eren’s promise gave you enough strength to go on with your days until you landed a job as a waitress at a pub.

you missed them, all of them.

their names flew from the mouths of the military police and other higher ups that passed by, making you wonder what they were up to. however, when news spread about eren’s abilities to shift into one of those creatures, that old sense of worry shook you to your very core.

was he hurt? mikasa wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on him, but what if they separated them?

multiple scenarios ran through your head, many of them not so pleasing and only worsening your nerves. but if their names kept coming up in the authorities’ conversations after each and every mission, then it meant they were still alive.

unfortunately, all you could do was pray for their well-being and silently beg them to return.

—

854.

after years of not hearing his voice, it took you several seconds to recognize it.

“where– where are we? why–”

“you’ve changed,” his tone was soft yet hints of curiosity sept through as he marveled at you, “you look older..." prettier, he wanted to say.

having spent so many years without the intensity of his gaze, you realized you had grown unused to it, “you’ve changed too.”

it seemed like everyone had disappeared, except for you and him. dunes of fine sand slithered under your feet and a bright light illuminated the starry sky, converging by the horizon and causing his green eyes to shine in a way you had never seen before.

“eren… what’s all this?”

one moment you were surrounded by chaos, people screaming while an army of colossal titans walked south and eren declared war against the rest of the world; and the next it all had gone quiet, a man—eren—standing next to you while holding your hand.

"they will pay, and then we will be free," his thumb rubbed the skin on the back of your hand gently.

you caught the way his gaze hardened for a second, rage clear in his features but what confused you the most was the amount of hurt swirling in his eyes.

what did he mean by 'they'? you were aware of marley's feelings towards the eldians but was it truly that bad? there were so many questions you wanted to ask, but something told you that you didn’t have enough time so you chose to stick to the most important ones.

“how's mikasa? armin... is it true? he’s the colossal now?”

eren pulled you closer to him by tugging on your hand, cradling the side of your face with his free hand as a smile took over his lips.

"mikasa's busy kicking everyone's asses," he joked and you couldn't help but laugh, relieved at the sudden lightness in his voice. your eyes closed briefly when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, licking his lips before continuing, "armin... yeah, he's the colossal. looks like i need to find another excuse to marry you, hm?”

you found it unfair how after almost a decade, he could still hold such a power over your heart, the butterflies in your stomach feeling worse than what you recalled.

“you remember?”

he didn't miss the hope in your tone, his own heart aching at the thought of you assuming he had forgotten about your existence. there wasn't a day where he hadn't wondered about your well-being, were you safe? had a titan stole your life just like they had done with his mom? it was armin and mikasa who consoled him whenever the intrusive thoughts became too much to his already stressed mind.

“i never forgot.”

it was subtle, the way that kids promise evolved into a lifetime vow—but neither of you minded.

“i need you to promise me one more thing," he murmured, his breath fanning over your lips while your own faltered at his proximity.

“you’re leaving again,” it wasn't a question.

“i have to.”

it pained him to no end, but it had to be done. the warmth of his lips touched your forehead, your cheeks, and lips; staying longer on the latter while your hearts synchronized for a moment, sharing years worth of affection.

"stay here, on the island. find somewhere safe to stay until it all ends.”

a mere murmur on your lips, that was all it took to harm your hopeful soul.

"and don't wait for me."

#eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren fluff #eren angst #eren yeager #i missed writing angst hehe #eren.c

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jd-loves-everyone · 4 years

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Chapter 2: Kim Seungmin

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but I know that it was during his mom's (my mom's best friend) birthday, that I met Kim Seungmin.

The moment I stepped into the house, I could tell that, despite being a single mother, Ms. Kim was doing very well for herself. I can't really recall what her job was exactly, but I think it had something to do with tourism.

And as I stepped into the wide living room, I could guess that the party would probably get boring pretty quickly, if not downright annoying. This because of the too high number of kids (much younger than me) that I could see walking (some crawling) around, along with who I assumed were their mothers sat on the sofa, sipping champagne and laughing (obnoxiously) loudly.

"Oh my, is this your little girl? She does look just like you, I have to agree." I turned my attention back to the host, an adult woman (on the younger side) dressed to the nines with expensive and incredibly shiny jewelry. Ms. Kim. I greeted her politely, while standing next to my proudly grinning mother.

"She truly is a beauty. I bet the boys go crazy over you. Oh, you must be around my son's age, I'm sure he'd LOVE to meet you! Seungmin, darling! Come over here, meet Hana, Mrs. Park's daughter. She's just a year older than you, I believe."

A hazelnut brown haired boy walked over from the living room sofa, where he had been sitting, surrounded by children.

Despite being younger, Seungmin was quite a bit taller than me, with broad, but shyly hunched shoulders covered by a simple but expensive-looking pale pink sweater, paired with blue jeans and black sneakers (all seemingly of the same, high, level of quality). His hair was wavy and looked incredibly soft, covering his forehead and only showing a small sliver of the middle of it. He had a long angled face, ending at a square chin, with a mole next to his mouth and a straight nose. For some reason he reminded me of a puppy, a beagle to be exact. No idea why.

He smiled tightly and politely, the type of smile most would show in a situation like the current one. I could bet he would look much cuter with a genuine smile.

"Well, why don't you two go and get to know each other? Me and Mrs. Park over here, have a lot of catching up to do." Ms. Kim said jokingly, laying a hand on mine and Seungmin's shoulders and gently directing us back to the living room, as both ladies walked to the balcony. Ms. Kim took out a cigarette as they did. I could have guessed she smoked, no amount of expensive perfume (even if it was a lot of it) could fully cover that distinct smell of smoke.

I sat next to Seungmin on the couch, opposite of where the other older women were sitting, chatting loudly, still. In clear contrast to them, were us, sitting in absolute and tense silence.

Every time I thought of starting a conversation, I talked myself out of it, thinking that he'd do it instead. But he never did. He seemed pretty content with just sitting in relative (but definitely awkward) silence.

I quickly grew annoyed at having to listen to the women screech about everything that didn't matter in the slightest to me, like the latest trends and who was dating who at the moment. So, I turned toward Seungmin to try to figure out what he was thinking of the situation.

Unlike what I imagined, I turned to find him fidgeting and squirming in his seat while his eyes darted around the crowded room. Seeing as he showed outwardly what I was feeling inside, I decided to finally try to evade the situation.

"Look, I don't wanna be here. And clearly, neither do you. So, you know any place we could go to where it isn't so loud?" I asked somewhat impatiently making my accidental companion flinch from the suddenness of my question, scrambling for an answer.

"Well, my room has a balcony. It's pretty quiet there, I think."

"Then, what are we waiting for? Let's get out of here before I lose any more brain cells from listening to whatever uselessness those ladies are talking about over there." I said exasperated, already getting up from my seat as Seungmin quickly did the same. That seemed to make his lips twitch slightly. It was gone the next second, as if it had never been there to begin with, which piqued my curiosity: 'what would his real smile look like?', I wondered.

We headed to his room (thankfully unnoticed as I didn't want to even try and explain the situation we were in). It was big, but seemed smaller than it actually was due to all the clutter littered around. Despite this it still seemed to be very aesthetically pleasing, as the warm brown walls paired with the yellow string lights hanging around the room (which I only noticed after he flicked the light switch) and the soft and fluffy caramel carpet created a soothing and cozy atmosphere. A detail that caught my attention almost immediately after the lights were on (besides the string lights) were the various printed photos hanging from ropes on more than one of the room’s walls. It just helped with making the room feel as if it had been taken straight out of an interior design catalog.

Upon closer inspection, as Seungmin busied himself with trying to open the sliding door to the balcony, the pictures didn’t look anywhere near what I’d expected. They certainly didn’t look like the work of an amateur, the angles were creative and eye catching and the light and framing always seemed to be just right in each and every one. I was caught off guard by the quality of all of them for a moment, before my eye caught onto something atop a shelf to my right. A VERY expensive-looking white camera.

I realized it made sense as I thought back to the car ride from my suburban house to the apartment complex where he lived, in the fancier part of town.

Seungmin groaned in frustration as he struggled to open the balcony door.

“Is it jammed? Do you need my help?” I ask as I watched him wrestle with it for a moment longer before taking a deep breath and turning toward me.

“No, it’s not and no, I don’t. This door just needs a little… finessing, is all. So don't worry about it.” He tried reassuring before going back to trying to tug the door open, although with how skinny his arms looked (even under his fashionably bulky sweater), I had my doubts that he would be able to get the door open.

But I was proven wrong as, only a moment later, (by means of finesse indeed) he was finally able to open the hellish glass door.

“It’s old and I use it a lot, so it needs to be fixed, which we were supposed to do a while ago but whatever. Doesn’t matter. Come on.” He said absentmindedly, finally stepping outside. I quickly followed suit.

Once I stepped foot onto the white-tiled floor, I was hit with a gust of wind which brought with it an air much colder than the atmosphere inside the house had been like. And I mean MUCH colder, to the point where it didn't even help cool down my steaming cheeks, (which I only realized were so at that moment) only serving to basically freeze them instead. But I have to say, the view was worth it.

Living in the suburbs had a lot of perks in comparison to this part of town, such as the peace and quiet, and how everyone seemed to know each other. But I realized in that moment that none of it could compare to the view of the city skyline at night from Seungmin's balcony.

The lights of the buildings in the distance seemed to shine like stars and the shape of the tall and skinny buildings of the city were such a stark contrast to what I was used to that I just couldn't tear my eyes away. Of course I could hear the sounds of traffic from my house, but the night seemed much quieter than I had expected. The whole atmosphere was so different that it seemed so captivating to me just because of my curiosity.

It seemed like my curiosity wasn't wholly to blame for my astonishment at the scene, as Seungmin quickly disappeared back into his room to fetch something, as I leaned onto the metal railing, eyes still locked onto those bright lights that reflected off of the shiny windows of the fancier buildings. The city really never slept, I realized.

The boy returned not a moment later, camera in hand as he stood beside me, pointing it at where I was looking, then fiddling with some buttons before the sound of a photo being taken sounded over the now calmer wind, all as I observed him keenly.

As he continued to take his photos, seemingly unbothered by my staring, I turned back to the view, laying my cheek against my palm as I gazed at the sky. It made me think about how (unfortunately), because of all the artificial lights, I couldn't see the stars. But it made sense to me, in a very weirdly poetic way. If you can see all these "stars" on earth, why would you even look for stars in the sky? Plus, with the life people led these days, I guess it didn't really matter much.

I was brought out of my reverie by movement at the corner of my eye. Seungmin had raised his pristine white camera, aiming it at the side of my face, seemingly framing the shot, before pulling his face away from the viewfinder to look at my face himself but keeping his hands in the exact same place.

"Um... I know this is weird but, can I take a picture of you?" He asked nervously, but seemingly eager.

"Sure, why not?" I answered nonchalantly, trying my best to keep down the blush that threatened to spread across my cheeks, despite the cold. To even think that someone like him, who seemed close to a professional's level at such a young age, would consider including me in one of his photographs was flattering enough, much less making me the center of it.

I tried my best to relax and focus on the soft clicks the device emitted every time a photo was taken.

The boy finally parts from his machine, overlooking his work and nodding to himself, seemingly satisfied. He leaned the camera toward me so I could look at it myself and my breath is immediately taken from me.

I would never consider my appearance to be anything extraordinary (and I still wouldn't do it now) but perhaps it was Seungmin’s magic that made a picture of me look like so much more. The way the golden lights lit up my face by settling into the smooth planes of skin made it resemble liquid gold, dripping from the sky and thinly covering my exposed features. My eyes reflected the same lights, shining like stars in an endless and dark sky.

“Wow… Seungmin, you really have a talent.” I chucked, still astonished.

“I do have to say, this might be my best one yet. Can I…?”

“Keep it, it might be my face, but it’s your vision so it belongs to you in my eyes.” I shrugged, dismissively. He nodded gratefully, raising the camera once again towards the view beyond the balcony as I sat against the wall next to the door.

After a few minutes, Seungmin sat beside me with a satisfied smile on his lips and hair tousled from the wind that had picked up.

I felt an involuntary shiver crawl up my back as the cold air grazed my thinly covered arms. I subconsciously leaned closer to the brown haired boy, seeking for some warmth, as I remembered that I had left my jacket in the coat hanger by the front door, downstairs.

I sighed defeatedly, about to go get it, but it seemed as if my shiver had not gone unnoticed, as I had hoped. Seungmin got up before I could, walking back inside his room without a word. I looked at the door that he had gone through curiously.

Not even a second later, he stepped back out onto the balcony, with a tan, soft and warm looking coat in his hand. He held it out to me wordlessly, motioning for me to take it. I did so with a grateful smile and a small 'thanks'. It was still too small for my liking, though.

I wanted to know if his gums would show or if his eyes would disappear behind his cheeks.

“I think we should go inside now.” I suggested after the temperature had gone down too much for us to stay comfortably on the balcony any longer. Seungmin nodded, not finding the lights interesting enough to endure the cold air any longer.

We moved back inside and as Seungmin closed the sliding door behind us I took another look around the room. As I scanned the coffee-colored walls again, I noticed something that I seemed to have missed the first time I had examined the space, possibly due to the awkwardness I had felt as I stepped into the room of a boy I had only just met for the first time. I was a bit disappointed and confused as to how I could have missed it.

The wall opposite the one I had been inspecting as I waited for Seungmin to finally open the door, was covered (almost floor-to-ceiling) in photographs. Some were bigger than others, some seemed older than others, but they all had the same sort of… style to them. From how the light hit the subject in focus, to the angles, it all had the same artistic flare that would commonly be found in the most prestigious art galleries in the world. Maybe that was a bit of an overstatement, but it perfectly encapsulated what I felt as I looked at what I saw as indisputable masterpieces.

I let out a sound akin to a sigh, feeling as if the air had been knocked out of me. Sure, the picture Seungmin had taken of me on the balcony was unbelievably stunning, but that could be excused as luck. I never thought he’d be able to capture a moment so beautifully one other time, let alone enough times to cover almost an entire wall with.

“Wow… These are amazing, Seungmin.” I turned towards him as he stopped beside me, blushing at my praise.

“Oh, they’re nothing…” He said, looking down sheepishly.

“No! They really are! I may know next to nothing of photography, but it doesn't take an expert to see that you have an incredible talent or just remarkable skill.” I said earnestly, seeking out his eyes that had become hidden as his head lowered in shyness to prove my honesty, making him even more flustered as he tried his best to avoid my awe-stricken gaze.

“Well… I do spend a lot of time on it.” He relented, finally accepting my compliments, albeit rather bashfully.

“It shows.” I said firmly, turning back to the wall of moments.

From the corner of my eyes I caught a small, but more significantly sized, real smile, brought on probably by the ease in tension.

We spent the rest of the night in his room, getting to know each other. His smile (the real one) never left his lips as we talked about his love for photography. In fact, it only seemed to broaden the more we talked and the more relaxed we became. Its brightness never dimmed, even as we moved on to other topics, such as his other friends and what school he frequented. I found out that he didn’t have many friends, but he didn't seem to mind, he actually seemed to prefer it that way which made me feel like an exception. And, although I wouldn’t admit it, it made a warm feeling bloom in my chest.

As the night came to an end, we were called downstairs, back to the living room, where mine and Seungmin’s mom waited, alone as no one else remained in the space.

We bid each other goodbye, Ms. Kim making a comment about how I should visit more often, making my mother laugh as Seungmin returned to his shy demeanor.

I later found out that he had chosen my high school to frequent through Jeongin, the 1st year student that I mentored in English, who was apparently also Seugmin’s best friend. Once I met with the boy again and asked why he hadn’t told me, he explained that he wanted to but every time we talked we’d get carried away in our stories and he’d always forget.

Moving schools midyear couldn’t have been easy for him, but he seemed to quickly become very popular amongst not only the students but the teachers as well. He was polite, friendly, helpful and the top of his class in grades. And despite it being only his first year of high school, everyone from his teachers, to his mother and even my own, could tell with clear certainty that he had a bright future ahead of him. I myself knew that, encouraging him as he started thinking about studying abroad, even as I briefly acknowledged the ache that formed in my chest at the thought of him doing so. I didn’t know exactly what that ache was due to, but I didn’t think I was ready to find out yet, so I continued to brush it off. Until a very special evening that is.

In light of Seungmin joining the photography club, his keen eye was quickly noticed by not only his classmates, but most importantly by his teacher, who decided to talk to him about the possibility of participating in our district’s photography contest. Something he had immediately said ‘yes’ to.

The 10 best were invited to a lavish event where the winner would be revealed. And it came as no surprise to me that Seungmin was invited. What did come as a surprise, was him asking me to attend the event with him. He said it was fitting, since one of the entries he submitted was the first photo he took of me, the one on the balcony. After getting over the initial surprise, I agreed without hesitation.

But now, staring at the museum’s grand staircase in my knee-lenght, flowy, peach colored dress, I felt my stomach twist itself into more knots than I had in my hair when I woke up that morning. And as the cold, spring night air brushed my bare legs I simultaneously wanted to stay where I was, rooted to the ground and holding tightly onto Seungmin’s arm, while also wanting to go in and just getting it over with so that I could escape the cold.

A reassuring squeeze on my hand put a pause on my anxious thoughts as I turned towards the puppy eyed boy I was here for.

As I looked him over once more I felt my mood brighten a bit, I almost wanted to giggle. He was sharply dressed in a simple black tuxedo with a yellow tie, that he said he had chosen to try to match my dress. But it wasn’t the brightly colored tie that almost made me laugh despite the mood I was in.

It was simply the image of Seungmin, who basically only wore jeans and loose-fitting shirts and hoodies despite his mother’s insistence in telling him that he had to look his best at all times, wearing such formal clothing that caused such a reaction.

His cheeks were colored pink as he, seemingly, chose to focus on the spot above my left eyebrow instead of looking me in the eye, which reminded me of what had transpired just minutes before.

As I arrived at his house before the event, so we could arrive together, I was immediately warmly greeted by Ms. Kim, who told me that Seungmin would be ready in just a moment. We made small talk about school as we waited, and soon I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the entrance.

As Ms. Kim stepped aside to look at her son, my eyes immediately locked onto the vibrant tie he had previously told me he would wear, before moving up to his face, which was a sight in and of itself.

His lips were parted in awe and his cheeks were flushed a light pink, which darkened as he locked eyes with me, prompting both of us to look away shyly.

“You look— Ahem. You look lovely.” He said, voice cracking midway.

“Thank you! You look pretty… Snazzy!” I don’t think I’ve ever regretted saying something as much as in that moment.

As people continued to enter the building, we still stood outside, trying to calm each other’s nerves more than our own. Seungmin tried his best to look me in the eyes and give me a reassuring smile, but it ended up being none of that. A for effort nonetheless.

“Let’s just get this over with.” I finally said, trying to appear nonchalant and unbothered as I quaked in my low black heels.

As we stepped into the building, Seungmin’s mother left the both of us alone to go socialize and we were left to our own devices. We decided to pass the time by looking around at the other participants.

We walked among the crowd of mostly adults who looked at us as if we were supposed to be somewhere else, it was unnerving to say the least. To quell our nerves we poked fun at things such as the models’ poses and the weird props used in some pictures. We were both well aware that what we were doing was probably disrespectful (if the artists were to overhear us) and that others were probably doing the same to our photos, but we couldn’t help it, they just looked too pretentious to not make fun of. What did they expect from two highschool kids?

I genuinely hoped that Seungmin was chosen as the winner, and not because he was my friend (at least not entirely). But because all the entries we had passed by didn’t seem to have any genuine emotion put behind them, or any creativity. They seemed like those art pieces that appear to portray a deep message but would seem like nonsense to anyone that had even a semblance of common sense and wasn’t content in just going along with whatever some high and mighty creator threw them. Not to mention the fact that most seemed to be relying only on their expensive cameras to win them the prize instead of actually putting any real thought or effort into their photos.

I knew I was nowhere near an “art-connoisseur”, I wasn’t even a contestant, but after spending so much time with Seungmin and his heartfelt pieces, I had formed my own opinion on art.

Just as we started to run out of “humorous critiques”, unknowingly almost wandering into a closed off section, a nearby speaker declared that the winners would soon be announced and for all the guests to gather in the main room.

Many eyes locked onto us as we entered the large (but slightly cramped) room. (Or was that just my nerves?) Just as I thought, we seemed to be the youngest people in the room as far as I could see (which wasn’t very far as everyone was so tall, and my heels barely helped), except for some kids who were very clearly some contestant’s children. It made me feel proud for Seungmin and intimidated, at the same time.

I unconsciously began to curl into myself, clenching my fists at my sides and chewing on my bottom lip as anxiety began to wash over me, slowly but surely. I began wondering if Seungmin even had a chance to win, how heartbroken I thought he’d be if he lost and what the other contestants found so interesting in us to keep staring as I knew they were as we approached the front of the room where a small platform was raised, behind it were the paintings competing. The lady next to us gave us an odd look, as if she thought we might be lost, but didn’t say a word.

As if noticing my distress, or perhaps to ground himself, Seungmin’s hand snuck between my hand and my side, the tip of his fingers tentatively hovering over my palm as if wanting to hold my hand but unsure if he could. With an uncharacteristic burst of confidence, brought on by the need to hold onto something, I interlocked our fingers tightly, squeezing once for comfort.

A man stepped on stage, asking the crowd to quiet down, and it was as if my brain had listened to his command and suddenly everything became quiet. Looking at the boy beside me, his expression seemed to reflect the same emotions, but as he noticed my stare he managed to conjure up a vaguely reassuring smile.

I felt more than a little silly for being so stressed out over something that Seungmin probably would just brush off, but the idea of how elated he would become if he won was just too perfect to be taken away from me. I just wanted to see him happy. No matter what.

And as my mind zeroed into that thought, the realization of a fact that had actually always been there hit me. It was so obvious that the meaning never fully registered.

I wanted to see Seungmin happy, no matter what, and the implications that were previously lost on me now came to light. It was more than friendly, that was for sure.

As the man on stage went one with his speech, my mind lingered on precious images I had saved in my brain, like Seungmin’s smile. His genuine smile and not the stiff and fake version he first presented to me. I felt how much joy and comfort it brought me.

All his pictures, and how many emotions they brought me.

How he always called ME first when he wanted to take a specific picture because I was apparently his favorite model.

How my heart would skip a few beats when Jeongin mentioned that he’d said something about me, always wondering what exactly it had been but never asking.

How warm and soft his hand felt in mine, and how much comfort the simple action of holding his hand brought me.

It all made me realize that there was something there, something strong and important.

And once my mind shifted back to the situation at hand, the third place had already been announced and the second on its way to the stage. This meant one of two things, either Seungmin would be first place, or he hadn’t even reached the podium. I prayed for the first option, but expected the second.

So I looked back to the young boy’s piece, and all the memories and emotions it held.

It was a photo taken in Seungmin’s balcony, of me leaning against the metal railing. My face was dark as I faced away from the unfocused colored lights behind me and towards the camera. My hair was wet from the rain, droplets running down my face and neck towards my floor-length dress, which from what I remember was way too thin as I started sneezing almost immediately after the long time it took to get that picture to be perfect. I couldn’t see or recall what my expression was since all that could be seen of my front were the minuscule bits of light some droplets reflected.

I remembered the moment Seungmin saw the dress on me, he seemed to have an epiphany, immediately demanding that we needed to have a photoshoot with it. It was nothing special in my eyes, but he seemed to see something in it.

He was immediately taken with the picture as he saw it first in his mind and then on his screen, much like he had been with the one he took on the night we met (which he, at first, wanted to use as his submission to the last stage of the competition, until I managed to make him understand that it just wasn't enough). It was colorful, bright, full of youth and life, in my eyes.

“And the winner is…” The announcer said, making my grip on Seungmin’s hand become impossibly tighter. And as the name of the winner was spoken and I registered that it wasn’t my friend’s (or maybe more) name, my shoulders dropped and my hand went lax in the boy’s hold. I looked at the winner's piece, in search for some answers or closure, for a turmoil that wasn’t really mine to feel.

The older man’s piece was a picture of a meteor shower, rare and undoubtedly beautiful. The stars shone in the sky just like the rain had on my skin, yet to me, they seemed so different.

I searched my brain for answers to why this was so much better than our piece, fundamentally ours had more layers, even more colors. And it had a story, of all the times we spent alone on that balcony sharing dreams and visions, and as far as the judges knew the story could be much different, much deeper and…

Then I realized what went wrong. The judges couldn’t score a piece simply for what it could be, but for what it was. The meteor shower was a beauty of nature, unquestionable and clearly on display to all, while the beauty of Seungmin’s photo seemed to be wholly personal, something that perhaps not all could see or feel the full weight of. I felt silly for letting my emotions cloud my vision for so long and so intensely but with my new found feelings for the boy, it wasn’t all that surprising. It still didn’t take away the feeling of my heart being shattered into many tiny pieces as Seungmin was announced as being in fourth place. Fourth place! So painfully close. But what really hurt, was the tight and insincere smile he presented to me after giving what he probably hoped was a reassuring squeeze of my hand, but actually only served to stomp on the tiny pieces left of my heart, shattered through pure disappointment and sadness.

All the other adults were quick to begin mingling as soon as all the names were announced. I released a sigh.

“Fourth place, for the first time, isn’t terrible. I think.” Seungmin said, positively, and what I managed to grant him as a response was a low hum of sad and resigned agreement.

Figuring that the night was technically over for us, as we had nothing else to do in that space since we weren’t about to begin socializing with a bunch of adults who still looked at us as if we didn’t belong there, we walked to the entrance room, Seungmin sending his mother a text to come to us.

“Excuse me! Are you Kim Seungmin, perhaps?” Said a middle-aged man as he approached us with a smile.

“Yeah- I mean, yes. That would be me. Did you need something?” The boy asked nervously, clearing his throat.

“Yes! I need to talk to you! I think it’s impressive that you even managed to get this far with your age, and to be fourth place as the youngest competitor just shows how much potential you have! I commend you for your work and passion!” The man said excitedly.

I once again tuned their conversation out, only coming back to the present to send the occasional polite smile and to walk to the car once Seungmin’s mother arrived (and was done speaking to the lively man).

A certain possibility which caused me both joy and sadness loomed over me as we got back to the Kim family apartment, me and my friend walking up the stairs towards his balcony to sit in as we waited for my mother to come pick me up, as she had insisted on doing.

My beautiful dress did me no favors against the cold wind of the balcony, leaving me curled up in front of the glass sliding door facing the bright city lights while shivering slightly, but not thinking for a moment to go get a jacket and I did all that on autopilot.

Just as the cold was starting to sober me up and break me out of my trance, a jacket (too large to be mine) was laid across my shoulders, before Seungmin sat beside me. That tan, warm and soft jacket from what seemed like so long ago.

“Why do you look so down? If it’s for me, then there's no need. Fourth place really isn't that bad, plus, and you probably weren't paying attention but the man me and my mother talked to offered me a chance to get a scholarship! In the states no less! I mean, first I have to apply and a spot isn't exactly one-hundred percent guaranteed, but I got a pretty good chance!” He very much reminded me of a puppy in that moment, ecstatic and jumpy, full of smiles and talking so fast that he became slightly breathless.

I battled with myself. He clearly seemed excited over the prospect of studying abroad and although it felt like my life’s mission at that moment was making him as happy as possible, I really, really, didn’t want him to go. To be so far away from me.

“And I know it makes very little sense, but… I want you to come with me. Don’t think about it too much, or you’ll stress yourself out but I feel like you made this opportunity possible, so I’d love to have you by my side. What do you say? I mean, you don’t have to say it now, we still have time. But, maybe you could give me a pointer?” He looked at me with those big puppy eyes full of hopes and dreams, begging to not be shattered.

He was right, the whole thing didn’t make a lot of (if any) sense, and it seemed like he was just riding the good mood he was in, but the answer still seemed to matter a lot to him.

Truth be told, I had absolutely no intention or interest in studying abroad and even though it was a priceless opportunity for Seungmin, I didn’t want him to go either. I didn’t want things to change so drastically. I wanted to keep him warm smiles and comforting touches near (and possibly all to myself).

But he was right, it wouldn’t happen for at least a couple of years, so truly there was no need for a definitive answer.

“I’ll think about it.” I said to which he nodded, seemingly pleased, before turning his gaze to the mesmerizing lights of the city.

Even though I said what I said, I knew my real answer already. I truly didn’t want to go.

But as I looked at his side profile, the faintest (but cutest) ghost of a self-satisfied smile on his lips, I knew that I would do anything for even that smile, which was so small and probably careless, even if it meant taking Seungmin halfway across the world, and away from me.

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words-writ-in-starlight · 6 years

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TAZ FIC ASKS: I have my own interpretation that I'm enormously fond of, but how do you think one Julia Waxmen met one Magnus Burnsides?

Bless you. I swear that Julia shows up at some point here, this just…got away from me in grand fashion.

Magnus Burnsides wakes up with what is frankly the most hideous hangover of his entire life. It feels less like he’s been drinking and more like someone’s been rummaging through his brain, and if he had any marks to prove it, he’d think he’d had his clock cleaned to boot. But he doesn’t have any marks, he just has the worst headache that the gods ever laid on a living being, and he’s in–well, he’s not sure where he is.

Magnus is only twenty-three and not necessarily an expert at waking up in unknown locations, but he flatters himself to be a professional at waking up hungover, so he lies there with his hands over his face for a while longer, and doesn’t try to take stock until it feels less like he’s holding the fragments of his head together. Only then does he sit up–slowly–and look around.

He’s dressed, and he has his belt pouch with his coins, so he’s going to assume that he hasn’t been robbed. Except for the headache and nausea–he can’t tell if the headache is causing the upset stomach or not, and doesn’t feel inclined to test it–he seems to be all right. He’s in a room with the clean, impersonal look of an inn, somewhere that’s never really been someone’s home, and the heavy curtains are closed, which he appreciates as anything brighter than the light filtering through around the edges might actually kill him.

It takes a few more minutes to muster his strength to stand, and all his joints complain, like he’s been sleeping on the ground rather than a passably nice bed. He’s not sure he can afford this inn, on closer consideration, but then he supposes that depends on how much money he spent on getting exceedingly drunk.

Someone in his immediate vicinity is baking fresh bread. The nausea must be part of the headache, because he’s dying to have some.

Magnus follows his nose out into the hall–he only remembers to check his pockets after hearing the lock on his room click into place, and turns out drunk Magnus really knew his shit, because there’s a key fastened to his belt so he doesn’t lose it–and down a flight of stairs to a small tavern beneath the rooms. There’s a Drow woman with her hair piled up in a thousand braids pulling loaves out of an oven in the kitchen, and a half-orc pulling chairs down from tables.

“Hey,” the half-orc says with a grin, “he’s alive.”

“Yeah,” Magnus says ruefully, shading his eyes as he steps far enough inside to take the sunlight right in the face. “I’m not thrilled about it either. What time is it?”

“Ten or so? We expected you to sleep until dinner, with how hammered you were last night.” The half-orc comes over and steers Magnus by the shoulder into a chair, then disappears for a moment and insinuates something into his hand. It’s hot and tastes acrid and sharp, but something in Magnus says better finish that, kid and he knocks it back as fast as he can. His eyes don’t feel like they’re being pried out of his skull anymore, once it’s gone, and he blinks.

“Last night?”

The Drow comes out of the kitchen, sweat beaded on her black skin and the sharp points of her teeth flashing at him. “You must have been drunker than we thought. We didn’t even get a name off you.”

“Magnus,” he says, toasting her with the empty cup. “Magnus Burnsides.”

She nods and laughs and says, “Now that’s a goddamn name. I’m Opal, and that’s Jolene. You can call her Jolly. How much do you remember, Magnus Burnsides?”

Magnus considers that question for a minute.

“Where…the fuck am I?”

Jolly whistles from behind the counter and Opal raises a white eyebrow. “Bud,” she says, and she sounds almost impressed. Magnus just sort of shrugs at her, because…well, yeah. Fair enough. “You’re at Red Door Inn, in the hostel column. You feeling okay?”

“I feel kind of like my head’s been stomped on,” he says. “And I’m actually gonna need a little more than ‘Red Door Inn.’“

Opal’s other eyebrow joins the first. “Bud. Do you–is there someone we can find for you? Like, are people gonna be worried that you just–fuckin’ disappeared on them?”

Magnus frowns and thinks about that one. “No,” he decides, because the most recent people he can think of is the merchant caravan he was traveling with, and that was a while ago. “No, I can’t think of anyone.”

Opal sighs, swoops away the empty cup and replaces it with a mug full of what smells like very dark tea and a slice of bread with a small pot of jam, the bread still steaming gently. “Here,” she says, in a tone of command. “Eat something. Careful with the–the all of it, it’s hot.”

“Thanks,” Magnus says, and stuffs the entire slice of bread into his mouth in four bites with absolutely no consideration for the temperature. Once he’s done with it–it’s good, rich and warm and sweet and it soothes a little more of the headache–he swallows a couple mouthfuls of the black tea and looks up at Opal. “Where did you say this was again?”

Opal smiles at him, and so does Jolly, from behind the bar. “Welcome to Ravensroost, Magnus Burnsides.”

***

Opal and Jolly are nice enough to let him stay there at half-price, because drunk Magnus was apparently smart with his money but no version of Magnus is exactly rolling in gold, while he figures himself the hell out. He takes the first day to recover from his headache, because the idea of facing unfiltered sunlight is just…bad. It’s bad. He’s not into it. He talks to Opal and Jolly and lingers in the tavern while people trickle in and out for the lunch rush, but he can’t seem to get anything back about the night before, and he reluctantly writes the whole situation off as a loss. Magnus wishes, idly, over dinner, that he had people to drink with, because he thinks that would be better. At the very least, if he had some people who had stuck with him, they would be able to do things like say “hey, thug, you accidentally went walkabout while you were drunk and here’s where you started from.”

Oh well.

The downside to Magnus’ largely itinerant lifestyle these days is that traveling costs money, it’s going to start getting cooler soon, and Magnus does not currently own a jacket or any other weather-appropriate gear that would enable him to travel, which costs more money.

So the day after he wakes up in Ravensroost, Magnus wanders downstairs–at a more reasonable hour, because he isn’t dying today–and asks Jolly where a guy could get some work in this town.

“Well,” Jolly says as she wipes down the counter and prepares to open. Jolly is a methodical kind of person, steady and efficient at her job, and she looks intimidating for someone who apparently hides behind the counter when the elf she has a crush on comes inside. “What kind of work? You want to wait tables or some shit? You look more like a brawler.”

“I don’t know,” Magnus says. “Probably not waiting tables, though.”

“Yeah, you seem like your customer service could use some work.” Jolly wrings out her rag thoughtfully. “Well, there might be a merchant caravan in for the market, they might be looking for laborers there. Short of that–I don’t know, we’re mostly a crafters town, you know what I’m saying? Not exactly a lot of places looking for a dude the size of a brick wall.”

“Crafters?”

“Yeah, you know anything?”

Magnus looks down to where he’s absently playing with the knife in his hand–his grandfather’s knife. His muscles know how to hold it to whittle a curve, to smooth a line. “You got carpenters here?”

“Hell yeah!” Jolly says, grinning at him. “You want directions?”

“No,” Magnus says. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

Magnus does not figure it out. He’s managed to get handily lost by the time he washes up on the outskirts of a marketplace, and he would swear he was better at this directions thing, but apparently not. He’s not even sure he can get back to the inn. He’s lingering at a stand displaying scarves and kerchiefs and other cloth items, fingering something in a bright shade of crimson and trying to decide what to do, when someone behind him clears their throat, amused.

“Hey,” says a voice, rich and throaty, a little raspy and–laughing at him. “Do you want to buy that scarf or take it out to dinner?”

Magnus turns, startled, and there’s a woman–human, middling skin freckled darker across her broad nose, wild curls pinned back–smirking at him. She’s tall, less than a head shorter than Magnus and Magnus is very tall indeed, and she has a burn scar across the back of her forearm, and she’s…she’s something.

“What?” Magnus says, in a moment of dazzling charisma.

“I mean,” the woman goes on, “don’t let me stop you, hot shot, but I walked past twenty minutes ago and you were still here, so I’m starting to think maybe you’re lost.”

Magnus feels a little like he’s been slapped in the face, but in a good way? His brain doesn’t seem to be agreeing with itself about this experience.

The woman’s face softens a little, although she doesn’t stop grinning at him. “Seriously, though, are you lost?”

“Yeah,” Magnus says. It surprises him a little that it didn’t even cross his mind to lie. “I’m new in town and I kind of need…money. I was trying to find a carpenter’s shop that might need an assistant or something.”

“Are you a carpenter?” the woman asks, curious.

“Not much of one,” Magnus admits. “I haven’t had a lot of practice. But I can whittle, and to be honest–uh, recent events sort of make me think I might need a new line of work. Maybe a line of work with…a house or some shit like that.”

“Recent events?”

“I–sort of ended up here by…accident,” he says. “I was…real hammered.”

The woman laughs properly at that, and it’s a loud, full sound that comes from the depths of her core and doesn’t seem to give a damn about anyone looking at her, and it drags a grin out of Magnus.

“It’s destiny,” the woman proclaims, still laughing, and pawns a shockingly heavy bag on Magnus without missing a beat. He takes a peek and sees metal ingots, of all things, inside–small ones, silver and even a small one made of gold, but still. “Come on, hammer boy, let’s go.”

The woman is already walking away at a decent clip by the time Magnus catches up with her.

“Where are we going?”

“To my dad’s shop,” she says, grinning up at him. She loops her arm through his and they fall into step and Magnus wonders, a little bit, if he’s been kidnapped, possibly. “Waxmen’s Woodworks. We’re thinking about a new name, now that I kind of work there too–I do metalwork, see? So we gotta switch that up. Dad likes Waxmen and Daughter, but I keep telling him that it needs to be catchier.”

“Your dad’s a carpenter?”

“Yeah, obviously. Didn’t you hear me say some bullshit about destiny? Keep up, hammer boy.” She plows on ahead, still smiling warmly, and Magnus doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this–it’s not that she’s pretty, although she certainly is, but there’s a level of unthinking care for him, just because he was lost and she knew how to help him. Compassion, maybe? Something like being adopted on the spot, and Magnus doesn’t remember the last time a stranger offered him that. Even Opal and Jolly, benevolent innkeepers by any measure, are being paid for their generosity.

“I could suck at carpentry, for all you know,” Magnus points out as they climb one of the columns, a spiral path winding around the outside and passing shop fronts every few yards.

“Well, do you?” she asks. Magnus…isn’t sure, he realizes. It must have been longer than he thought, since he whittled something. He shrugs, and the woman seems to take his word for it, and nods decisively. “I mean, Dad’s always saying that if you know which end of a knife to hold, you can probably figure it out, so if you suck, I guess you can just figure it out. You’ll stop sucking eventually. Besides, Dad’s in the market for an assistant, not a master craftsman. You look like you could carry wood.” She gives him a cheerful thump in the arm.

“I could be an axe murderer, for all you know.”

“Nah,” she says. “I’ve got a good feeling about you.” She jerks him into such a hard right he almost falls over, and she throws open a door to a room that smells of sawdust and smoke and lacquer. “Dad! I brought you a present!”

There’s a thump in a back room and a fondly exasperated voice precedes her father into the showroom. “Baby girl, I swear to god–who’s this?”

“This is your present,” she says, and pushes Magnus forward like she’s displaying a particularly good find at the market. Magnus supposes that she sort of is. “Hammer boy, say hello to your new boss. Daddy, you’re going to hire hammer boy. You were talking about wanting an assistant, and he’s a kind of shitty carpenter who needs work and a place to live. It’s fate.”

Her father–Waxmen, apparently–looks past Magnus to his daughter with a tolerantly amused look on his face. “And do I get to interview hammer boy, or is he just hired now?”

She shrugs. “I mean, interview him if you want, but just think how guilty you’d feel if you kicked him out on the street.” Waxmen narrows his eyes at her, and she beams, sailing past Magnus to reclaim her bag full of ingots and kissing her father on the cheek as she passes him by. “Thanks, Dad. You have fun, hammer boy!” she calls over her shoulder, and then she’s gone into the back room, and Magnus is alone with, apparently, his new boss.

It’s only then, staring after her in shock, that Magnus realizes that he never got her name.

#taz #the adventure zone #magnus burnsides #julia burnsides #taz fic #starlight writes stuff #otp: the arms that have held my wife #2500 words later....#i'm sorry this just super got away from me #i am not married to this but i do really like the idea of julia just....swooping magnus up in her little hurricane #and dropping him off at steven's doorstep like some kind of craig's list matchmaker #i've decided that i like the idea of julia doing fine metalwork #like filigree and pretty hinges and shit like that #i'm also thinking that probably steven changed the name of his shop once there were multiple people working there #but yeah anyway the only things i'm committed to here are the tongue-in-cheek references to magnus' lost memories #and julia waxmen the fucking human hurricane in a sundress #it's fine magnus is into that #fic request #sroloc elbisivni #asked and answered #taz balance

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