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everydayanth · 4 years

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Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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monstaxdirtywonk · 4 years

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Love Syndrome

Member : Wonho X reader

Genre : Fuff, some angst, some smut

Synopsis : A girl obsessed with Neurology takes an experiment on dating Hoseok, who has no idea this is a joke to her. Her experiment will turn against her when she’ll actually start falling in love...

You weren't like the other girls. Maybe this will turn out to be one of those memes online but no, you truly meant it. As a kid, you despised dolls and castles, pink and unicorns. You showed a great interest in mechanics, cars (mostly destroying them and notice their parts), puzzles and balls. Truth be told, you were proud of yourself and how independent you grew to be. Your friends were crying every once in a while for that hottie blondie who broke up with them, while you did your best at comforting them. Relationships were an unnecessary drama, one you did not want to take part in. You’re fine the way you are! An academic career is in front of you, traveling the world and finally, being what you always wanted...a woman of logic, of sense, of credibility. No drama, no annoying clingy boyfriends, no crying sessions. No. No. No. You know what's best in life and that’s what’s your way.

Your friend Val was over for support. There’s been a month since she broke up with the ex and still can’t let go. After hours of fake sentimentalism, you’ve had enough.

“You know what...I’ve got the perfect solution for you.”

Val raised her teary eyes and looked curiously to your side.

“You can get a dog! Yes that’s perfect, I should’ve thought about it sooner,

“okay thank you for trying to make me laugh but it’s not helping.”

“This isn’t a joke. it’s a real solution and a much more practical one than me just telling you sweet nonsense of ‘comfort’. Dogs, when in contact with humans, release a chemical in our brain called oxytocin, just like when you are with your partner. Instead of having the side effects and ups and downs of a relationship, a dog is much more devoted and drama free. Boom, you’ve got double win.”

“I swear sometimes I feel like you’re Sheldon from Big Bang theory in a female form.”

“Thank you for that compliment but I am not as good as the flawless mastermind Sheldon himself is.”

“You know what, Ima leave before we fight, the least thing I’m looking for is this.”

“Okay fine but think about it.”

You said as you made your way to the door along her. Val grinned and left without a second word. I mean you were right, even you thought of adopting a cute poodle. It’s much better than ‘adopting’ a boyfriend. Plus dogs are always happy when they see you. Maybe a dog is a good idea.

You checked the watch and it hit you.

“Damn, I’m late!” you exclaimed and took your purse heading out of the door.

----

‘When in love, you experience a rush of hormones to the brain — including oxytocin, the “love hormone,” the “pleasure hormone” dopamine, and sex hormones like estrogen and testosterone. ‘

You aren’t the type to believe in coincidences but if they exist, this can’t be one. Out of all those subjects, did they have to talk about love’s effect on the brain today? Unbelievable. But interesting at the same time, no wonder everyone’s so invested in this called ‘dating culture’.

“Y/N, we’ll be in the cafeteria downstairs. Don’t be too late.”

“I won’t I promise.”

The proffessor looked at you intensely. You noticed and moved your head upwards.

“Actually I’ll close the class! Sorry about that but I have my lunch break.”

“Ah totally. I’m so sorry Mr.Jones for ‘eating your time away’” You laughed at your own pun and he did too.

You slow-run to the exit and the moment you reached the door, you collided with someone and your books fell to the floor.

“Oh I’m sorry I can’t believe I’m so careless at times.” his voice, a sweet sound contrary to his muscular physique.

“No, it’s my mistake actually. I wasn’t looking straight, per usual.” he laughed and colected your books.

“I mean, you didn’t have to.”

“It’s the least I can do for bumbing into you like that. My Hulk self should be a little more careful since I might knock out someone.”

You laughed genuinely after a long time. He noiticed and smiled in satisfaction.

“So, you’re studying Neurology?”

“Ugh? Ah yes I do! It’s very interesting. Some might find it boring but it’s so exciting to learn about the wonder our body, our mind is.”

He was staring at you in awe. Probably thinking of you as a terrible nerd. Judging by his looks, he seemed the gym guy, totally off your valley.

‘I’m sorry. It gets boring for some.”

“No. Not at all. I admire those that are so passionate with what they’re doing. I would just like to add something more to your sentence.”

“...and what’s that?”

“the wonder our body, mind and soul is.”

Normally you’d think of it as lame. Actually it was cheesy but he is a pleasant surprise. It was unfair to judge him based on his looks after all.

“I guess.” you answered semi-sure.

“Now you might excuse me but I gotta go. It was nice talking to you.”

“Bye” you waved cringing at the silly child-like act.

----

The library was surprisingly empty for a uni with so many students. You took advantage and went there to study further for your upcoming exams. Suddenly a voice interrupted your train of thought and you were this close to cursing.

“Hey!” someone shout out in excitment, earning himself agressive shhs from the few students sitting there. He murmured a sorry and came your way. It was the guy that bumbed into you a couple of days before.

“Hey” you answered as quietely as possible.

“So..” he said obviously nervous by his hand movements and red tint on his cheeks.

“I forgot to tell you my name and that was rude, wasn’t it?”

You didn’t answer because it wasn’t rude.

“I’m Hoseok.” he extended his arm for a hand shake.

You felt his pulse rising to dangerous vibrations. He was nervous for sure. Maybe you’re reading into it too much...

“Nice to meet you Hoseok, I’m Y/N.”

“You know I feel sorry to interrupt you but I’d like to offer you a drink, as a way to apologize.”

“You don’t have to! It wasn’t anything disastrous.”

“Is that a no?” he asked with puppy eyes, eager for an answer. You didn’t want to let him down, plus he seemed like a nice guy.

“You know what, let’s go but I’ll pay for my drink.”

“I insist.” you smiled at his stubborness.

----

“So..” Hoseok said while stirring his coffee.

“yees..” you answered looking back at him with curious eyes.

“I was thinking...if you’d like us to grab a snack/drink from time to time.”

You nodded hapily. You wanted a new friend especially when it’s someone as good and funny as Hoseok.

“Ah yes totally! I’d love to be your friend. You’re so funny and all!.” you replied and touch his arm playfully.

Hoseok sighed and his face seemed a bit dissapointed.

“Oh so you view me as a friend?”

“Yes...isn’t that what you wanted too?”

He moved closer and took your hand in his. It was a brave move and even tho his eyes were uncertain, his body language said otherwise.

“I mean, actually dating. You and me, more than friends.” he said and left your hand, letting you to decide on your own.

This came out of nowhere. You weren’t expecting this to be said so fast but here he is, right in front of you, asking. Hoseok had every charateristic a girl would want. Funny,smart and what seems like high levels of testosterone judging by his muscular body and prominant jawline. But, you didn’t know if this was enough. Relationships aren’t for you and you don’t want to take time off your studies. You don’t even have feelings for him in the first place. You don’t have feelings for anyone, they are pointless attempts of nature to make you birth offsprings and save the specie from dissapearing.

He studied your face for any expression that might suggest your answer but there was none. You were lost in those rapid thoughts and didn��t know what to do. When you finally came out of it and saw his pleading expression you shouted out

“YES” you bought your hand in front of your lips to shush yourself.

Hoseok smiled the brighest and most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His eyes were sparkling in hapiness and felt relieved to hear you, his cheeks rosy again. His beauty made you forget, the horror you just said. Did you just said...yes? How can you do such a thing? You don’t even have feelings for him.

You sighed and he noticed.

“Don’t feel pressured. We will take things as slowly as you want them to be.”

Little did he know that wasn’t it.

“Ah thank you Hoseok for being so understanding. Now I gotta go because … I gotta go. See you later.”

“Talk to you later” he said

“Oh and I forgot, can I have your phone you know...”

Typical couple things

«Yes» you said and wrote your number down.

----

“What do I do when we walk side by side?”

You asked Val while holding a notebook in your lap, making small marks to study later.

“Just be natural! Don’t study for a date too”

“How can I be natural? I’ve got no idea what’s up with all this dating thing you guys do like it’s breathing or something. I will watch Netflix series once you’ll leave, those stupid crybaby ones, to find out more.”

“Ugh, okay you hold his hand too? maybe?”

“hold..his..hand..too..” you repeated while writing it down. It’s not that hard after all, unless he takes things further which he said won’t be happening.

“Now you can leave or you can leave because I’ve got very important things to do.”

“Very important aka watching Netflix.”

“Exactly” you nodded while laughing.

“okay I’m not gonna stay any longer either you know...i’m prone to crying.”

“Yes I know plus your PMS makes things even worse, I mean it’s normal you know with all those chemical and hormonal imbal...”

the sudden sound caught you off guard, Val really didn’t seem like the type that wanted to learn. You sighed loudly and moved to the couch. You truly made a mess. You didn’t want to hurt him with saying no, but if you say no now, it’ll hurt him even more. It’d be best if he didn’t have feelings but according to his body language and days he’s been exposed to your pherormones, he is in and deep. It might be beneficial tho, it’s not the most humanatarian idea but you can make the best out of a bad situation. Maybe, if you live through a relationship, you’ll be able to grasp why it means so much to others. An experiment.

It won’t hurt anyone, right?

#monsta x #monsta x imagine #wonho #hoseok #fluff #kpop fluff #kpop imagine

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agent-7-at-your-service · 6 years

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Future Plot: Here Comes the Next Gen (Reboot) - Chapter 2 (Part 1)

(( Celeste, Willow, Veronica, Marcus, Future Robin, and Future Mint belong to @alpinesquid

Telemachus, Justinian, and Future Agent 7 belong to me

Camille belongs to @inklingleesquidly

Nebula belongs to @myzzy and @agenttwo / @nyanamo

Emerald and Sapphire belong to @son-of-joy and @twelvetailedkitsune ))

Celeste

“Go, Celeste!” Willow was cheering her best friend on in a football -- or soccer – match.

This is supposed to be Celeste’s final match before she moves on to other hobbies like weapons modding and movie marathons. Celeste had no regretting participating in this port, and it was a great experience for her.

The ball is passed to Celeste, she brought the ball to the opposition’s goal, and she had one shot to get another score for her team.

Kick!

The ball was sent flying into the goal, and it was so fast that the goalie wasn’t able to reach and hit it away. The game finally ended. Celeste’s team won.

That weekend…

It was movie night. Her parents, Robin and Mint were allowing her to set one up for the first time along with a slumber party, and they were going to assist. Celeste invited some close friends to this special event at her place: Willow, Veronica, Marcus, Camille, and Nebula. And there were some new faces she wanted to invite: Telemachus and his aforementioned friend from Alexandria District. And to make things interesting, Nebula and Camille invited friends of theirs. Celeste made sure they brought sleeping bags and clothes for the night.

At the moment, Robin and Mint were helping make the popcorn and drinks. The green and red inkling Veronica and the yellow and pink inkling Marcus were already sitting comfortably in the living room where the movie night was going to be. Willow and Nebula were hanging out on the apartment balcony.

A doorbell rang and Camille immediately ran over to open it. “That must be them.” She opened the door. “Emmy! Sapphy! You made it!”

Emerald and Sapphy are sisters. Both girls are dark-skinned with Humboldt squid eyes, but they were each different. Emerald has reddish pink eyes and green ink-hair, and she wore a simply sailor shirt, a pair of school shoes, and Octoglasses. Sapphire has green eyes and blue ink-hair, and she wears a long-sleeved forest green hoodie, a pair of octoling boots, and a unique bobble hat.

“We came as soon as we can,” Sapphire replied with an innocent smile.

“So this is where the movie night’s going to be?” Emerald asked.

“Well yeah—“ Camille is interrupted by Celeste.

“Hey there, welcome to movie night! Come right in!” Celeste welcomed.

As Emerald and Sapphire entered, Telemachus and his friend arrived. Camille noticed them arrive and responded with a cringe and later a forced smile. Telemachus noticed and sighed before giving a forced smile as well.

“Telemachus, I’m glad to see you.” Celeste then noticed his friend. “And this must be your friend?”

“Hello, Camille. Hello, Celeste.” Telemachus then introduced his friend. “This is Justinian Euphemia, Agent 7’s protégée—“

“Uhhh…. Telemachus, I don’t think they need to know me as that.” Justinian scratched the back of his head, sheepishly.

Justinian is a unique inkling, likely of European origin. He had fair light and brick red ink-hair. He wore this brown trench coat over a yellow button shirt, beige shorts, and red sneakers. The attire came along with a blue badge and a red scarf.

Justinian actually recognizes Camille as one of the Neo-Squid Sisters. “Wait, Camille is here? Then that means…..” He began to blush.

“Yeah, yeah, my cousin’s here.” Camille has arms were crossed, and she gave Justinian and smirk. “Telemachus kind of mentioned that you have a crush on Nebby.”

“So what kind of movie are we going to expect this movie night?” Telemachus politely asked.

“There were a lot of films I wanted to try, but I think you guys would love this one.” Celeste had the disc-case.

Celeste had Telemachus and Justinian come into the apartment so that the movie night can begin. She hopes this film she chose would be a movie that everyone can enjoy tonight. Everyone gathered in the living room, Robin and Mint finished making the popcorn (and kettle corn) and drinks, and the movies disk is inserted into the television’s movie player.

Justinian tried to sit as close to Nebula as possible while Telemachus tried to sit between Camille and Celeste. Celeste sat beside Willow, Veronica, and Marcus, holding one of the bowls of popcorn. Camille and Nebula were sitting with Sapphire and Emerald with Sapphire holding onto the bowl of kettle corn. Robin and Mint decided to join the movie night, sitting with their daughter.

The event ended with Celeste taking a selfie of herself with everyone.

Celeste was hanging out with Camille and Nebula in the cafeteria. Camille was still not into the fact that Agent 7 is both the biology teacher, language arts teacher, and social studies teacher. Nebula didn’t mind it, and Celeste was happy to have Agent 7 has her teacher.

Last week, Camille was requested by Agent 7 to stay after school to discuss something. Celeste and Nebula sort of wondered if she was in trouble or if Agent 7 offered something.

“So, what happened last week,” Celeste began, “Agent 7 asked you to stay in the biology class for a while. What’s up with that?”

“He was offering some program in this district of his.” Camille was eating a grilled sandwich. “I told him I was considering.”

“Have you made your decision?” Nebula seemed interested in what the program is.

“It’s either give up my Winter Break or no get into the automotive tech class,” Camille replied, indicating she’s still deciding.

“The program is for an automotive tech class?” Celeste questioned.

“No, that isn’t the program,” Camille explained, “Seven offered me a program that can get me into my automotive tech class, and all I need to do is do some training.”

“Training for what?” Nebula questioned.

“How should I know?” Camille started finishing her lunch. She had a soda pop in hand. “He never really explained it other than that is for ‘kids like you’ or whatever.”

“Kids like us?” Celeste raised an eyebrow. “That’s some weird program he’s offering.”

“You know what; maybe Celeste and I should talk to Agent 7 about this. I’ll go see him at the end of school just like you--” Nebula knows something is up.

“Way ahead of you, I’ll go talk to him right now!” Celeste gets up and runs off, eating her lunch while on the way to see Agent 7.

“Hey, Celeste, hold on for sec!” Nebula didn’t have that in mind. She sighed in frustration when Celeste already left. “Oh, there she goes.” Celeste sighs and shakes her head.

Celeste was eager to talk with Agent 7. She made her way from the cafeteria all the way to the teacher’s lounge. The teachers know she isn’t supposed to trespass here, but Agent 7 was able to give Celeste his protection before they can act.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle this. There’s no need for someone to be in detention. Miss, come with me.” Agent 7 approached Celeste and then escorted her outside the teacher’s lounge. “Celeste, you know you shouldn’t just come into the lounge in like that. “

“I’m sorry.” Celeste bowed a bit. “I was looking for you in there because I want to talk to you!”

“You must be Robin’s daughter.” Agent 7 can tell from the eyes. “You have her starry eyes.”

“Well… of course I do!” Celeste salutes, taking the compliment. “My name is Celeste Anne Weever, at your service, Agent 7.”

“That’s my line.” Agent 7 laughed a bit. “Were you looking for me in that lounge?”

“Y-yeah! I wanted to talk about the offer you gave to Camille!” Celeste began out loud.

“Whoa, keep it down.” Agent 7 expected this to happen. “First off, does anyone else know about the offer? Did anyone find out?”

“Just me and Nebula, no one else,” Celeste replied.

Agent 7 sighed and shook his head. He took off his flat cap and wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead. He puts it back on and adjusted his bowtie.

“Well then, I will allow you to sign up as well,” Agent 7 warned. “There will be an interview for my program on the winter solstice. I think I forgot to tell Camille that.”

“I’ll tell her then!” Celeste then runs off again, thinking that asking Agent 7 about the program was too easy. “Thank for the chit-chat, Agent 7!”

Celeste and Telemachus were hanging out more often ever since they met at Arowana Mall. Sometimes Willow and Camille would tag along with them, but it was it was Celeste and Telemachus alone most of the time.

Today, Telemachus wanted to show Celeste something special: The Alexandria District. He wanted to reveal something about his Agent status to Celeste. There was a reason he was named Neo-Agent 3, and there was more than just training and missions that brought him up the ranks of an Agent.

They arrive at the place on a jeep. Alexandria District was like a city of it own, but it was like a military base, a university, a cultural center, a museum, an arboretum, a science facility, and a mall all mix together into this massive institute.

It was like nothing that Celeste has imagined. She was in awe.

“We won’t be taking a tour around this place… We’ll be going somewhere more… private.” Telemachus hold Celeste’s hand and took her into the district.

Celeste wanted to see everything, but she sighed and allowed Telemachus to take her to wherever this private place was. And that private place turns out to be an apartment complex in a dormitory near a school he attends called “Tenjin Academy”. It was specifically built for him by his request to Agent 7.

Next to the apartment door, there were three nameplates: Telemachus Ogygia, Sandra Syer, and Angela Ramosel. Inside, the place was fully furnished and well-decorated to give off this warm feeling. It felt more like a maisonette rather than an apartment. There were a living room and kitchen on the first floor and the bedroom on the second floor. The bedroom was sparsely decorated and has three beds. He had a full view of the arboretum from a large window.

“Wow, Agent 7 actually spent a lot to time and cash for this place?” Celeste was in awe at how the apartment is designed. “It’s like I’m in one of those apartments from that magical girl anime.”

“The one with the soul gems and the witches?” Telemachus look at her quickly, sounding interested.

“Yeah!” Celeste grinned.

“Oh….. Uhm…” Telemachus returned to being calm. “To answer your question, yes, Agent 7 paid for this apartment.”

Telemachus made sure to take off his shoes and put them in a shoe rack before entering. Celeste did the same. Celeste wondered about the nameplates, Sandra and Angela, assuming they’re living with him. She decided to talk to him about that during lunch; Telemachus offers her some tea, cheesecake, and fruits.

They had a small chat about their week. Then Celeste asked about

“So, who are Sandra and Angela?” Celeste began.

Telemachus is aware of those nameplates. “Oh, those nameplates were installed in advance. They’re exchange students that are coming in about six months.

“Oh, so they aren’t here?” Celeste took a sip of her tea.

“Not yet,” Telemachus confirmed. He cut a small piece from his cheesecake slice with a fork and ate it. “Anyway, I should tell you something. It’s a confession about my Agent status.”

“A confession?” Celeste gave Telemachus a confused look.

“So, you know how I’m called Neo-Agent 3?” Telemachus took another small piece from her cheesecake slice. “Have you ever wondered how I was able to earn that title and Agent status?”

Celeste nods eagerly, thinking that he’ll reply with some Agent wisdom. Telemachus shook his head in disappointment, frowning at her eagerness. Celeste stopped grinning.

Telemachus then told a story:

“Before my arrival in Inkopolis, I was living with my mom on the islands of Iwo Jima. My mother was a leader of an Organization that once had eyes on Inkopolis, but they were always stopped by this one Inkling, Agent 7.”

Telemachus took a sip of his tea before continuing.

“One day, my mother told me who my father and she sent me off to live with him in Inkopolis. I ended up living with him in the Alexandria District, and I tried to follow in his footsteps. He was surprised to have a son but wasn’t surprised by who my mother was. And from that day, we got along to an extent.”

Telemachus tears up a bit, looking down with a slight glare.

“And it was from that day I was put through some quick training as an Agent. I didn’t like it, but I did it for my father. When the training was over, I was honored to carry on the legacy of Agent 3, devoting to doing what they did all those years ago.”

Celeste could believe what she’s hearing. At first, it was all confusing, but she slowly put all of this together and realized something about Telemachus. “So... the reason you’re Neo-Agent 3 is that…?”

Telemachus looked at her with a calm teary face. He nods. “My father is Agent 7. And my mother is his old arch-enemy, Calypso. And I only became an Agent because of my father and because of favoritism. That is my secret.”

Celeste found this polarizing. How Telemachus became Neo-Agent 3 sounded wrong, but she tells that he’s feeling pain from bringing up such a past. A secret is a secret to Celeste, and she knows what to say.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Celeste tried to cheer him up. “You’re secret is safe with me.”

Telemachus smiled slightly.

To Be Continued...

#Future Arc Reboot #Plot #Here Comes the Next Gen

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peppusae · 7 years

Text

(so) far away; myg

pre-note; hello, this is een and this oneshot is going to be the very first one i upload on tumblr !! for all of you that wants a touch of angst in their lives, here you go. ♥

also! i really love cactus boy so i wanted to dedicate this oneshot to @sau-na for writing such an amazing au soBS ♥ please notice my love for you-//slapped

(so) far away; min yoongi x reader

genre; angst, soulmate au.

word count; 5640.

recommended list of songs to listen to while reading; (bts) spring day, (bts)just one day, (bts) first love, (vhope) hug me, (bts) goyeob, (bts) wishing on a star, & (agust d ft. suran) so far away. trust me, these songs will make your reading experience at least 3 times better. :’)

note; the ones in italics and in big quotation marks (blockquoted) are lines of the letter c:

💫

❝add a 'so' before you say 'far away'. it hurts less.❞

(so) far away; myg

❝dear yoongi-oppa,❞

there's a three-page long letter in his clutches, he's leaning against his bedpost while he sips a bit of his slurpee.

fan letters.

yoongi remembers when he received his first fan letter. how he was in tears to see the amount of support he'd been unknowingly receiving, and he was thankful. and now, he feels guilty that there's a huge stack of thousands of letters he'd never gotten the chance to read.

❝i love you. ❞

he's heard of this phrase millions of times. in multiple languages, and one thing was common each time; he can feel that his fans sincerely mean it, and it makes him happy. even if he didn't think it was really necessary to show it; he really did.

❝and i know that i'm one amongst the many hundreds of people who've said this to you. ❞

yoongi feels like the girl who's written this had read his mind, and he takes another sip of his slurpee before glancing back at the paper.

❝the first time i met you was back in 2008,❞

he instantly cringes. high school days. he's wondering who the letter was from, and there's no return address or even a name written on it. eyebrows furrowed, he glances back at the hangul written on the sheet of paper.

❝we sat beside each other during language classes.❞

yoongi's face scrunches even further while he tries to recall something... anything. but he's seen so many faces, who can blame him for forgetting one?

❝we barely said two words to each other. the occasional greetings, the usual 'i forgot to bring my textbook, can we share, please?' was the only way we interacted. but that was okay, because...

we never liked people much anyways.

there was one time when we were queuing up for the cafeteria line. you went to buy a sandwich, because the boy who sat behind you had let you know that they were serving lamb-meat that day.❞

suddenly, yoongi feels hungry. it's almost 9pm, and he and hoseok had made a deal to not eat after then, so he simply takes another sip of his drink in silence.

❝the girl in front of me pushed me away and went ahead. you were behind me, and you spoke up.

she got her way, in the end, but i was glad you stuck up for me.

'just because you're frail doesn't mean she can treat you like that. i know how you feel, because i'm frail too,' you had said with a little chuckle, when i asked you why you did that, a few days later.

god, i love you so much.❞

there's a tightening feeling inside his chest while yoongi coughs, he can feel the fizz of his drink rush to his nose, and he has to put away the letter for a second while he takes a tissue from the bedside table. seokjin, who's laying on the bed beside his own, looks up from his phone and glances at him with a hint of worry in his eyes.

"i'm fine, quit staring." yoongi says, and seokjin smiles. he's always brutal with words, it's starting to become funny now.

yoongi takes a few minutes to compose himself because he's slowly starting to remember exactly who it was, that sent him the letter. and his chest was hurting because if there was one person he wishes, didn't love him, it was the one who wrote the letter.

❝i'm not sure if you knew this, but i'm not korean.

i wish i was. i really did. but i wasn't, and i didn't start studying hangul until before my first year at high school.

i knew a little bit of the basics, but never enough to socially interact much. maybe that was why i didn't have many friends. and you were the opposite, you knew, you knew it well, and you chose to stay away from people. ❞

she knew him well, yoongi never doubted that anyways, and now he's smiling a little.anyways, and now he's smiling a little.

❝sometimes, when i walk to the cafeteria during lunch, i'd walk around...

and i'd find you sitting alone in the disbanded music club room, you'd be deeply focused and writing on that thick notebook you carried in your bag wherever you went. was that why you kept your textbooks at home?

and then... you'd rap. you'd sing. you'd tap the wooden tables, try and fail at beatboxing, and you never, ever took off your headphones.❞

there's a lot of memories rushing to yoongi's head, and he feels a little nostalgic, unsure if he should be happy that he'd passed all that and was now living the life he wanted... or sad because he wasn't ready to read what else was written.

❝look at you now. all grown up and making your parents proud. making your friends proud. making daegu proud to have been the birthplace of someone so beautiful and so lovely, like you.

and most importantly,

making yourself proud.❞

it wasn't fair. yoongi knew she was good with words, from the classes he shared with her, but... she wasn't supposed to make him this emotional.

❝remember when there was a cultural festival in year two?

i was in charge of writing the greeting on the banner.

i started studying hangul to be able to read and understand the scribbles and rough writings you'd make on the music club chalkboard... so i wasn't the best person for the task.

and i screwed up. you were my partner in language class, and that's why you were the one who saw it first.

'you fucked up, big time.' you had said, laughing. i'm pretty sure you didn't know that i'm not actually korean, so i didn't blame you.❞

suddenly, yoongi wants to die.

❝you said that, but you brought a spare banner you'd found from hanging around in the music club room. i thanked you for saving my sorry ass, and all you did was nod.

it made me realize that even though you act like you don't care, you sincerely do.

maybe act isn't the word. maybe that's just how you are, and you really don't need to change yourself, because it's perfectly fine.

now that i think back, you've done a lot of little things like that which you may or may not remember, but means everything to me.❞

'geez, this girl', yoongi thinks, shaking his head. there's still two more pages to go, now-familiar handwriting written on both sides. if this was his state at the very first page, staying here would not be a good thing for seokjin to see.

❝do you know of the soulmate theory?❞

"hyung, i'm going out for a walk."

"okay, be safe. remember to take the- oh." okay, be safe. remember to take the- oh." seokjin pauses when he sees yoongi picking up his face mask and beanie before taking quick steps out. "stay safe."

❝you know where i'm getting at, right?❞

damn right he did.

❝you and your soulmate share a mark on the wrist which may appear at the randomest of times...

and if your soulmate does not love you back over a certain period of time...❞

"you suffer from a fatal illness," yoongi completes, slipping down onto the first bench he sees. he doesn't need to read the next line to know it, he knew it well enough.

❝and i just... shit, i love you so much.❞

panic floods to his head, and he feels his hands trembling a little as he tries to read the rest of the letter under the dimly lit city lights.

❝i miss daegu.

it's where we've both been living for the early days of our youth... and now we're both here in seoul. you'll stay here for a while, but i'll be leaving this city a few days after i send you this.❞

there's no date on the letter either, and at this point, more than sad, yoongi feels angry.

❝doesn't it make you pissed that only you can see your soulmate mark?

that you have no idea who your soulmate is, and when the mark would appear, you don't know how long you have before your time limit gets reached?❞

"of course it does, are you insane?" yoongi mutters to himself. "it's obvious."

❝i think the average time limit is for six months. most of my friends had half a year or so, and so did i. ❞

"did?" yoongi breathes out, his attention going to a mustang that passes by, honking continuously even though there was no traffic at all. he wishes he had the power to go punch whoever it was, but he's too lazy to bother.

❝remember valentine's day, when you received chocolates from literally everyone? they were all giving you chocolates because they liked you too, but you rejected them because you didn't want to 'waste money' on someone you were not interested in, later on white day.

you made them feel forced to say they were obligatory chocolates, and i remember the smug smile on your face.

you're a little jerk, you know that, don't you?❞

yoongi relaxes a little, a small smirk forming on his face as he flips the page. he knew that well, too.

❝i gave you some as well. remember, red velvet cupcakes?

i told you they were obligatory chocolates, before you could even open your mouth.

... and then, you chomped the entire thing in one go.❞

yoongi sighs, a hand adjusting his beanie a little, neck craning back as he looks up at the sky. there's not a single star in the sky, and for once, he feels a little lonely, just like how the sky would probably be feeling right about then.

he then makes a face, because that was a horrible analogy. this is why he should focus on music, instead.

❝they weren't obligatory. but i didn't want you to feel forced to give me a present.

and the above line is a lie too.

the truth is that i didn't want to hear you reject what i made for you.

...shit, i love you so much.❞

yoongi feels his heart clenching each time he saw that written so neatly and yet, the more it gets repeated, the more uncomfortable he felt.

he sincerely wishes that she didn't.

for her sake, and for his own.

why didn't she write that that line was a lie, as well?

❝we were 17 when we graduated high school. you were ready to begin training; you'd been struggling with your family for days regarding that... and they finally let in, they finally allowed you to, and you...

you looked the happiest on graduation, while i was the saddest that day.❞

a small pout forms on his face at that, he clearly remembered how excited he was to be allowed to join. he remembers how he had struggled with the travelling, food expenses, and excessive work... he'd had to have two part-time jobs to make ends meet, barely being able to pass by.

it was...

❝painful.

it was painful, to see you suffer.❞

his hands are trembling again, and he wishes he'd brought a coat along with him, because suddenly, it begins to feel very cold again.

❝while attending college, i worked part time at your favorite noodle restaurant.

everyday, after finishing your training, i'd see you enter.

you always ordered the same two flavors❞

yoongi decides to blame how cold he feels, on the drink he'd had earlier. taking deep breaths, he continues.

❝one was twice the price of the other.

and the day you bought the cheaper one, you'd take the train back home.

and on the other days, you'd walk the entire way back.

i later found out that it was because you were struggling with expenses...

and look at you now.❞

"i never thought i'd make it, either." he breathes out, his eyes wavering a little as he flips to the next page. he notices the handwriting getting sloppier, realizing that she probably wrote the entire thing in one go.

❝i used to bring you the bowls of noodles every day.

you always had your face buried in your phone, where you switched to write your lyrics.

maybe that book you carried around before was becoming too hard to take everywhere?

i didn't know how i could say hello to you...

or how i would deal if you didn't remember me anymore.❞

yoongi remembers. he earnestly remembers, he even remembers when-

❝remember how i went to the fanmeet near the end of last year?

that was the fanmeet when you excused yourself for five minutes, in between.❞

there was only one fanmeet where he left just like that, in the past four years, so he remembers extremely well what happened.

which was why he isn't sure if he wants to read the rest. he could almost exactly picture where she was going at, yoongi doesn't feel ready to read the rest.

❝shit. i love you so much.❞

folding the letter three times, he stands up, heading back to the building. seokjin has fallen asleep by then, and yoongi puts the letter in his desk cabinet and closes it quietly. his head is full of multiple thoughts while he lays on his bed.

... and he's tossing and turning around but he can't get himself to fall asleep. after forty minutes of his unsuccessful attempt, he groans, getting off and throwing his quilt to one side. a small part of him is dying to know what else she had to say, but at the same time...

"fuck." he's cursing when he takes the letter back out, this time opening the balcony door quietly to make sure he doesn't wake seokjin up. the wind is blowing softly against his skin, and yoongi closes his eyes while he sighs, leaning against the wall of the balcony before he sits down and closes the sliding door.

❝it was so, so funny. sad, but funny.

i finally got to meet you as a fan, and look how fate ruined everything.

i could have just passed by like every other fan, but i had to make a huge fuss.❞

"you didn't make a fuss, shut the fuck up." he hisses, and he feels a little out of place, to curse while sitting all by himself.

❝you know what happened, right?❞

he did.

❝well, at least for me. i wanted to cry. because it was the worst time for my soulmate mark to appear.

while being seated right in front of you, while i had requested to for you to hold my hand.❞

yoongi wants to cry.

❝and just as fast as you reached your hand out and obliged to make a fellow army happy,

you took your hand away.

did your wrist feel like it was burning?❞

"so much, i even had tears in my eyes." he exhales, lips pursed a little as he tries to envision the scene in his head once again, the familiar face appearing into his head and making him feel hollow inside.

❝i wanted to cry.

not just because it was so painful...

but because if there was one person in the world i wish wasn't my soulmate, it was you.❞

"i wish that too..."

❝but you were, and i remember your widened eyes before i ran outside.

i even forgot to give you the present i saved up to get for you.

you're so stupid. how do you love slam dunk as much as you do and never remember to get a figurine for yourself?❞

yoongi doesn't just want to cry, now. he wanted to punch something, to break something as hard as the way he feels his heart breaking.

"so you were the one who sent me that figurine? well, good for you, because it sits proudly on my bedside table." he says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve a little.

❝thank you.

thank you for your amazing mixtape.

i can't really say i relate to how you felt, because i didn't suffer from the serious kinds of depressions and social anxiety as you did.

but do you know how horrible it feels to always be sad?

and you're aware that it's not depression, so there's nothing you can even blame it on...

besides yourself?❞

yoongi's head reels, his mind arranging words mentally because he was sure it would sound amazing in a rap. he feels horrible for thinking that.

❝you can't understand. because you didn't feel that.

and it's fine.❞

"it's not fine, shut up."

❝ahaha. my soulmate is a celebrity. there's a limit to how twisted fate can be...

shit.

i love you.❞

yoongi hasn't felt this emotional in a long while, and he puts the letter aside again, lying back on the concrete and covering his face with a hand. there's the sound of a firetruck passing by, and he slowly breathes out before he takes the last sheet out again.

❝we never really talked, anyways.❞

"and that's why i could tolerate you, unlike most others. you really need to give more credit to yourself." yoongi swears that when he'd find out where she was at and make a visit to her personally, the next chance where he gets to go back to daegu.

he's making plans as he slowly drifts off to sleep, sheet of paper still over his face. the next morning, seokjin is amused and takes pictures of him before waking yoongi up. he feels groggy, a little crabby even, heading straight for breakfast after tossing the letter back into his drawer and locking it.

after breakfast, yoongi makes a request to his producer to plan an emergency visit back to daegu. not going into details, he adds that he'd like to meet his parents as well, and bang pd-nim lets him know that he'd see what he can do.

and that's why yoongi holds onto everything he got to make sure he does not read the rest of the letter before he makes his visit.

it's three weeks later before he finally gets a weekend off.

usually, he'd just be lying on bed doing nothing, or writing some lyrics, so he has an irritated expression on his face when he climbs into the car along with the maknae line.

initially, it was only supposed to be the daegu-line; just him and taehyung, going back home, but the two 'busan-born idiots', as yoongi has decided to name them, had brainwashed the younger daegu boy into getting them to join as well.

yoongi is already tired by the time the car begins to start.

❝sometimes when i see lamb meat in stores, i'd impulsively go and buy them.

i'd ask my mum to make it for me, because i'm not good at cooking.❞

"i bet i can make a better dish than your mom can."

"hyung? did you say something?" jungkook, who's driving the car, has to say and yoongi shakes his head. jimin and taehyung have their eyes glued to their phones, and jungkook gives a little nod before he turns on his bluetooth speaker.

yoongi plugs his own earphones and starts to play some music.

❝but i'm not allowed to eat meat anymore.❞

he freezes. maybe reading this on the ride was not a good idea.

instead, he puts the letter back into his backpack, taking his phone out.

what he was about to do would be illegal, he was aware, but he feels like he has to do it. 'otherwise, i'd go insane', that's what he had decided for himself.

and just as he guessed, it's jimin who finds out and begins scolding him.

when jungkook and taehyung step out to buy snacks, jimin pokes yoongi's shoulder with a glare.

"hyung! why would you do that?!" he cries, finding out that yoongi had bribed a fanmeet manager.

"i'm going to meet a friend i haven't seen in a long time," he innocently shrugs. "so i have to find out her army membership details to get her address and contact number."

jimin looks ready to slap something, his head shaking in fast motions.

"that's illegal! there would have been other ways-"

"there isn't, trust me, i tried."

"then don't do it! if it's illegal, it's always wrong!" jimin loses it, punching the back of yoongi's seat in frustration. jungkook and taehyung step inside right then, and jimin's lips stay as a thin line for a while, before the maknae begins to crack stupid jokes.

❝oh, god. i love you.❞

two hours later, the boys arrive in daegu, an excited taehyung taking his two friends to visit his parents. the young trio agree to meet yoongi on sunday evening to head back, and yoongi takes a cab to the address he had received.

two hours later.

two hours later was when yoongi finds out a lot of things.

two hours later, he's standing in front of a classic two-storey house, there's potted plants around the porch and yoongi hesitates a little when he presses the bell. he's about to press it for the third time when a woman who looks like she's in her mid-fourties, opens the door.

"um, hello." yoongi gives a small bow, "i'm here to see if it's fine for me to meet my friend." he explains. locks of the woman's graying hair sway a little when she flinches as soon as he mentions her name.

"you want to meet her?"

"yes."

the woman nods, opening the door a little and yoongi obliges, taking off his shoes before he steps inside. she leads him into the living room where he is offered a seat, and she excuses herself for a minute and steps into a room at one corner.

yoongi is expecting to see the girl when the door opens with a loud creak again, but it's the same woman, a thick book in her hand while she takes a seat in front of him.

"let me give you her address." she says, tearing a sheet of paper and scribbling something on it. yoongi gives a nod, trying not to show the disappointment on his face for having to travel yet again. 'it'll be worth it,' he tells himself, and he thanks the woman, who bows a little, to him before seeing him off.

❝college is as hectic as ever. can you actually believe that i'm studying language?

and i still struggle with hangul.❞

"no wonder you always submitted your worksheets late. i always thought you were just plain stupid." yoongi has a little smirk on his face as he hands the paper to the driver and requests to be taken there.

it's not even three minutes before the cab stops, and yoongi raises an eyebrow in surprise. "what? we're here already?"

"yes, sir." the driver responds, taking the cab fare he hands. yoongi thanks him, picking his carry-on and opening the door.

"i think they close in an hour, just a reminder." the driver hands the paper back to him, and there's a perplexed expression on yoongi's face when he scrunches his nose a little. shrugging, he hops off, putting his face mask back on before he looks up.

and he's horrified.

he's horrified, because the first thing that catches his eye is the word 'cemetery'.

"what the fuck." his eyes fly to the note in his hand, and there's beads of sweat on his forehead when he sees block and row numbers, and instructions.

he lowers his bag, his chest throbbing while he tried to look from the note, to the sign on the front. and no matter how many times he looked, it remains the same and he wants to die.

bag still left unguarded, he breaks into a run, back to the address he's received from the fanmeet manager. he's breathless when the woman from earlier opens the door, and he makes no attempt to hide how he's feeling.

"that's a very horrible way of breaking the news to me." he's blunt, he's a little angry even, and the woman looks down at her feet, and there's a sad smile on her face as she speaks.

"the way she died was horrible too."

yoongi's lips are trembling again.

"and the worst part is that i can't even blame you. it's not your fault, it's not her fault, there's nothing i can blame this on... doing this was the only thing i could do and get away with it." the girl's mother now has tears streaming down from her eyes, and yoongi wants to blame her for his blurring vision.

he wants something to blame, anything... but she was right, there wasn't.

"which disease?" he's afraid of the answer, but he realizes that he needs to know, otherwise he'd go insane.

there's a pause, and the woman sighs, her eyes going doiwn to the floor as she simply says one word; one word that ruined everything for her, and yoongi both.

"hypoglycemia."

he's taking a few minutes to think through, and the woman looks at him, the way his lips are trembling.

"are you going to go back to visit her again?" she asks, and yoongi struggles to compose himself while he wipes his face with the back of his palm. he nods, bowing a little before he turns and walks back out. he feels hollow as he gets back on the road, it's actually quite close by to the address, and for once...

jimin was right.

if something is illegal, then it's wrong. and there's a part of yoongi who wishes he didn't bribe the manager, because jimin was exactly right about how illegal things are illegal for a reason.

never. he would never do anything illegal, he swears.

yoongi feels a little tensed as he steps inside, walking aimlessly till he reaches the information counter. he feels his heart burning as he mumbles her name to the security officer. the man, who doesn't look phased by the tears streaming down yoongi's face, leads him inside, and there's a lot of walking before they stop in front of a tombstone.

and there's a lot of those tombs, exactly like the one in front of him, but yoongi swears that her one was the prettiest. maybe that was because it has her name on it, but he really wishes there wasn't.

but it was, hangul characters engraved deep into the stone and yoongi realises that the way it's carved is no match for the way his heart was feeling at that moment. the guard leaves with a reminder than the place will be off limits in thirty-five minutes, and yoongi isn't paying much attention while he puts his carry-on on the soil and sitting down on it.

"i should have gotten some flowers."

❝i wish i got more time.❞

"i wish you did, too."

❝but then, i realize that i've known you for all these years... and nothing changed.

so me having more time would probably have been a waste.❞

yoongi's sneakers sink a little into the soil as he pauses for a second, making circles while he bites his bottom lip. there's no one around, and that's all the more reason why he wants to cry.

❝my favorite track from agust d's 1st mixtape is the very last one.❞

the 24-year-old sighs, mumbling the lyrics of the song under his breath. his gaze goes back to the stone and the soil in front of it. his voice is cracking, but he's singing and he knows he'd look like a fool.

❝everything is changing, but why am i still here?❞

"because you're important, you idiot."

❝and you didn't even lie.

you really are there for me.❞

"what the fuck, i wasn't..."

❝you asked me, and every single one listening to it, to dream...

that you'd be there for us.❞

his eyes are starting to hurt now as he breathes out and stops singing. "i wasn't there for you."

❝you were far away from me, maybe that's why you weren't physically able to do anything.

you have other things to do, so it's fine.❞

"you," yoongi hisses, "have something wrong with your head."

❝shit.

i love you, so much.❞

"i wish you didn't... i wish i loved you before it was too late."

❝thank you.

for being a moral support for me.

for giving me something i can obsess over, like a crazed college-girl; you.

i got away with telling people i love you, because in their eyes, you're suga. the 'agust d'. so loving you was normal.

but in my eyes, you're the poor boy from daegu who would take two steps to the side when a girl starts to pass by you.❞

a little smile forms on his face, he didn't think anyone noticed how awkward he'd been back then. "why are you like this?"

❝the boy who would wait until the basketball club students finishes their practice, so that he coul sneak into the gym and play by himself.

the boy who would leave half of his vegetables untouched but eat all the meat.

the boy who tried with all he had, worked his ass off, and still manage to stay as humble as you are while you've managed to get everything you wanted.

god.

i wanted to tell you that i love you, during the fanmeet.❞

"why didn't you?"

❝i had to leave in between...

and even if i did, you'd have said 'i love you too',

just like you do to every fan you meet.❞

for once, yoongi doesn't have anything to say, and he simply sits, the clear sky looks beautiful with puffy white clouds scattered all over the canvas... and yet, he's sure that his eyes would be puffier then, and it's hurting not just his eyes, but his heart, so much that it's unbearable.

❝i couldn't look you in the eyes after finding out that you're my soulmate.

because for all those years...

all that time i spent secretly being in love you felt like a waste.❞

"i'm so sorry..."

❝but it's not a waste, it's just... life, i guess? some people just get all the luck.

but i would never regret falling in love with you.

it's the only thing i did which i will never regret.❞

"you're so difficult, jeez." he mumbles, biting his lip a little as he flips the page to the other side. the final side, and he'd rather die than read what was written.

❝god...

i hate myself.

i'm such a hypocrite. i say i don't regret it, but i wish i didn't fall in love with you.

especially after you became an idol.

i really, really wished i didn't, after that.

and i totally blew it in the fanmeet, too.

that was the last time i was allowed to go out alone.❞

yoongi's head reels back to the day, when he had met her for the last time, where she had her hair neatly combed, paired with a bright smile as soon as they locked eyes.

and she had asked to hold his hand, and yoongi had done as requested...

❝we never really talked much anyways.❞

and they didn't. yoongi had found it weird that the girl wasn't doing any talking, because she simply sat, staring up at him with a smile on her face. and he had smiled back, squeezing her hand a little until he felt his wrist burning.

but his wrist was not burning; his soulmate mark was etching.

❝our soulmate mark appeared at the same time, just how cruel can life be?❞

and yoongi had let go of her hand with a little grunt, and the girl lost her balance, falling to the ground as her gaze went to her wrist.

❝when we both looked at our own wrists... and then saw each others, we were sure that we soulmates.

but both you and i...

we didn't want this to happen.❞

and now, yoongi has his face scrunched up as he cried, a fist clenching and hitting the soil as he tries to let out how frustrated he feels.

❝but for one thing, i'm glad i do love you...

what if your soulmate was someone, who didn't love you back?❞

"why are you bothering about my health at a time like this, i swear to god." he breathes heavily, noticing a small bug on the soil. he feels defensive as he flicks the bug away before he wipes his face with the sleeve of shirt.

❝... god, i love you, min yoongi.❞

there's a person who's voice announces that there's five more minutes before closing time. yoongi really, really hates outdoors, but he promises to himself that he'll visit this place every single time he got to daegu.

❝add a 'so' before you say 'far away'.

it hurts less.❞

"it still hurts me, how do you expect me to go through with this?"

❝because then, you can blame it on the distance.

back in high school, i was right beside you.

but it always felt like i was really far away from you.❞

yoongi stands up, taking a fresh piece of paper from his carry-on. fishing around for a while gets him a pen, and he balances the paper on his thigh while he starts writing hangul characters.

❝shit, i love you so much. ❞

yoongi has a satisfied expression as he nods at the piece of paper multiple times. getting up on his feet and brushing off his pants a little, he bends down and places the paper right beside the tombstone.

❝ and despite everything, i have no regrets. ❞

"next time, i'll bring you some flowers. a lot of them. i promise you that." he says, taking a bit of soil and putting it over his note, making sure it doesn't fly away.

❝ and i'll be your number one fan forever, your biggest fan even from before you became famous.

a fan who's always...

(so) far away.❞

"and i'll love you forever, even though you're (so) far away."

the end.

💫

"삶의 끝에 함께 하리"

"let's be together at the end of life."

- hmu on twt; @peppusae ;”)

#min yoongi #yoongi #suga #agust d #suga angst #bts #bts angst #oneshot #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #min yoongi angst #yoongi angst #angst #kpop angst #soulmate au

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lighthouseofthewanderess · 5 years

Text

Chameleon

A guide to being invisible. The body is a wonderful thing. It adapts so well provided it is given the right signals, from the mind. In that sense, the mind is the ultimate mastermind. It can trick you to believing things are crumbling, just like a Marie dipped in tea for too long. It can also coax you to keep pushing yourself when all the red flags are in front of you. But as long as you’ve trained the mind to do the latter, you’re going to be a great chameleon. Maybe not always, but enough number of times to get by. And that’s why I was a swinging pendulum and chameleon for the larger part of my young life. A 4 ft bench shared by 7 little girls to a desk all for my own. Population is the first thing that struck me. I was just one dot in the school assembly, a dust bunny on the game field. But now, I was one among 20 in the class and there was no escaping my presence. Even in the busiest of places like the cafeteria or the corridor. The number of cars on the road, the free umbrellas at a cafe. America’s population allowed for everyone to lead an above-average life. And to blend in, I had to believe I was entitled to the same amount of attention and privileges. The upper hand had to be mine. That’s why I forced myself to pick up English as soon as I can. To pick my colors carefully. To roll my Rs and to scream for fries. Congratulations, you’re now one among them. Welcome back to India. That period of a year was just pure confusion. A huge population where even the air around me felt like it was being eaten up by other people. On the way from the airport to my father’s house, I held onto a tissue paper for the whole ride. Why? Because public disposal was akin to a crime. Someone took it from me as I got down from the tempo traveler and threw it in a neighbor’s compound. That’s how I was introduced to ‘Not In My Backyard’ Syndrome. As long as it’s not happening to you, or is a mess that directly on your property, you’re okay. My ‘thank you’s and ‘excuse me’s only fetched me the title of being too fragile and high class. What? When I wore a false wrap-around short skirt for my birthday, I had to convince the teacher I wasn’t flashing any boys. In trying to prove that it’s all stitched up, I apparently flashed her too. Food was weird, everything was spicy. My mom took to the kitchen and bought greens from the street vendor every day. In the mornings, for breakfast, I would be given a plate with an unproportionate ratio of curd rice to greens. Most days I puked before I went to school. This phase required me to let me socks get muddy and not worry. To eat a lot of rice. To not cringe as others put an arm around me. Oil my hair and put two braids with ribbon. And especially to not cry with all the noise around me. Ticket back to Kansas ya’ll! Boy was I happy. Back to the state of sunflowers and tornadoes. At this point, I didn’t mind if I ended up like Dorothy. I just needed some breathing space. When I got there, I realized my accent had let off. For a month I brushed up on it. I had to stop myself from cleaning my mouth, gargling, and spitting after meal times. To hush my conversations, to sanitize my hands. To not wear a bindi and not show off my recently acquired math skills. I also saw a change in my circle of old friends. They didn't see me as theirs anymore. That was probably because a lot of character development happened in the west compared to the east in a very short time. It took me a while to realize that the cool stuff is wearing a beginner’s bra and collecting charm bracelets. Saying ‘totally’ and ‘that’s cute.’ I think my chameleon nature was bit broken here. Having seen both the worlds, I didn’t particularly believe in the phrase ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’. So I would wear bindi on some days, scare the kids in the hallway who thought I was bleeding from my forehead. She must have pissed off Jesus. It’s Hinduism morons, a whole new ball game, not just one god. Bring ‘smelly’ food for lunch. I loved my garlic.

Then I moved back. Sigh. Why did we even do that? My mom said it was because she felt sad that I wouldn’t have any long-term friendships. But I never said that. She also believed that the culture was going to change for me during my crucial years of growing up aka middle school. I don’t know if she thought I was going to be bullied. I don’t know why I thought it seemed like a fun idea. All I knew is when I landed, the headaches started coming again. The noise, the light, the constant chatter at the back. Even silence was still a sound here. I found everything harder than ever. On day one when I landed in Bangalore, I started counting the dogs. I lost track and accepted that even the dogs had multiplied in the short span of 2 years. I found academics ridiculous. From 7 subjects to 13. And it was all rote learning. No one was fully grasping any theory, solving any equation. It was all an experiment and sometimes you passed. A sheep mentality that it will all be okay and we will all turn out brilliant. When I wrote ‘rock’ for the question ‘name a solid’, I lost two marks. The teacher said what was allowed was ‘wood’ because that’s the answer she’s given to the class. My mom fought with a borrowed line from one of the teachers in my schools abroad. ‘A good teacher will have a class of 20 have 20 different but right answers.’ That is completely true. That shows everyone has understood. That everyone has a right of mind, and their own way of processing the world around them. I had to say goodbye to that train of thought and stick to memorizing and spilling out the same on papers. I finished school with 86% but it wasn’t something I was proud of. I adapted, but I wasn’t happy hiding by changing my colors.

After 12 and my time in Pune went hand in hand. I was dying to be anything but a chameleon. I wanted to rebel. My idea of fitting in just died. Mistakes, please be my guest. Wardrobe malfunctions, here I come. I was in a mixed group where everyone was unique and I felt like vanilla. I didn’t want to pick out one color for the surrounding. I wanted all my colors out and all at once so that I stand out. Not be invisible. But invincible.

#nanowrimo #nano 2018 #nano writing #writing #writedaily #writers #wrimo #loveforwriting #life story #culture #cultureshock #growingup #anecdote

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