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wtf-yoongi · 4 years

Text

Flawless.

pairing | taehyung x reader

summary | you’ve lost count of how many notes you’ve left in between tae’s textbooks, from the silliest to the most profound, loving ones. and yet, even after all these months, taehyung doesn’t seem to have noticed any of them

genre/warnings | university fluff bc y’all whipped by university student!tae am i right

words | 3,070

note | this concept was inspired by a plot line in romance is a bonus book (which you can and should stream on netflix). also: for some reason i didn’t know but found out while writing this that i would do anything for kim taehyung and that’s just a fact

You don’t know how that even started.

It sounds like the kind of thing people who lose bets would be forced to do. If you lose, you’ll have to write a silly letter confessing your love to a friend. It would be funny, a story worthy of being shared with friends in between bottles of beer and other tales from college years.

But it really isn’t like that. Definitely not as funny or entertaining – just you being bored one day and then too into it to stop it.

You don’t know what had gotten into you the first time you did it. You arrived a little early at the apartment Taehyung shared with Jimin. Tae was still taking a shower. Jimin let you in and apologized for having to leave you alone because he was working on a paper due only a couple of days later. You sat down in the small living room area. Looked around for a while. Picked a thinning stack of sticky notes from your backpack. Wrote something silly on one of them. Added a little #1 to it. Entered Taehyung’s room. Picked a book out of his shelves. Opened it on a random page. Sticked the yellow note there. Closed the book. Left it alone. That was it.

After that, it was like an addiction. Maybe it was the thrill of getting caught someday – eventually, as you thought – and having a good laugh with your friends about it. You could actually picture it: Jimin and you cracking up in the kitchen after Taehyung shows up with a handful of notes you’ve written. You tell them you’ve been doing it for weeks and leaving them everywhere. Jimin jokes about Tae not even opening a textbook to pretend he’s studying. Tae eventually joins, giggling and shaking his head.

“Hey, what’s up?”

You blink quickly to focus your mind again, looking up to see Taehyung free his shoulder from the weight of his bag and place a bottle of water on the table you are now sharing. He looks relaxed despite the craziness of the end of the semester, smiling and waving at a known face two tables away before sitting down.

“You good?” He asks again and bumps his elbow against yours to coax an answer out of you. “You look too serious.”

“I was…” You start and look down at the scattered pieces of paper in front of you, trying to make any sense of them. You pile it all to at least appear a bit more put together – the papers and yourself. “I was in the library, but the tension was too much to handle, so I moved in here.”

“It’s noisy.”

Well, yes, it’s a common area filled with students doing anything but studying. You wish to feel at ease like these people. Are they done with the semester or what?

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit too noisy to study?”

“Yeah, but there’s a whole lot of people talking and I can’t tell them apart, so it doesn’t bother me,” you answer, maybe a little too quickly after a few beats of silence. You decide to add something else, something to not end it on a bad note. “It’s oddly calming.”

“Well, if you think so.” Taehyung raises his shoulders and flashes you a simple and toothless smile.

You don’t know how that even started. Liking him like the way you do.

It sounds like the kind of thing you would hear from someone else. I think I’m in love with a friend, what should I do? It would be funny, giving them advice on this sort of thing, but it only happened in movies, right?

But it really isn’t like that. It’s real. And it’s not as funny or entertaining. It kind of hurts, actually, but you can’t stop feeling those feelings and it drives you crazy sometimes.

More than often you had found yourself thinking about this before going to sleep at night – and sometimes losing sleep over it as well. It definitely wasn’t like a switch, but it sure felt like it. You gradually fell in love, but only realized it when Taehyung came running down the stairs at the Art Department to meet you.

There was nothing special about him that day – it was just the same old Tae –, but it wasn’t the art that had changed. It was the artist’s eye. You knew the second he made eye contact that something was up, but didn’t immediately jump to any conclusions, no. Love was something that came to you much later. At first, you thought maybe he had his hair done differently or the sweater he was wearing just fitted him too perfectly, the color matching everything else flawlessly.

But you had never used the word flawless to describe Kim Taehyung up until then. That’s when you realized you were the one looking at him in a different way. And that’s also when you started to wonder if that would ever happen the other way around, too.

But, of course, that never happens. He never finds out. Maybe the books you were picking up were way too random or hiding the notes inside just made it too hard for him to find them, so you decided to stick a note to a cover for once.

You could feel the adrenaline rush as you did it, almost as if you were committing a crime. What you wrote is far from incriminating, though. #19 this is a test to see if you’re truly that clueless about your own stuff. you tedious friend, you were supposed to find these. what’s the joke in me leaving them if you don’t?

After that audacious move, you were a little apprehensive for a few days. You couldn’t stop looking at your phone, waiting for it to light up with a new message. At any moment now, you thought to yourself – and it did come, the message, but it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was just a you up? I need help with an Impressionism piece and this is more your thing.

“This is your last one, right?” Taehyung asks after a few minutes. “Last test?”

You blow a strand of hair that has fallen in front of your eyes. “Yeah, this and a project due tomorrow, but I’m done with that already.”

“Oh, the one you were working on last week when I asked you to come over and you said you couldn’t?”

“Yup, exactly.”

When you disconnect your eyes from the words in front of you to look at him again, he’s calmly playing with the water bottle with a subtle smile on his lips.

“I wish you could’ve come that day.”

You had sticked a note on his only book on Impressionism just a few days before.

To be honest, you were disappointed. Over the months, you had found yourself wanting more and more for him to find the notes – and not just the ones that had jokes on them, but also the ones that ask about the weather, about how he’s feeling, apologizing for that day two years prior when you bought spicy snacks instead of the regular ones, praising his photography skills and everything else that was on your mind.

Taehyung not noticing anything gave you a more whatever attitude to it, almost as if you knew for a fact that he would never ever find them. That’s when you started to write deeper ones that sounded a little bit too much like a confession. You were talking about your fear of the future, the pressure your parents put on you, the pain of being the second child after a perfect one, how you were scared of failing in life and all the stuff you were too much of a wimp to say out loud. So many you ended up losing count and they no longer had a tiny number written in the corner.

At this point, you were running out of books. Taehyung had a good collection on his desk and shelves, piled one on top of the other without any order – but not enough for the rate you were going at. You left a note every single time you were there and able to sneak into his bedroom and caught yourself finding reasons why you had to visit just to leave another one. It was the safest way to get something out of your chest. Tae wouldn’t see it and, honestly, if he ever did, it was also ok.

“Hey!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“What do you mean what’s up? You’re the one who called.”

Taehyung laughs.

“Actually, you never call. What is up?”

“How did the test go?”

“Did you really call just to ask how I did?”

“I wanted to know if your semester’s finally over… And if you’re free.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“I guess I am… I have some books to return, but that’s it.”

“Can you come over after that?”

“Sure. Do you need anything I can pick up on my way? I think I’m stopping at the convenience store for some much needed and deserved alcohol.”

He laughs again.

“You’re right, you deserve it. In that case, can you get those potato sticks I like?”

Only it wasn’t ok anymore if he saw it. Not after you wrote that one.

A whole month had passed after that day at the Art Department. You thought you had had enough time to understand what was going on – what you felt. And even after that, it was still hard to comprehend how you could let yourself fall like that.

It wasn’t like Taehyung was paying any special attention to you. He really wasn’t. He treated you just like any other friend – maybe a closer one, yes, but not that much closer. It was hard to distinguish, though. He was friendly towards everyone, always looking for ways to help.

You racked your brain. Had he ever offered to help you with something you didn’t think he would do for anyone else? Had he ever shown interest in any way? What the hell was it that made you feel this?

Maybe it was just him. Effortlessly. Just like that.

That day, instead of going with something that popped into your head right there and then, you had a plan for once. You had imagined something a little bit longer, organized the structure of it all inside your head – sentence after sentence –, but couldn’t bring yourself to write the right words even after your third try.

That was when you decided to settle for I think I’m in love with you, you idiot. You’re driving me insane. Stop that now.

“Your beloved potato,” you say to Taehyung, handing him the children’s snack as soon as he opens the door. “Can I get a thank you, you’re the best or what?”

“Thank you, you’re the best,” he repeats your words with a small smile on his lips. Inside, the butterflies want to start fluttering everywhere, but you beg them to keep quiet and still.

You smile back at him, soon entering the small living room and leaving your much lighter backpack on the floor. “Is Jimin home? I bought him some as well.”

“No, but you can leave it in the kitchen and I’ll…”

“I don’t trust you, traitor,” you interrupt, hand immediately raising to point a finger at him, eyes squeezed in suspicion as you pick the round package and start walking again. “I’ll take this to his room and hide it somewhere. Don’t you dare look for it!”

There’s a moment of silence after you move into Jimin’s slightly messy room, looking for a spot to hide the chips and soon picking up your phone from your back pocket to let him know exactly where to find them later. When you walk towards the living room again, Taehyung is seated on the sofa with his back to you, slowly moving his hand through his growing hair.

Nothing sounds out of place or any less than completely peaceful until he opens his mouth again. He waits for you – for you to be seated and comfortable and fully focused, phone forgotten inside of your back pocket.

“Why did you stop numbering them?”

You freeze.

“What?”

Your first reaction is almost immediate. Your whole body tenses, going into panic mode with the force and speed of an electric shock. Somehow, you can’t seem to disconnect your eyes from his serene ones – a complete opposite from yours.

Your brain, on the other hand, is running a million miles per hour. It wants to know and it has so many questions. When did he find out? Did he read every single note? Did he notice you had left one inside almost every book – sometimes even two or three? Where were they now?

But, most of all, had he read that one?

“Why did you stop numbering them? The notes, I mean,” Taehyung calmly asks again. He’s so composed and gentle you start to wonder what he is thinking about you now and what conclusions he has jumped to from reading all of that. “I know the exact order you left them up to a point and then I’m lost. It kind of bothers me, you were telling a good story.”

He smiles again and an invisible hand clenches your heart.

“I just…” You struggle to find the words and, when they do come, your throat feels dry and tight and like it doesn’t want to make a sound at all. You can’t face him anymore. “I lost count one day.”

“Too bad,” he admits with the same tender tone. “I was really enjoying it, you know? Your story. There are sixty-four notes in total, so I’m guessing you’ve been doing this for a long time.”

So he has read all of them.

Your palms start to sweat and your whole body grows cold all of a sudden. You let out a small cough, but your words still come out a bit too raspy. “Kind of, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry to be this blunt, but I just got to know,” Taehyung’s voice loses its cool a little and you can see his whole body reflect that, agitated, while he turns to you. His hands reach out a little, but end up halfway, resting on the sofa.

Then, his words come out like he has finally opened his brain’s tap.

“I just have to know since when you’re feeling like this. Are you still feeling like this? You wrote me a note saying you’re in love with me and I don’t know when that happened. How could you not tell me that? God, I’m so selfish. You wrote a bunch of things about feeling like you’re not enough and being scared of the future and all I can focus on is this one thing.”

You swallow, but your mouth and throat don’t become any less tight. “It’s usually a one-time thing, I don’t always feel like that. We’re all worried about the future, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You nod. He lets out a long and staggered breath and shifts his hands impatiently. He wants to move them closer, but doesn’t know if the timing is right. “You didn’t answer my first question, though.”

You freeze again.

“It was a…” You take one deep breath, your voice as small as it has ever been, but still somewhat audible. “It was a few months ago.”

“A few months?” He repeats, voice escalating in tone, and you simply nod once again. “You should have said something. You know you should have said something, right? I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t reject you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got scared.”

Wait. He said what?

“What did you just say?” You repeat the words screaming inside your head.

Taehyung laughs, his easy-going demeanor back again. “You should look at yourself right now, your face is priceless.”

You really have no words. If the circumstances were any sort of normal, this would be the time you would raise your hand to pinch or straight up hit Taehyung, striking wherever part of him was closest to you. But this isn’t anywhere close to normal, so you just let your jaw hang open, your brain struggling to process the information.

“I’m going to tell you a secret, I truly never told this to anyone,” Taehyung starts, smile still plastered on his silly and flawless face. “I had a crush on you a long time ago, I think it was when we first started talking. I got over that quickly, actually, because you seemed so dead focused on being the best student and showed no interest at all. I thought it was ok, you know? At least I had you as a friend, you were a nice person to have around and I wanted to keep your company.”

And I was fine about it. Really, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t your friend just because I wanted something more, I really love being your friend. And I was ok for a long time until I found a sticky note and then another and another and another. I couldn’t believe you left so many and I never noticed it, like, how stupid am I? I should get a prize for being this slow.”

And then there was that one note. The one you wrote about being in love with me. I swear, I… I didn’t know what to think and then it hit me like a thousand bricks and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was nervous around you again, I wanted to impress you so hard, I wanted to make you smile and happy. I honestly don’t even know how I’m still going at this without stopping, probably because I practiced. Yeah, I did.”

A few moments of silence pass before Taehyung is speaking again. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your dropped jaw turns into some sort of awkward smile. “Did you really practice?”

“Really?” Tae asks with an overdramatic expression. “I just said all of that and you’re asking me if I really practiced?”

You shrug. “I thought that was cute.”

“My God,” he overreacts, throwing his whole upper body towards you on the sofa. His voice comes out muffled now, but as playful as ever. “This thing only started and somehow I already know I’m doomed.”

Read more ›› masterlist

#kim taehyung #kim taehyung fluff #taehyung fluff #taehyung au #kim taehyung au #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung imagines #taehyung scenarios #bts one shot #bts imagines #bts fluff

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arewelonely · 4 years

Note

hiya laurel!! i would love to make a request if you're up for it? how about some jily but this time lily sneaks in to visit james at his house? i'll leave the rest up to you xx

helloo! i couldn’t have lily sneaking into james’ house with them fully together, bc i like the idea of the potters just being so welcoming she can come in through the front door :) so, instead, we’ve got the following:

jily summer after fifth year, Lily appears in James’ room one dusty afternoon

---

“Oi, Potter, I should’ve known your room would look like a five year old’s.”

She thought this was a pretty good opener, and she had planned it, sitting on his bed after having pulled a few of his books off of the shelves and thumbing through them–biographies of famous Quidditch players, some children’s books that were so clearly wizard Lily couldn’t help but smirk as picked them up (The Tales of Beedle the Bard, seriously?).

She got to watch as James’ mouth opened and shut a few times, the door still halfway opened and his hand still on the knob.

“I mean, Quidditch posters, children’s books, mess everywhere, all we’re missing are some stuffed animals, huh?”

James seemed to come back to himself and he nudged his glasses up on the bridge of his nose (Lily rolled her eyes) and stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. “Evans, what in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”

Lily leaned back on the bed (his bed) and spread out her fingers. “Ooh, the blankets are comfy. Any stuffies hiding underneath?”

“Evans, what?” Potter seemed unsure of whether he should step forward and stop her from lifting up the covers–

“Ah, yes! A... hm,” Lily held up the dragon and pretended to think, thrilling herself at the look of utter confusion on James’ face, “a Norwegian Ridgeback?”

James crossed his arms and rolled his eyes upwards, staring at the ceiling. His cheeks tinged a slight pink. Lily held back her smirk. She knew what was coming.

“No, it’s a Hungarian Horntail. Norwegian Ridgebacks are more brown colored, less shiny black, here, see–” He made as if to move forward and take the dragon from her and then shook his head and stood back again. “No, Evans, what? How did you get in here?”

“You’ve got a window,” Lily pointed. “And a tree outside.”

“You flew here?” James’ eyebrows skyrocketed.

“No,” Lily rolled her eyes. “There are other ways of getting around, you know.”

James frowned.

“I took the train.”

“Oh.” His face flashed with some emotion that Lily couldn’t read (she wasn’t acutely familiar with any of his emotions other than irritation, smugness, or puppy-dog love, and this was none of those). James then swallowed, staring again at her lounging on his bed. “You’ve been reading?”

“Yeah. Gotta learn all I can about our friend Beedle, huh?”

James bit his lip and smiled around it. “You’ve never heard of Beedle the Bard.”

“I’m not a posh prick, huh?” Lily was aware her comeback didn’t have the usual bite it might have earlier this year, or in years past, but, of course, she hadn’t come to James Potter’s room to truly fight...

“Nah, you’re just a nerd. Surprised you haven’t heard of it.” James moved to sit on his bed with her (a massive bed, it was, so they could both sit with maybe a foot between them–oh, no, James was shifting closer now) and took the book out of Lily’s hands. “Hm.”

Lily watched as he flipped through the pages, eyes serious and scanning each page. It was a beautiful book, she couldn’t deny it... wizard kids were spoiled with books that glimmered and moved to illustrate the fairytales, instead of just stoic Muggle ones.

“Here, this is my favorite.”

Lily coughed as she tried to restrain a laugh, and her eyes narrowed when James’ eager ones met hers. “Excuse me.”

“What, Evans?”

“Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump? No wonder you turned out the way you did, that’s the stupidest title–”

“No, Evans, it is a work of art.” James turned on his back, holding the book above his head, “A long time ago, in a far-off land–”

“Potter.”

“There lived a foolish–” he turned to shoot her a glance at this word, “–king who decided–”

“Oi, Potter.”

He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “that he alone should have the power of magic.”

Lily reached forward to grab the book from him and, when his grip was too tight, snatched his glasses from his face.

“Hey, Evans, now that’s just malicious.”

She held the glasses over her head and resisted the urge to place them on her own face, leaning back and keeping the glasses up high when James shut the book and scrambled to reach up for them.

“Pot calling the kettle.”

James seemed to pull back at this, first the expression on his face and then his body, so Lily was left waving his glasses over her head with him sitting in front of her. The look on his face... he was just about to open his mouth and Lily wasn’t sure what was going to come out of it so she quickly scooted off his bed, folding the glasses to hang from the center of her shirt collar, and tiptoed around the t-shirts and, oh, yes, that was underwear, that littered the floor. She headed to the desk.

“What laws are you about to break, here?”

“Ehm, only a few.”

His desk was scattered with paper and markings, diagrams of... a car? Lily raised her eyebrows at James, shooting him a glance over her shoulder, then moved to examine the scratchings more clearly. James’ glasses swung forward from her shirt. “A motorbike, really?”

“It was Sirius’ idea, but yeah, we’ve been working on it.”

Oh, right. Sirius was here. Hm. She had somehow forgotten about that.

Lily snorted and picked up one of the pieces of parchment.

“What?”

His glasses were warm against her skin.

She turned and leaned against the desk, confirming her findings before retorting back, a smug smile working its way around her mouth, “this is wrong.”

“What?” James’ eyebrows were up so high on his forehead again, and he stepped forward. “Evans, you can’t just come barging into my room and just–I mean, why are you even here, you never–”

Yes. Yes. His cheeks were turning red, she held back her smile.

“I mean, Potter, these spells are gonna cancel each other out.” Lily pointed to the enchantments listed out by the wheels.

Gloriously, James shut up. Ungloriously, he grabbed the glasses from her shirt (she had to consciously keep her breathing steady... his hands were so close, too close to her... er). He leaned forward to stare at the page in her hands.

Lily watched as his throat worked around a swallow, his eyes darting back and forth between what must have been Sirius’ scratchings (there was no way James wrote so neatly) and the model they were scribbling on top of.

She cleared her throat. “This one’s gonna overpower any Disillusionment charm you try to add, you’re gonna need something–”

“Stronger, okay,” James snatched the paper from her and stared at it again. Prat.

“No, I was gonna say something Muggle.”

James looked up at her.

“If you make the motorbike faster using Muggle methods, gears and whatnot, you can add the Disillusionment charms without it interacting with any speed charms you’ve got.”

James stared at her, his mouth parted.

“What? I’m right.”

He bit his lip.

Lily stared at him, her heart racing. She was right.

“Where would I get something like that?”

Lily ran a hand through her hair, letting it fall forward and cover a bit of her face. “Any Muggle hardware store should have you covered.”

James was still looking at her.

“Look it up. A phonebook, or–or wait, no, you lot don’t have phonebooks, do you?”

James ran his hand through his hair.

“Go to a library or–”

“What are you doing here?”

“What’s your dragon’s name?” Lily walked towards his bed and picked up the dragon. Squishy, more shiny black scales than dull brown, a few threads falling out of the seams, clearly well loved. “Ridgie?”

“No, it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” James looked exasperated and Lily swallowed her smile.

“Ah. So. Hungry? Ehm, horny?” Lily really was pleased with herself at these nicknames.

“No. And honestly, not the type of humor I’d expect from you, seems more like what the boys and I–”

Oh, shite, he might be right. Lily interrupted quickly. “What’s it’s name?”

“His.”

“Right. What’s his name?”

“Er. Bubbles.”

Lily frowned and let an incredulous look take over her face, staring at the dragon. “Bubbles?”

“Gimme.” James sighed and looked upwards, holding his hand out.

“What?”

“Evans, give it.” He didn’t wait any longer, just took it, and squeezed in the middle–

Oh. “Oh my.”

Apparently, when one squeezed this dragon, bubbles in the shape of shimmering fire and little star-like sparks came out of its mouth.

"And,” Lily said, feeling a bit distracted, honestly quite mesmerized at these beautiful bubbles, she couldn’t even find something snarky to say about wizard children, “you still sleep with... ahem, Bubbles?”

“Alright, Evans.” James tossed the dragon–er, he tossed Bubbles– back on to his bed. “What are you doing here?”

Lily racked her brain for another question but, Merlin, nothing was coming to her. She tried, she really did, “typical of wizards, huh, having flashy toys because you don’t have the imagination–”

“Why did you come to my house, why sneak into my room?”

James was walking closer and Lily felt her breath begin to tighten, his eyes on hers, his hair flopping back down to his face.

“–to come up with anything creative on your own, you need it–”

“Evans, why are you here?”

“–just handed to you, in a shiny gift-wrapped box–”

“Evans, what is going on?”

They were standing too close at this point. James’ eyes, through his glasses, appeared too piercing and too much as if they could see through her own. Lily’s chin quivered and her nose flared. If James moved a few centimeters the longest strands of his hair would brush her forehead.

Lily swallowed. She hadn’t thought this far, had just wanted the... ugh, the fucking banter, had just wanted the back and forth and, honestly, had wanted to know what the prat’s room was like... wanted to escape her own... escape her own room, her own house, the people in her house...

“Hey, Evans, are you okay?”

What would she even say, how much of her home life did she want the prick–or, agh, no, the boy standing tall in front of her– to know?

James’ arm twitched by their side, as if he was about to touch her, and Lily backed up abruptly, a few steps until oof, ouch, the back of her head banged into the wall. Her blinks came quickly as she rubbed her head and Lily broke their eye contact and instead stared at the window. Alright, it was time to go, hm?

"Hey, you don’t have to–”

James’ arm was reaching out towards her now, but he didn’t touch, just waited as she turned around, her jaw working out something to say, or restraining something, she honestly didn’t know which.

“I mean, you can stay if you–”

“No, I can’t.” Her voice came from the back of her throat. “I don’t belong here, with all the wizard things, in your private space, hm?” She pressed a smile to her face, her voice light.

James tilted his head and shot her a look, his eyes so dark. You are wrong, the look said.

Lily swallowed.

James cleared his throat, hand through the hair, broke eye contact for a second. “You know where I live, anytime–ehm, how?”

“Sirius.” The word came out scratchy, and she coughed. “He, er, had your address written in one of his books one time, we were paired up, I noticed it...” Lily shook her head at herself and moved towards the window again, hoisted herself up.

“Evans.”

She stopped, one leg out of the window, holding on to the frame.

“Anytime. I’m here.”

Her nose flared again.

“Alright, Evans?”

James seemed small in his room now that she was watching from the outside. The air felt different here, maybe just because Bubbles wasn’t spewing magical bubble vomit, but Lily felt so deeply that she was leaving this room.

“See you at school, Potter.”

Lily jumped down from the tree higher up than maybe she should have, but she enjoyed the sharp exhale as her feet touched the ground and her limbs bent harshly, then set off towards the edge of the Potter property. She had a bit of a walk back to the center of town to get to the train, then a train ride back to... yeah, back to her home.

A month and a half left until school. She could last that long.

#jily #the potters' home #jily fic #jlly fluff #lily x james #james x lily #hp #harry potter #writing #jily fanfic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #gn mes amours

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lideria · 4 years

Text

Second Nature. | Doyoung

Request: Ahah, this was not a request I just really like to make myself suffer sometimes. This is about a childhood best friend who returns after a long time.

Author’s Note: I have kind of had this storyline already and whenever I looked at Doyoung I thought he would fit into it so well. This is a scenario rather than an imagine, so it might not be fully relatable. Plus, I’m sorry if this hurts you.

Warnings: THIS IS SAD, not proofread bc I suck at it, very downbeat pov, mentions of alcohol consumption/intoxication, mentions of divorce, mentions of injury, lots of emphasis on loneliness, plus there is a dog in this story so if you’re scared of doggies/you’re a cat person, I apologize. English is my second language so there might be errors! Let me know if there is more please!

Word Count: 11664 too many words for my own good really

Genre: ANGST, fluff, childhoodfriends!au, bestfriends!au, friendstolovers!au (???), two surprise AUs that I cannot say for the sake of the story.

I hope you all enjoy! If that’s even possible! Because I felt emotionally drained just by writing it!

“Catch me if you can!”

You let out a loud laugh as you start sprinting at full speed. Your friend and neighbor Doyoung lets out a shriek before picking up his pace, both of you running through and inevitably, over the green grass of your shared garden that is scattered with white and yellow flowers all around. Parents look at your way as they take a sip of their coffee, smiling under the mug. “Don’t sweat too much, it gets chilly in the evening!” His mother shouts when the two of you run close by them. One of you answers okay, but you both cannot make out who it is because the caution only falls on deaf ears.

He catches you when you are running close to the fence, catching you by your shoulders and accidentally pulling your hair. “Ow!” He hisses along with you as you turn back. You are very clearly pissed of, which only alarms him a little further. “Doyoung! I told you to be careful with my hair— it’s longer than yours.”

“I didn’t do it intentionally! I’m sorry. You can pinch my arm so we’re even.” He sticks his arm out, his blue and grey bracelet hanging off loosely from his wrist. “No, but I want a cookie.”

He audibly gasps. “I only have 3 left!”

When you shrug, he sighs and heads inside their vacation home. It takes him a few minutes to go to the front of the house where their kitchen is and come back and by the time he’s back, he finds you sitting at the bottom of the fence. Your face brightens up when you see him and his mother’s cookies, inarguably the best dessert to come after your mother’s. He sits next to you and hands the treasure. You still notice the frown on his face. And you hate seeing him upset.

So, you break the cookie in half— an imperfect half. You get the smaller piece to yourself and hold out the bigger half for Doyoung to take. He smiles the Doyoung smile and takes it before stuffing it in his mouth.

It was a bright, sunny day. You had been at the beach ever since the morning, now late in the afternoon, with Doyoung and his family and yours. Having a sandwich for breakfast and a picnic for lunch and snacks, swimming every other second in between. Both Doyoung and you loved swimming in the aqua blue waters that would occasionally change colors to a deeper blue. More specifically jumping from the pier in what you claimed to be “athletic poses” that were, in reality, sad yet funny excuses for superhero jumps.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, honey, but I think Doyoung had that one.” Your father says when both of you climb up to the pier after your 7th jump, for the votes of your parents on who jumped better. “Yeah, I can’t jump quite as high. It’s because he plays volleyball,” Doyoung snickers beside you with good intentions, but you still feel a little defeated. “It’s okay, you dive better than me.”

“That’s true, you suck at diving.” The realization of having said a bad word hits you both sooner than ever, and you both cover your mouths in surprise. He is smiling under his hand. You can tell because his eyes are squinting. His parents start laughing and Doyoung too lets go of the laughter he has been holding in. But of course, your parents do not look all that amused. “That’s another month before you get a pet.”

You switch to protest mode in an instant. “But it slipped from my mouth, I didn’t mean it!”

“Just because it slipped doesn’t mean it’s okay,” Your mother claims calmly, and you jump a little with frustration. “But—“

“Whining won’t get you closer to getting one.” Your father sternly adds. You stop immediately, rightfully kind of really upset. Everyone is silent until Doyoung pulls a little on your arm. You know what he means, so you let him drag you back towards the pier. Frustration stings at your eyes and Doyoung can sense it, so he nudges you a little. “Come on, don’t be sad. I’m sure a month will fly by.”

He does not receive any response, even though you argued there’s still at least a year internally. He kind of knew he would not be getting a response, because that is what you act like when you are upset. Seeing as you were, he crossed off the possibility of jumping off the pier with you for the time being. Instead he sat down at the end, dangling his legs, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. You follow his actions.

“Doyoung?” Your voice sounds like you were frowning. “Hm?” He does not look at you, because he does not like seeing people upset. “How is middle school? Is it fun?”

You were just going to be starting middle school, whereas he was going to begin his second year. As always he wanted to tell you the truth. Considering your mood, though, that might have not been the best idea. So he did not. “It is! Plenty of good friends,” Which was not necessarily a lie, but it definitely was not how it went for a lot of people. He feared you would be one of them, as you had a tendency to make friends with everyone and that was not how socializing went in middle school. But for all he knew, everything could be different and you could have an amazing middle school experience. “After school activities are really fun as well.” That definitely was not a lie. Doyoung loved volleyball. “I can’t wait to go back.”

“I’ll swim. That makes me happy.” And it must for real, because he hears the excitement in your voice.

He grins. “Then go for it.”

With that, Doyoung pushes you off the edge. Although surprised, you suspected he would do that subconsciously as he had a habit of pushing people into the water when they have just dried off to entertain himself— a rather evil habit that everyone hates. For payback you splash him with water. He splashes you back as if it would do anything, and you splash him again while calling him another bad word that your parents luckily would not be able to hear and soon enough, it turns into a splash fight.

It was the first day of Doyoung and his family’s arrival that year. You woke up feeling excited, because your best friend was finally here after a whole 5 days of waiting after your own arrival to the summer house. So you ran out to the garden right after breakfast, more than ready to see your friend.

Instead, you were not ready to see him all that much. At least not with his arm in a cast.

You go up to hug him as usual, and he mutters a low, disappointed “Hi.” In return, you give him a much brighter greeting in hopes of bringing his mood up. It does not work.

The day goes on. Both your families and you have a shared lunch, catching up on the previous 9 months they had not seen each other. Their moods are much higher than Doyoung’s and yours. His mood had made you inevitably moody as well. He was not up to play, he was not up to go to the beach, he was not up to go to the grove… It felt like he did not want to do anything. But it was summer. Not the time to be sulking around, even if his arm was in a cast.

Then came an idea.

There was a patch of young olive trees planted near your houses. They were only around the same height as you were, though it varied from tree to tree. You loved how the trees looked when they were passing through the road in between the patches a few days ago. So you only suspected Doyoung would like seeing them as well.

You run up to the parents and ask them if you could take him there. They agree without much hesitation, only warning you to make sure to stay off the road and to wear proper shoes to protect from the bugs and thorns.

Taking Doyoung there was a struggle. Making him agree to go was harder, but he also kept complaining how hot the weather was (as if it had never been that hot before) and how he was too tired (which he should not have been, because you knew he tended to sleep on car rides, and it was an overnight drive for them to get here).

But the second you arrive at the patch, something changes.

He smiles in awe at seeing just how small the trees are and how they shine under the sunlight. You both sit under one of the trees, both of your heads touching some leaves, and it leaves a funny feeling on your heads. You both giggle for quite some time until it just starts feeling nice.

“What happened to your arm?” The question was impossible to hold back, and you thought talking about it would make him feel better. The tone in his voice makes you not so confident about that. “I was dipping to hit the ball, and the arm I wasn’t using— I wasn’t paying attention to it. It twisted and snapped when I landed on it, and now I don’t know if I can play volleyball anymore.” Doyoung lets a sigh out then and it is full of feelings you cannot make out the heavinesses of, because you lacked the experience.

You hiss with attempted empathy. “What are you gonna do instead?”

He sighs again but you can make the feeling behind it out this time, it is annoyance. “My music teacher wrote my name down for a conservatoire, and both mom and dad really wants me to go. Even my brother wants me to go. Weird.”

“Singing sounds nice.” But Doyoung does not look too keen on the idea. In spite of it you smile, hopeful. “If he’s saying you should go, then you have to sing for me sometime.”

He chuckles at that and looks at you as if you suggested something out-of-worldly crazy. “Yeah. Sure. Don’t depend on it.” Then he looks down and whines upon seeing his arm and the sun hitting it— the black cover on his cast. “Ugh, it’s so hot and itchy. I can’t even swim this summer and it’s only the start,” His mouth twitches and wobbles a bit the moment he is done complaining, and you frown, even though the fact that he only realized his arm was making him feel uncomfortable when he looked at it still makes you want to laugh a little. “I’m sorry.”

Doyoung throws you the crazy look again. “I was the idiot, why would you be sorry?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice before he chuckles breathily, in what might be disbelief. You pull on his blue and grey bracelet. The beads looked okay, but the strings were a bit worn off. “We’re best friends?” You suggest, to ring a bell more than anything.

He nods just once, agreeing, examining his bracelet when he notices your gaze on it. “We should really change the strings. Yours look terrible too.”

You look down at your bracelet, green and red like a watermelon as 8-year-old Doyoung had said, and mumble. “Yeah, we really should.”

The idea comes that very second. You just seemed to beam with ideas today. “We can put the beads in your pocket and tie the strings onto the branch. A friendship tree, yes?”

He looks up and smiles. “Okay. I guess to keep in peace as well.”

You had to help him every step of the way because he lacked an arm and through the experience you come to learn that an arm is a very serious lack of a thing. Through the summer he could not do much functioning until they had to leave to get his cast off around a month and a half later, and in turn you chose not to swim when he was at the beach reading books while accompanying his parents and yours. Instead you chatted with him and put handfuls of sand in his t-shirt (being careful not to get any in his cast, of course, partly for your own safety as well) every time he told you to just go and swim, until he was too pissed off at you.

And you stayed with him and offered a piece of your mother’s tiramisu as he cried for the first time ever since the first year you met, after he got the news that his arm was in too fragile of a condition to play volleyball again. Because that was all you could do.

A chilly night, sitting on top of one of the low branches of a random tree close to your shared backyard. It would be scary if you couldn’t see the lights coming off from your houses. Or if birds were not still chirping through the calm silence. But as you sat there, blueberry muffins in your hands, it was almost comfortable. If not for the bumpy bark you had been sitting on, of course.

It was the last days of summer. More and more people were leaving, closing off their summer houses for the duration of off-season. Doyoung and his family would be leaving tomorrow, whereas you and your family would stay for just a few days longer simply because everybody loved this place with its variety of trees and its beach.

“Are you excited you’ll get to compete this year?” Doyoung asks suddenly. You nod immediately and with eager. “I’m gonna win gold.” The sheer ambition in your claim makes Doyoung chuckle, which annoys you a little. He had started doing that a lot this summer, laughing at the stuff you would claim. You look at him as if to ask why he laughed even though you know he was going through the weird phase and lucky for him, he gets the signal. Then he shrugs. “I don’t know. Winning seems important for everyone and it’s silly. Just enjoy what you’re do—“

His voice cracks. “—ing.”

You try your best not to laugh, honestly. But he breaks first, so it is only fair that you start laughing too. His voice had been doing that for almost half of this summer, which was apparently a sign of growing up.

Puberty, being a preteen and all that. You had your fair share of experiences. It was funnier when it was not happening to you.

You mock his voice when you give him an answer. “I’ll just enjoy what I’m doing!” His eyes widen a little at that and he turns a little further towards you in surprise. “Hey, that sounds like how I sound in my head!”

Both of you lose it at the silliness of the sentence, it hurts your stomach after a while. It also takes a lot of effort to not slip from the branch and fall down onto the ground. What cuts through your laugh sooner than expected was his mother calling him back, shouting quite loudly that they would be leaving before sunrise and that he needed his sleep so he should better come back before she locks the door and goes to sleep.

The way down is faster and easier than the way up had been. Doyoung stuffs the remainder of his blueberry muffin in his mouth before clapping his hands together a couple of times to clean them of crumbs. He turns to tell you that the two of you better hurry up, but the way your face looks stops him. “I’m gonna miss you,” These exact words would always leave your mouths when it was someone’s time to leave this place and the reality of not being able to see each other for another 9 months set in.

Doyoung visibly relaxes, knowing nothing was wrong. “I’m gonna miss you too. But it’s okay, it’s just 9 months— we always wait that much. Plus,” He smiles widely. “You’ll finally have a pet next summer.”

“And you’ll sing.” He shakes his head immediately. “Please?” You press your chances because it was annoying what he was doing to you. He had never played volleyball with you when he used to play (even though it was rightfully so, as you were terrible at it) and now that he was actually really good at singing (proof being that he had taken part in several shows his conservatoire organized) he would deny you the chance to hear. You were best friends. That basically gives you the right to hear his singing.

Something changes in him, as his eyes widen slightly. “You know what? If you actually manage to get a pet, I will. Deal?” You know he thinks you cannot manage to do it. But you can. So you take it.

“Deal.”

Doyoung and his family do not come next summer.

Or, rather, for several next summers.

You ask your mother the first summer he is not there, your arms on the counter and your head resting on top as you watched her cook. “Mom, Doyoung’s not coming?”

She was washing off some produce from your garden to make a salad before they went bad when you hit her with the question. You do not get an answer, and she does not slow down, so you ask again after a few seconds when she takes out a knife and the chopping board. “Oh, his father has a different work schedule now,” She answers, slicing the cucumber. “They can only use the house on spring breaks.”

Heartbroken, you turn back around to go back into the living room to play with your puppy along with your father.

On the third summer, you hear various tumbling sounds coming from outside and the faint voices of your parents through the glass. The sun is barely up, the sky a pretty pink. You hear voices of a couple of old people. Maybe more, but you cannot make it out, as sleep was fighting with you to rest just a bit longer.

There is darkness for a while. Second time you wake up the sky looks more peachy with hues of yellow. The tumbling sounds have left their place to the sound of slamming metal doors and old engines that you think can only belong to trucks, but the noise is okay, because within less than five minutes the vehicles leave.

You ask about it at breakfast. Your father takes your hand in his as he drops his cutlery, and tells you he is sorry, before revealing that Doyoung and his parents had sold the summer house. Betrayal (lighthearted betrayal which only has place in your heart during your teenage years) slowly washes over you and you stand up abruptly before mumbling something about finishing your breakfast in your room. With unshed tears in your eyes, you gather your plate and leave.

Both of your parents’ sighs are audible when you are climbing up the stairs.

By the fourth year, their house already starts to get the old, rustic, sultry look any abandoned house would get.

You grow every year, that much is sure. Your puppy does so at a much faster rate as well. Your parents get deeper wrinkles on their face. Spots on their hands. The trees get taller, thicker and older. The summer house starts smelling of nostalgia rather than just of sea salt and rarely used furniture. The beach gets even emptier than how it used to be. The grove gets lonelier and scarier. The produce of your garden loses its taste at some point. You slowly start to abandon the idea of going out to the backyard, except for the times you went out with your dog. Jumping off the pier gradually gets less fun than it once was. Your swimming partner has four legs instead of just two.

When you get your first phone, excitement washes over you with hope as company. You ask your mother if you can get Doyoung’s phone number if he has one, but she says that they have lost touch with his parents and that they do not speak to each other anymore.

Excitement leaves your body, and your smile falls.

Some couples of other years pass as time has no intention of stopping, and on one of them your father moves out. With one less person in your summer house, the emptiness grows bigger. With one less person in your summer house, the environment loses its golden glow. The leaves, even under the bright sunlight, only look a sad variety of greens. Rooms feel so much bigger. Memories start off as sweet remembrances, but they surely turn into hauntings when every single thing reminds you of one.

After your father leaves, the only person you have left in your summer house is your mother. The only things you have left is cooking and baking with her, walking around aimlessly, and sitting in the quiet at the pier with your only four-legged companion.

You slowly realize that childhood is gone. Never to come back. Growing up turns out to be loss of great people and great things, and it slowly starts to make sense why your parents kept telling you growing up and being a grown person is not as exciting as you were making them out to be when you were younger.

Summer loses its magic and grows weary. Yet, despite it all, the summer house remains as your safe space.

Because there is only the struggle of loneliness, unlike what the longer part of the years throw at you.

Yet loneliness does not prove to be much easier.

Growing up and going to college, moving out of the house took a toll on your relationship with your mother. It was not noticeable until the first time you came back for the summer break, when it started to seem like you ran out of things to talk about easily. Movie nights grew more frequent. Cooking and baking still were the fun things to do, at least.

It was not that you could not get along with her, or you had too many fights. Being around her was still comfortable. It was just that your mother could never be your friend, let alone your best friend. There were a fair amount of things you would not talk about with her. Even though she must know this, she would try to fill the gap Doyoung had left.

It was not possible. You suspected it never would be. Because he felt like second nature to you and he was gone. How could anyone replace second nature?

Her trying to fill the gap your father had left was one thing. The other was not all the same.

Summers got quiet and lonely after Doyoung left, yes. More so after your father left. But as you kept growing up and sharing less with your mother, the dimension of your loneliness shifted. It started feeling more like isolation.

And it was then, that you felt like true happiness started shifting away from you.

Your favorite time to hang out at the pier is around sunset hours.

The beach was the emptiest around that time and the night, because the general population was old and dinner preparation would keep them from going out from late afternoon and onwards. After sunset— the usual dinner time for most of the neighbors— porch lights would get turned on immediately. And when dark blue paints over the sky while the moon slowly comes out, the sounds of old neighbors visiting each other and chatting, sometimes playing games on their porch and laughing along would travel to the wooden pier where you would be laying down, listening to the wavering sea. It had quickly grown to be one of your fondest things about the summer.

That afternoon is no different. It is almost the golden hour on a hot day, and your dog is absolutely spent after a long walk so you both deserve to get a breather, really.

You move towards the end of the pier and sit down, alerting your dog gently to do the same. Her tail thumps repeatedly against the boards as she sits down looking at your hand. You cannot help but smile at her cuteness. Opening up the water bottle you had brought along, you place your palm under it curled like a bowl. Letting the water flow down carefully, you let her drink the water from your palm.

She ends up drinking most of the water in the bottle but still sweats afterwards. Happy and content despite sweating, she looks around and at the water, watching the few fishes that were swimming towards the seaweed bunched around the pier’s legs, wagging her tail in curiosity. You look at the water as well, but your mind is elsewhere. Wondering about your father.

He had promised you to come and visit before summer ended and here you were. Halfway through the summer— almost more than halfway.

Something in you started wondering if he would keep his promise a while ago. The hope that held onto the promise started dimming as the days went on.

You let a huff out in an effort to lighten the tightness in your chest. It works ever so slightly, and your companion turns her head to you. She has always had a talent in understanding when you were upset— maybe an instinct, and this time was no exception. She lies down next to you and nags at your hand. Giving in was too easy when it was her. You start petting her and letting her lick your hand and arm.

Perhaps it is magic, because her efforts of cheering you up works without any exceptions. Not giggling is impossible.

Her and you lay down, playing around for a while as her attempts of licking your face gets more frequent and although you adore her, you do not want to be licked on your face. It turns into a wrestle rather quickly. Her paws press on your stomach sometimes which is far from a pleasing experience and it is when she really just makes you nauseous that you force her down to a hug. It takes too much time huffing and puffing and annoyed-sneezing for her to calm down and stop wagging her tail but she stops eventually.

Literally seconds later there is the slightest creak on the boards and she picks her head up. The tail starts wagging and thumping again. You ignore it, wanting to cherish the moment.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for a certain someone, can you help?”

The familiarity of the upbeat voice pulls a weak string at your heart automatically. The string sends waves of electric all throughout your body and it surprises you how much it can burn still, after years of no contact, and it is only a familiarity.

Breathing deeply, you answer. “Unless you’re looking for your grandparents, I don’t think so.” The creaks get louder, nearer. Then they stop. The wagging tail is way too excited for its own good as the thumps get faster and harsher, and she starts getting excited again, trying to look at and smell whoever it is that stands near you.

A face hovers far above yours with a smile. “I don’t think I’m looking for my grandparents.”

Your breath hitches and you let your companion loose without meaning to. She wastes no time in jumping up and become acquainted with the intruder.

Except he is not. He is not an intruder. He is a familiar face. Hell, he is more than a familiar face. He is second nature.

And just one glance at his not changed but grown face takes all the betrayal, the disappointment, the feeling of having fallen out of place away. And it takes everything in you to not start crying on the spot. Instead you smile big, spring up onto your feet and throw your arms around his middle to hold him close, so close that he does not have the opportunity to leave, not now. His shoulder welcomes your face to nuzzle itself in and you take the advantage fully— shocked, even though it was an obvious fact, that he had grown so much. His arms find their places around your back comfortably. Hugging felt natural and safe but still weird to some extent, because it was not like how it was 8 years ago.

“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?” Your voice still shakes even though you keep the tears inside. He places his chin on top of your head as you nuzzle closer and lets out a breath himself. “I think I do.”

After many minutes of hugging and letting the emotions out in the form of squeezes and nuzzles, both of you sit down where you were stationed before Doyoung appeared. One of his hands keep petting your four-legged best friend while he keeps his mouth occupied, talking to you to catch up in any way.

You could not stop looking at him. Taking it all in. Just how taller he had gotten— though not a giant like he had sometimes hoped he would turn out as, but you do not tell him that— and how sharper his facial features had gotten. Yet it comforted you how he had not changed. You could go back in time and look at him, and compare the two looks you had seen, and you could easily tell that this person in front of you was Doyoung.

His jet black hair, even, had not changed much at all. It was still in his face in some way. It was as if he had just physically grown up, and nothing had changed other than him growing taller and his features setting in place.

That comforted you, although you were not sure why.

Curiosity took over you as you kept chatting in the comfortable silence. There was so much to learn about him. It almost felt like you were meeting with a new person. Almost.

“Where are you even staying?” The question feels kind of uncomfortably intimate for you to ask after so much time, but you do not want to lose anything that you had with him. So it would only make sense for you to act as if it is still there. He does not seem to mind the question too much as the answer comes sooner than you would expect, without the awaited stare. “I’m crashing at a friend’s couch. He lives near here.”

“Who lives here all year?” You mumble in disbelief. But you trust him in telling the truth. He smiles back, looking around as if to check the environment. “Everything looks the same. This place aged well,” His gaze shifts back to you, warm and gentle. “I can’t say the same about you, though.”

There is nothing harsh about his words, but you cannot help but feel taken aback. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, not even bothered about your dog sweating over his leg as he keeps petting her. “A lot of things feel different about you. You look different too.”

“Is that to say I haven’t aged well?” You joke, making light of the situation. It would be a lie if you did not admit that his words did not hurt you in the slightest. Even though you knew that they held some truth value. He huffs, letting his head fall to the side, annoyed. Like the olden days. It makes you too happy to see it. “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. There is just, something off about you, it hits you in the face.” He stops for a second to look at you properly again. You do not look offended, so he continues. “But I don’t think everyone would be able to notice it enough to make a deal about it, you know?”

It is your turn to shrug with one shoulder, and click your tongue a little, shaking your head as if this whole thing did not bother you. “Mm, I grew up,” He throws a look as if to say I know, but you keep on talking. “And I changed. Nothing too crazy.”

“You’re sweeping it under the rug, but I’m gonna let that go this once.” He says as your dog’s attention span on him expires, and she goes to lay down at the corner of the pier, a spot where she can have her own space and a rather okay view of the fish living down there. “This once?” You ask, unable to stop the hope from surfacing.

“Well,” Doyoung turns his body to face yours. He sits criss cross. “I’ll be around until the end of summer. I just assumed we can keep seeing each other?”

A laugh breaks through years of quiet summers as your heart flutters. “Of course, yeah.” Doyoung smiles back his smile, his one of a kind smile, and you have to pinch yourself to know this is not a dream.

It is not, and night had never come faster in years.

Getting to know your best friend for the second time was a weird experience. You had to ask him what he was studying since he was going to begin his senior year of university, to which he answers musical theatre. Upon that you smile a witty smile, pointing at your companion who picks her head up after she realizes she was being pointed at, and tell him that you had gotten a pet so he would have to sing to keep his promise.

He laughs and answers okay. But not now.

Within minutes, he updates you on almost everything. He tells you stories of this band he was part of where he formed his friend group, and how he had been picked up as the male lead for Tick, Tick… Boom! at the end of his sophomore year so he actually had to learn how to dance. Doyoung claims to not having been the greatest in it, so you ask with all the curiosity in your heart if he managed to get a date out of the musical. You get an answer of an overly confident of course, which tells you more than you need. Despite not having heard his singing, or having seen him dance, you tell him that he must have been amazing at it. When the argument comes you simply shut him up with the fact that he was picked as the lead.

Doyoung mentions not seeing his family for that summer because of the fact that school had ended only fairly recently, and because he could not not see this place anymore. He adds that he never even mentioned coming here to his family to eliminate any chances of them insisting he would go see them, and that he would really appreciate if you kept his presence here a secret from your parents as well. You agree to it, partly because he is still someone you could do anything for, and partly because the selfish feeling of wanting him to yourself only for a while.

The mood kind of goes down when he asks “So, uh, what was life like after I left?”

The question makes the smile fall off your face involuntarily for just a second before you push through and fight it off, smiling once again. “High school was hard, first of all.”

One of his eyebrows rise in surprise. “Oh yeah? What was it like?”

Without even stopping to think, you answer truthfully. “Like you ate shit, and tried to throw up the shit you ate, but it took you 4 years to do so.” There is a wince of disgust before he answers. “Ew. That sounds miserable.”

“Was in fact miserable.” You admit. The shits-and-giggles attitude breaks faster than you intend to. “My parents got divorced in junior year, and my father had to move out, so that was a big contribution.”

Doyoung does not look surprised, but upset. He looks down at his hands before looking back up at you. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Again, a shrug, as your lips waver. “It’s whatever.”

Silence. Uncomfortable silence maybe for the first time ever since you met him.

So you break it. “You know what? This is a reunion, and I really don’t wanna talk about how a break up that’s not my own affected me. There are lots of happier things to talk about,”

The two of you keep talking with each other for hours and hours on end. You are sure he misses the dinner at some point unlike you who were used to having early dinners. Naturally you have to take a break every once in a while to help your dog do her business, but you hold your own business inside to have all the time you can with him. It still felt as if he would leave again and never come back.

But at some point he has to leave, so you let him go. Not without a “Let’s exchange numbers?” though.

However, the answer you get is not all that satisfactory. “Sorry, I can’t. I’ve a foreign number since I study abroad and— yeah. I didn’t activate my local one this time. And you know how internet connection is here.”

“Basically nonexistent,” You agree. “But how do we meet up if we can’t—“

He smiles. “I can just come here every night after dinner.”

Your breath hitches again. Happiness beats in your heart. You could certainly do with that. “Sure. If it’s alright with you, I mean.”

“It’s why I’m here.”

In all honesty, the fact that Doyoung is back does not hit you until around the end of the first week.

The week in itself is fairly uneventful if you overlook the excitement his presence gives you. You mostly just speak to each other, to catch up on all that lost time. One thing you notice is how affectionate and all over each other both of you seemed to get, and on your part, it was still about making sure he was truly there. Hugs quickly grew to be the default state you would hang out together. If his arm was not around your shoulders, your arm would be stationed at the small of his back as you sat at the beach or the pier, and if neither was happening your legs would be sprawled across and over his lap.

Nothing about the affection you two seemed to gain felt awkward. It came so naturally.

The only weird thing about Doyoung was how he managed to be so punctual. You would show up at the pier as soon as it got dark, basically— and often he would already be there waiting. If not, he would only be late for around a few minutes. You could not tell if it was intuition the both of you shared, or a silent agreement. Whatever it was, it was a great thing, and you were thankful for it, because it gave you the time you so badly needed with your best friend.

Keeping Doyoung a secret from your mother proved to be harder than you initially thought. The fact that you were almost a fully grown adult about to start junior year of college seemed to be an irrelevant fact as soon as you started staying outside for too long in the night, and you had to swear to your mother several times that everything was okay. You excused yourself saying it was too hot when sun was out, and the beach was breezy and enjoyable in the night, so you would rather hang out with your dog then.

Which was not all a lie. She seemed to enjoy herself a lot more then, as well, and sweat a lot less. Not to mention her liking of Doyoung.

Randomly on one night you notice the bracelet still on Doyoung’s wrist. It makes you smile silly. “You still have it on.” Your finger goes and pulls on it, reminding Doyoung of the fact. He smiles fondly. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you?”

You pull your leg out of the water and show him. “I do, just not on my wrist.” The green and red beads shine on your ankle with the moonlight, and your leg goes chilly when the breeze hits. Doyoung’s reaction looks questionable at best so it only prompts you to further explain yourself. “Motivates me to hold my ground. It’s easier to remember who I am this way.” The words awaken something you would rather not feel ever again. Your chest hurts with the rush of the stinging feeling, but you hold yourself to endure it.

He stops as another wave hits both of your legs and furrows his brows. “What does that mean?” You turn back around to face him better— he looks hurt, somehow. As if he can feel what you are feeling inside. You take a breath. “I was very lonely, you know,” The tone of your voice reflects the hurt you kept dearly inside, and you have to physically squeeze your hands within themselves to not let the cracks reach the bottom of your feet where they would break you in half. It is the first time you ever admit it and the words sound harsher in your ear than how they used to sound inside your thoughts. “I still am, in a way. And it’s hard to not want to run away from everything when the world basically gives you all the reasons to. So I had to stand my ground.”

When his mouth opens to say whatever he had on his mind you turn your back to him. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Your dog passes by you two, running along the shore and playing in the water, blind to the atmosphere.

Doyoung respects what you say.

Although thankful for his silence, it eats away at you for days. Some part of you keeps saying that you are not letting Doyoung get as close to you as he has been letting and is letting. Because he lets you know how his biggest dream is to really debut in a Broadway show, and how singing means so much to him now. You know he studies in one of the best schools for musical theatre. You know about how he is lifelong companions with his brother now, instead of enemies like how they had been when you were children. You know he is still very afraid of anything remotely creepy. You know his biggest insecurity is his dancing and his biggest fear is being involved in anything violent and getting hurt. You just know so many things about him. And he keeps telling you even more with excitement beaming off of his eyes.

And it makes you feel bad. Because you cannot bring yourself to talk about everything like he does.

For one night, you let the attitude fall, though.

You decide he can get to know something if he wants to, because that night you had promised each other to meet at a later hour than you normally would have. You had promised your mother a proper dinner and chat, inarguably a nice way to spend your evening, and there were a bit too many glasses of drinks in your system. Luckily you were still highly functional— treading on the fine line between tipsy and fully drunk. It was more or less an open invitation to an interrogation with how talkative you were.

Doyoung notices the slight sway in your steps before a second even passes. He chuckles a bit, giggling as you throw yourself into his open arms. His giggling prompts a sluggish laugh from you because it is just so cute. And he helps you to your station of just a bit over two weeks. He helps you sit down without slipping, and helps your dog to calm down a little by petting her head.

He is still a very good friend.

You do not bother to open your mouth, because the sky is dark, the pier is dimly lit, the breeze is soft and chilly, the smell of sea salt is intoxicating, your old love bug of a dog is wagging her tail looking at you, and Doyoung is sitting right beside you. Your head is on his shoulder.

It feels so perfect. Why would you want to talk?

But he has other plans.

“Do you want to talk about last week? The night when we were walking along the shore, I mean?” His voice is gentle as ever. Even though the question is highly expected, you huff. Yet your head acts on autopilot as it nods. “Sure.”

He clears his throat. “Why do you feel lonely?” The question is blurted out and not cautiously asked, as if had he tried to ask it with caution he would not have been able to.

Still, it feels like he has to ask the hardest questions. But, you jump into an answer without any preparation. “First, you left. Every single summer I waited for you to come back. Along those summers I kind of,” The act of jumping into an answer does not seem to be all that easier than working through the painful thoughts, so you trail off a bit before you pick your words back up again. “I guess I kind of felt betrayed and, um, lost trust? I never tried to be friends with anyone and the amount of people that take the first step towards someone who clearly won’t try is fairly low, you know?” You look up at him, and he is already looking down at you. Gently but without a smile.

“So I didn’t have friends, really. Not like you. Then, like I told you— dad left. Was the icing on the cake. I was too used to his presence, like yours. Both of you were with me for more than half my life and suddenly you weren’t.” You scoot closer to him as an instinct and he welcomes you, like he always does. “I guess that hurt the most.”

“Was too big of an emptiness to handle?” It sounds so lighthearted, yet is so spot on. So you can only nod as you hold onto his arm. “Yeah, but I handled it.” Plus, it had payed off— he was here and soon, your father would be too.

Your father calls you a few days later on a sunny but breezy afternoon when you are in the backyard playing with your dog. His voice sounds tired and old— a fact you could only realize when you were not face to face with him. Tired maybe because of his work schedule. Old because you were not the only one growing up.

But his voice is not only tired and old, it also sounds genuinely apologetic. “Hey, honey, I don’t think I’ll be able to visit you there this summer. I’m so sorry. Maybe we can spend time next summer, you could even get an internship here before senior year starts?”

Yet it still sounds just like a mix of made up excuses. “You can’t or you won’t visit me?” The question is bitter with every sound that leaves you, and your father certainly seems to get the point as a sigh echoes in your ear soon after. “I don’t think your mother would enjoy me being there, so how about we just see each other in winter break, hm? It’s sooner than summer break, and a few months will fly by with school. I’m sure.”

“Making truce for a week shouldn’t be so hard after that many years of marriage.” Your argument is intended to reflect the disappointment in your voice and it does, but there is also a very obvious hint of hope in there that goes unnoticed. “That’s not how relationships work, honey. I’m sorry. Please don’t get mad at your mom, okay? Tell her I said hi, and call me back when you feel better.”

And he ends the call.

It takes everything in you to not throw the phone hard to the ground. Instead you call your dog to come sit next to you on the grass, and cuddle her in hopes of getting better. By ways of magic, perhaps, she can tell your heart is broken and that you need the company. So she calms down in lightning speed and just nuzzles into you, and you stay there like that, her sweating and looking around and rarely whining and hugging you closer, until your mother calls you in for dinner.

Dinner is uneventful save for your mother asking you if you would be going out again, which you would be. She talks to you about these new recipes that she has found in this new recipe book she bought and you pretend to be interested in the matter. In all honesty you could not care less but it would not be justifiable to say that since you knew you would be devouring the sweets if they came to existence in that instant.

You finish your food in silence before grabbing your denim jacket and making your way out of the door with only a stern and noticeable “Dad says hi.”

Doyoung is luckily already at the pier that evening even though it is slightly earlier than your usual meeting time. He is sat down at the end, looking down and watching the small waves hitting the legs of the pier. He must hear your feet on the boards because he immediately turns around and lifts himself up to his feet, but his smile falters when he is able to make your face out in the dim light. “Why are you alone? Something wrong?”

It is only his question that reminds you that you had rushed to the pier with one less friend because you forgot to bring her. That had never happened before, and the fact that you had the ability to forget weighs heavy on your shoulders— to the extent that you only look down at your feet in shame and break down when the tears invade your eyes without any signal.

Nothing happens for a few seconds as you weep. He takes the first step towards you after the initial shock and slowly brings you into a hug as you mumble shaky apologies with trembling hands. You are enclosed in such a hug that you cannot even hug him back, and he keeps reassuring you that it’s fine, that you don’t need to apologize for crying, and that you’re so strong. He keeps combing through your hair with his fingers, and at some point he helps you sit down before pulling you back into a hug.

Calming down is hard because of too many things hitting you at once, and perhaps because your newly-built happiness had taken another blow to it. “Dad’s not coming.” You manage out after a while, and he listens as you ramble. “There’s only a couple of weeks until I have to go back and—“

You sob. “I just want childhood back. Everything was better back then. He was here, you were here, we were happy. I’d give everything up to be kids again if I knew we could.”

His eyes are brimmed with tears too, but he would never tell you that. Instead he pulls you in closer if it even is possible, and takes a deep breath before speaking up. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you sing?” The low mumble vibrating into his chest reaches his heart, and he cannot bring himself to say no. It takes mere seconds before he takes in another breath and jumps into a song.

You are just so young at this very moment, my dearest Life ahead has hopes and joys Promises of happy days For you, for an eternity Neither loneliness nor any lies may ever bring tears to your eyes You've wept enough when you were born, Let that be the final, the last

Doyoung’s singing is beautiful. His airy voice that carries so much emotion with it only makes you cry harder initially, which makes him panic slightly as he keeps trying to check up on you, but you just shake your head and bury your face deeper into his chest. The song touches every living cell in your body and gives you a strength you would never expect a song to give you, and it makes you feel hopeful.

Just a bit, but it is a start of something that blooms in your chest.

And you do feel better afterwards, though it takes you some time to quiet down properly. Doyoung asks if you are actually feeling better when the sniffles subside, and you nod.

Then an idea strikes you, and you smile.

You shove Doyoung with your hand. “Ow! What was that for?”

Slowly rising up to your feet, you look at him. “Catch me if you can!”

And you bolt away from him.

It takes more time than strictly necessary for him to realize what you mean. His words only reach your ears when you have already made your way to the beach. “I thought we outgrew this!” And he starts running to catch you.

Playing tag on sand is more difficult than you remember. Maybe because you really outgrew this game, or maybe because it is dark, possibly both, but you could not care. You were too busy with running away from him, who by the way, was much better at tag than you would expect. He still had the speed he once did while you were kids and playing the game in your shared backyard, and the fact that you two were playing on sand does not seem to be phasing him too much.

You have to resort to running along the shore with your feet in the water to slow him down, but he still comes dangerously close to catching you. So it is really your only resort to run back onto the pier.

Except the pier is not wide enough to fit two adults circling the width of it with that much speed. It would only grant a chance for Doyoung to catch you. But, the adult you was crazy enough to do something the child you would never have the bravery to.

You do not know how you manage to take off your denim jacket that fast, but you do, and you let out a scream of adrenaline just as he shouts at you to stop— and you jump into the water when you reach the end.

The water is definitely colder than how it had been in the morning when you were swimming, but you still laugh as you make your way to the surface. Doyoung looks at you with wide eyes and a smile. “Come on!” You manage out. “A little water shouldn’t scare you from catching me.”

He laughs at the invitation, takes a few big steps back, and runs forward to jump into the water himself.

Your mother scolds you in the morning about the fact when she asks you why you have got a minor cold all of the sudden, but it certainly is worth it.

“You want to sleep over at ours tonight?”

You ask him the question as summer’s last days quickly approach on a night (basically almost a morning) where you have stayed up for too long. There was not much reason to let him go back to his friend’s house. Especially when you did not trust him with traveling in the dead of the night.

It freaks him out a bit, you can tell, because he physically gets a bit smaller and fidgets. “You know I can’t, what if your mom—“

“She’s sleeping, I swear. She never stays up this late. You can just sleep for a few hours and leave when the sun comes out.”

He cannot protest the idea much after that, because he knows you would not let him go.

Together, you leave the pier and start walking back to your house which takes quite some time, but it is nice. Walking back towards that direction with him again flutters your heart. It makes you want to squeal in excitement. But at the same time it is not exactly like how it was when the two of you were kids. There was something different.

You could not put a finger on it.

Your dog trails behind you, trotting contently as you walk arm in arm. Walking that way had started off as a joke around two weeks ago when the both of you walked through the streets neighboring the beach. You two played a game of two elites roaming through the streets of the commonwealth as you told him what the neighbors had been up to in the years that he had not come. And then, it just stayed as a habit.

Because it was comfortable. And because you liked being close to him.

When you reached the backyard, you opened the gate and let him and your dog in. The bugs were still playing a symphony of various different screeching, and your summer house was pitch dark as you had expected it to be.

You make your way towards the back door and slide it to the side, and one friend of yours makes her way inside and onto her bed immediately. The other friend is not so quick. You turn around to tell him to hurry up before mosquitoes make their way inside, but you find him stuck in place with no intention of moving as he looks at what used to be their house.

You slide the door back and walk back to him.

“It looks so.. run down,” He sounds so genuinely sad for the first time ever since he came back. It hurts you to see it. “And old. I wish I could help it somehow.” The second half of his words only come out as a whisper as he inspects the place that holds his better part of childhood memories.

“Nobody’s bought it. Your parents could buy it back if they wanted to, but it does require a lot of work inside.” You suggest calmly, and with hope that is supposed to be ironic yet quite the opposite of it. Doyoung looks so confused at what you say. It takes him a good moment before it clicks. “Yeah, yeah, true. I don’t think they’d do it, though.” He sighs, thoroughly considering whether to stay there and look at the house, or to go back in. He chooses the better option even though it is hard. “Let’s go inside.”

It takes too much effort to coerce him into sleeping with you on your bed rather than having him sleep on the very uncomfortable couch. You tell him more than enough times that his back would be broken if he ever attempted even taking a nap on the couch— speaking from experience— and he just ends up giggling shyly when you tell him it does not have to be weird if you two sleep together.

So you two go to your room. As the furnitures never really needed to change, your bed was still a twin bed, which only prompted Doyoung to get that much shier.

You two get in the bed and under the covers, you on the side against the wall to give him the chance to leave comfortably when he has to. To make him feel better about it, you take your phone and set an alarm to the exact minute of sunrise, and he laughs when you tell him he is too much of a scaredy cat.

As your twin bed’s width commanded, you had to cuddle to have a chance at sleeping comfortably. Your head on his chest feels better than ever, his breathing hitting the top of your head slightly funny. He giggles when you giggle at the feeling. You can imagine him smiling crystal clear in your head and surely, when you look up at him, he is.

It is just a shame that you do not hear his heartbeat when you turn back to sleep, because you really wonder if it is beating as fast as yours do.

Just a few days before you have to leave.

You ask Doyoung to come in the afternoon that day because you want to have a picnic, which he agrees to. Both of you meet at the pier around an hour before sun would start to set, and share a hug before he starts to make his way to the end of the pier. But you stop him this once. “I wanna take you somewhere else.” He agrees to it without much questioning.

The trails seem to be a bit more overtaken by thorns and wild flowers, so it takes you a bit longer than it should have to get to the patch of olive trees. You look at him expectantly when you arrive and, surely enough, he has one of the most beautiful smiles on his face. The happiest, too, if you recall right.

You lead him to your tree and set the bag of snacks down, preparing the place— laying down the old table cloth to sit on, taking out the packed sandwiches and olives and the blueberry muffins. He is too entranced looking at the tree to notice, but he throws an apologetic glance when he realizes.

“Where are the strings? I can’t see them,” He claims. You point to one of the higher end of the branches, a place where they definitely were not initially placed. “I had to change their location as it grew,” You explain. “They were too tight to stay where we’d tied them when we were midgets.”

Doyoung laughs and its remainder stays on his face as he finally spots the strings on the tree. He looks at it for a minute or two in adoration, but his eyes hold something a bit sadder inside.

Maybe he misses childhood, too; you never stopped to think about it before.

Soon enough he sits down. You unwrap your sandwich and suggest he does the same, but he tells you he is not that hungry though he would make sure to eat it.

A warm chatter starts between you two. He asks you what you would be doing for junior year, which was pretty set already— you would be looking for internships left and right, and trying to survive the mountains worth of assignments. Midterms and finals would surely be getting more difficult as well, but that did not matter all that much. An internship would help you find a job, so that would be your focus.

You ask the same to him, what he would do that year before he graduates. It must be exciting to graduate, and Doyoung tells you he would have to start looking for places to live and extend his immigration status in one way or another while he auditions maybe hundreds of times before he manages to land himself in a good musical and hopefully a good position.

He can do it, you know. There is no way he cannot with that voice. You tell him that, and he gets a bit flattered before telling you his concerns do not have too much to do with singing but rather with dancing.

You tell him he still can.

That ends up being the finish line for that conversation and you finish your sandwich in silence, only looking at your phone sometimes to see if you have any texts or calls from your mother, since she is the one that has to take care of your dog.

He watches the leaves wave in the constant breeze this summer offered this place, and picks up an olive from the cup you had brought. He holds it up and lines it with the branches that are decorated with unripe olives, and squints his eyes before asking. “Did these come from here?”

You nod your head enthusiastically. “Mhm,” Your hand lands itself on the trunk behind your back. “From this tree itself. My dad collected them when he came here in October last year.”

Doyoung smiles and pops the olive into his mouth. He looks genuinely delighted to be eating it, which makes you happy.

The two of you continue chatting and bickering and relaxing until sun starts setting, which signals that you have to get going. The summer house still had to get cleaned and tidied up to get ready for being locked up for the off-season, and the amount of work you and your mother had to do was a bigger deal than it needed to be. Not to mention the fact that you had to carry so many stuff to and from this place every year, so there was even some packing to do, which you hated. University experience really brought too much of it.

And then there is the fact that somehow, you would have to say goodbye. Having to say goodbye to Doyoung gave you a nostalgic feeling, but mostly it made you feel sad and scared. The day you would have to tell him goodbye for who knows how long was approaching without any mercy, which did not make it any easier to plan what to do next or how to say it before going to sleep at night.

So maybe it is only fair to say what is going through your mind. Which is that you do not want him to leave again. “Doyoung,” You start off. He looks into your eyes with full attention. “Don’t leave again. Not for long.”

The request prompts the start of silence. But it is only for a short while before he gulps, and answers with determination. “I won’t.” He shakes his head. “Not again.”

The untold promise makes you so happy you can cry, and what he happens next is really not something that had a thought behind it.

You place your hands on his jaw and bring him closer, so much closer to you until your lips meet, and his hand springs to hold yours on his face with shock. What you seem to be doing shocks you as well, but you cannot exactly stop yourself. You did not want to. And you certainly are sure you would not stop unless he wants to.

Yet, he also does not seem to want to stop. Because after the initial shock that lasts for what must be only a second, he holds your hand tight and places his other hand on the small of your back. His lips are so soft and airy, and the way he kisses you is so endearing. It feels like he is repeating his promise without words, telling you he is here now, and he would be here when you come back. You stop and pull away from him just for a second, looking into his eyes that shimmer before leaning back in and pecking his lips again and again— kissing him thank you, thank you, thank you. He holds you in place and kisses you for what you know is going to be the last time, and he kisses you so forcefully it screams I love you; I don’t know how it happened but I love you and I want to keep loving you.

You push back against his lips in an attempt to say I love you yourself, but you have to pull away and hug him tight to make any sense.

It takes a moment for him to start speaking, and when he does, he sounds absolutely horrified. “We need to talk.”

You pull away from him again and look at his stressed figure. It makes your heart drop. “About this?”

He shakes his head at first but then nods. “I need to tell you something. We really need to talk.”

The happiness in you dares to falter, but you will not let it. Not this once. Not when you are this happy. So you lift yourself up onto your feet and shake your head, because you will not let him bulldoze something he had built himself. “You know what? No. Let me live with this just for a night.” Doyoung tries to protest, opening his mouth, but you cut him off before he can even start. “Just one night, Doyoung. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

He only nods slightly, and you mutter an “I’ll leave now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before packing everything back up and handing him his sandwich, and rushing back to your house.

It takes you only a short while to get there because of how fast you were walking, and you do your best to get into the backyard and into the house without making much noise, because your mother was not expecting you. She might have been sleeping.

And granted, the house is silent and calm when you first walk in. But then you spot the figure of your mother hunched over the island counter in the kitchen, on the phone. You are about to go ahead and hug her from the back as a surprise when her barely audible sob stops you. It is impossible to go unnoticed just how hard she is crying, because she cannot even let it out fully. It makes you wonder why, what was wrong, but then she speaks—

“I’m serious. Our child was speaking into pure emptiness and it’s.. I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared.”

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct 127 #nct u #my fingers hurt #my brain is mush #i hope this is a good one #lol i can only hope

53 notes · View notes

izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Note

Sledgefu: A quiet, cozy night in with the cats. Maybe Snafu is feeling a little insecure bc Gene’s spending a lot of time with new friends at school? He feels a little left out bc Gene is always talking about them, but Gene doesn’t realize it until he really slows down and really listens to/looks at Snaf while they’re snugged up on the couch. If you want to 💞💞💞

Ooh yes I love it!! Thank you for sending this in!!!

Also, ended up putting together a playlist of what I listened to as I wrote this, so if folks are wanting some extra atmosphere as they read, here it is: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z3p8nXomzQRkWjvY3PK5a?si=uK7XQngWTtOg7UlG5dUm_A

Gold Still Glitters is below the cut!

He knew Eugene wouldn’t make dinner, he hadn’t for the past couple of weeks. Busy at the university library, studying away with a few classmates he’d gotten to know better as the semester had gone on. He’d even met a few of them now, Ted and Michael and a particularly intimidating man who, despite having the highest grades out of any of Eugene’s friends, insisted on going by his nickname of Flea. It was given to him in the Army, and was actually short for Flea-Brain, but Eugene had talked him into using just Flea. Good-hearted boy couldn’t bear to call a new friend something like that is what it was, and it made Snafu’s heart swell. That was his man, being so sweet!

But his heart hurt as he sat at the table alone, set for two on accident. It was simply his habit now, and he hadn’t even realized he’d done it until he sat down to the gumbo he’d made.

Delilah hopped up onto the extra seat, her little nose delicately touching the bowl meant for Eugene, and that broke him.

“This is stupid,” he scolded himself as the tears rolled. He wiped them away in between spoonfuls of his dinner. “Isn’t it, Delilah? I should be happy your papa is out there makin’ new friends. It’s a good thing.”

She meowed softly, and he gave up on the food. That felt equally silly, putting it all away right away after he’d worked most of the day to make it, but his appetite was gone.

Better was sitting in the bedroom with Delilah on his lap, the other cats scattered on the bed and Ack Ack with his soft nose batting at the hand Snafu let drop down to where the dog was sat on the floor. The radio played, and seemed desperate to drag him down even as he tried to clamber back up, as they rotated through love song after love song, mixed with more melancholy hits. If not for the cat sleeping on him, he’d have turned it off.

Despite the whirring wheels of his mind, he found himself drifting off when the front door suddenly slammed.

“Snaf? Sorry I’m so late!”

Eugene’s voice echoed down the halls, but Snafu couldn’t bear to answer it.

“Snafu? You here?”

Delilah woke and looked at him, as if asking why he wasn’t responding, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Merriell?”

He listened as Eugene’s footsteps came up the stairs, then to the bedroom.

“Thought I heard music,” Eugene said as he opened the door. “What happened?”

Snafu shook his head. He loved Eugene, but as wonderful as it was to see him, he wanted nothing more than to be alone until he got over his feelings, the stupid frustration that told him to call Eugene on it, on getting home so late and missing dinners, on only having time for homework and friends but little for his husband. But Eugene hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wouldn’t be fair to yell and shout and fuss at him for doing what every other student was doing, trying to learn and work and live and balance it all.

“You’re crying,” Eugene said softly, and strode over to the bed, carefully moving the cats in way of his sitting next to Snafu. “Something happened. Tell me; I’m here to listen.”

Delilah purred as he lifted her to his shoulder and buried his face in her fur, hoping to hide the next burst of tears.

“Okay. I don’t know what this is about, and I want you to tell me, at some point. But if you aren’t ready yet, that’s okay. Tomorrow’s Saturday though, and I’ve got nowhere to be. No extra classwork, no study sessions, no extra hours at work. Thought maybe that would mean we could stay up a little together. Do some reading, or just sit and relax, whatever you might want. If you want,” Eugene said, gentle as anything, and it made the tears fall even harder.

“I gotta borrow your dad, Delilah,” Eugene continued as Snafu set her down beside him, and she meowed at the loss of lap. “Y’all come on down and join us if you want, okay?”

A few meows and a tiny woof from Ack Ack answered him as he turned off the radio, then led Snafu downstairs, and Snafu knew they’d probably stay put. It was late now, nearly eleven at night, and the pets had their routine they didn’t like to deviate from, especially for bed time. It would also mean they wouldn’t get their bed back for the night as the cats would take it over, but there was always the guest bedroom.

“How was your day?” Eugene practically chirped, as cheerful as the birds he loved watching, though the bags under his eyes told a different story, or at least screamed a need for a decent night of sleep.

“Okay.”

��Just okay? You get a full day off of work and it’s just okay?”

Snafu shrugged. “Made gumbo. Spent most of the day in the kitchen, ‘cept for headin’ out to the market for a few things.”

Eugene stopped and stared at him as they reached the living room. “That’s all?”

“I don’t know,” Snafu snapped in spite of himself. “I cooked, and I tried to clean some while the supper was simmering, and the damn back door knob was loose again so I fixed that, and I kept the cats and dog in their food and cuddles for the day, and cleaned up the litter boxes and Ack Ack’s corner of the backyard, and-”

He sighed, exasperated. “I kept busy. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I’m not nearly as busy as you get, but I tried to make my day off something useful.”

Eugene took a deep breath, and Snafu braced himself. Eugene didn’t deserve that yelling, but he hadn’t been able to hold back, and he’d deserve whatever Eugene tossed back at him.

Instead, Eugene took his hand and kissed it. “I meant, did you do anything for you? Read something you like, listen to a good record? Hell, just take a nap?”

“Oh,” Snafu said, and shrugged. “No. I didn’t do any of that.”

“Sounds like we got stuff to do tomorrow then, to catch you up on some relaxin’,” Eugene smiled. “Come on. Come lay on the couch and be lazy with me.”

“It’s gonna be midnight before we know it,” Snafu said. “Not that I don’t want to, but you need to sleep-”

“There some law against fallin’ asleep on the couch with my man?”

Snafu grinned. “No, there isn’t.”

“Well then, I say we’ve got a reservation over here,” Eugene tugged gently on his hand, pulling him till they both fell back on the couch together, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I missed you today.”

The lump in his throat was back again, the tears threatening to fall again, his heart hurting again as they adjusted to lay more comfortably on the couch, and he tried to respond without his voice breaking. “Missed you too.”

“You gonna talk to me now?” Eugene murmured as they snuggled close. “C’mon. You know I’m not gonna let you sit all melancholy like y’are right now. Out with it.”

“…I shouldn’t be upset by it. Because it’s a good thing,” Snafu sighed.

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere!” Eugene’s voice rumbled in his chest, pressed as close as they were, his back to Eugene’s chest, Eugene’s arm draped over him. “But maybe this good thing isn’t good for you?”

“It’s good for someone I love, so it should be good for me too,” Snafu replied. “Because I love them, and I want good things for them.”

“Well that’s…good,” Eugene said, then chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean whatever this is couldn’t still upset you somehow. Can’t help how things make you feel, sometimes.”

“I know. But…”

“You can tell me what it is, you know that,” Eugene whispered.

“Alright. I…it’s been a little difficult. Without you home at night. Eatin’ dinners alone, goin’ to bed alone even some nights. And then when you do come home-”

Snafu cut himself off with a sigh and resisted the urge to turn and bury his face into Eugene’s chest, and not say anymore. “When you do, as much as I love hearing about your new friends, and I do, I really do, I swear it, sometimes it feels like that’s all we talk about, and then it’ll be so late it’s already time for bed and then the sun rises and we do it all over again and I miss you.”

He turned then, and focused on the beat of Eugene’s heart near his ear as he continued. “I’m proud of you in a way I can’t even put words to, because it just overwhelms me, you goin’ back to school and all. And I’m happy you’ve made friends, because you should! It’s good. But sometimes I miss that little bit of extra time we had, for just us. Even though I know that we’ll still find that time again, in one way or another, because things can’t stay the same forever, but gold still glitters even after you melt it down and make it into something new.”

Eugene was silent, and Snafu fought the urge to break away from him and run upstairs, to avoid the storm that his words were surely going to bring. Granted, Eugene had never been that way with him, but other lovers had in the past, and he never wanted to make Eugene that sort of upset, but if anything would…perhaps this would.

“God, Flea was right. I always tell him how mad I am that he’s the smartest asshole outta all of us in the classroom, and now I gotta tell him he was right again, and he’s smartest about things like this too.”

Snafu moved his face out of Eugene’s chest. “Things like this?”

“He told me tonight, that he could tell last time we were all hangin’ out together that you seemed like you felt left out, and that he couldn’t believe that the man I described to them could be the same as the quiet and sad-lookin’ man I’d brought with me that day. And I figured maybe you were just tired or had a rough day at work and I didn’t ask…and I should have asked. I’m sorry, Snaf.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Snafu said as he carefully moved Eugene’s arm and sat up. “I’m bein’ a damn fool over this. I’m a grown man, actin’ like a child because I’m not gettin’ enough attention.”

“No,” Eugene protested softly, and sat up so he was right beside him, their thighs touching and Eugene’s hand reaching for his. “You’re my husband, and you love me, and so you’ve been missin’ me and I didn’t notice, and that’s not right. I been watchin’ you go about your night after I get home, but I wasn’t paying any attention, and I should have been.”

“I gotta do the same for you,” Snafu said.

“You have been! Who else would listen to me blabber on and complain about school, talk for hours about the dumb shit those boys at school tell me? You’ve been lookin’ right at me, keepin’ your eyes trained on me to keep me feeling happy and loved, and I looked back but I looked right through you,” Eugene replied. “No more of that. I promise.”

The tears slipped down his face yet again before he could stop them, and he could hear Eugene’s soft sound of confusion as he closed his eyes and chuckled.

“Happy tears, I promise. I’ve never had anyone I was with react like this. I was waitin’ for yellin’ and carryin’ on, so this is,” Snafu shook his head and laughed. “This is so reassuring and wonderful and I…I just love you so damn much.”

Eugene’s arms wrapped around him, and held him tight. “I love you too, and I’m gonna show you just how much more often. Starting tonight.”

“I think you did just now,” Snafu said. “But if you’ve got something else in mind, you know I don’t often say no to you.”

“We’re gonna have to kick the cats off the bed for it,” Eugene smiled and kissed him softly.

“You mean pick them up and carry them into the guest room, and drag Ack Ack’s bed in there since he likes sleepin’ with ‘em so much?” Snafu asked against Eugene’s lips before kissing him back, letting his hand move to wrap around Eugene’s neck, a thumb caressing his cheek.

“Exactly,” Eugene said as they parted lips, foreheads still touching. “You ready for bed?”

“I am. Now that you’re here with me,” Snafu sighed, and held Eugene’s hand tight as they stood and headed for the stairs. He couldn’t believe he’d ever gotten so lucky, that the universe had given him so sweet a man.

But he was so happy to have him, to be his forever, and to know now more than ever, that Eugene was his always as well.

#text post #ask box things #Sledgefu #this was so much fun to write!! my dear sweet boys #thank you again for sending this in!!#xmxisxforxmaybe #LeeH writes

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

summer slipped us underneath her tongue (scyvie) - ageofyvie

author’s note: i’ve finally found the courage to submit something i wrote so here you are a scyvie cisgirl au set during summer bc i’m a sucker for seasonal fics! if you guys like this one i might write more in the future. also feel free to come and say hi on my blog @ageofyvie. i’m a virgo so i’m really nice 💜

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Yvie almost jumped out of her skin. She quickly turned around to look at the person who had just spoken, her eyes wide in panic as she tried to come up with an excuse of why she was laying around in her neighbour’s pool at half past midnight. Tension left her body the instant she recognized who the other girl was and an idle smirk appeared on her face as she swam closer to the border.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Yvie replied, leaning against the marble. Despite the nonchalant vibe she was trying to give off, she couldn’t help but falter a little at the sight of the redhead in front of her. The pearly white babydoll she was wearing as a pijama glimmered under the light of the garden lamps, and Yvie felt her throat going dry.

Scarlet pursed her lips and stepped closer to the pool, crossing her arms on her chest to showcase annoyance. She was just about to tell the other girl off when she noticed a pile of clothes laying messily on the ground. “Are you naked?” She shrieked in outrage, realizing a moment later that she should have probably kept her voice down. Thank God her moms were on a weekend trip out of town.

“Relax” Yvie answered, lazily moving her arms and legs a couple of times to reach the center of the pool. “Skinny dipping is fun, you should try it” Scarlet wanted to scream. Normally she would have responded to the teasing with one of her witty comments she was so infamous for, but after the exhausting day she’d had of arguing once again with her boyfriend, all Scarlet wanted to do was to go bed and sleep. The redhead took three more steps and in what she knew was her most intimidating tone, she ordered Yvie to leave. “Get out. Now” “Or what? Are you gonna call the cops?” “Now!”

Yvie sighed and swam closer to the edge. She looked at Scarlet straight in the eyes, a mischievous glint lighting up her gaze, and in one, effortless move, she put her palms on the marble border and pushed herself out of the pool.

A strangled cry left Scarlet’s lips. Too shocked and dumbfounded to do or say anything, the girl simply stared at the other, observing her toned body as she walked towards the scattered clothes and picked them up from the ground. Yvie could feel the redhead looking at her and took a bit more time than necessary to put her underwear and shirt back on, turning to look at Scarlet once she had finished. “You’re still staring” She singsonged, her smirk turning into a wide when she noticed the flushed colour on the other’s cheeks and upper body area.

Her words snapped Scarlet out of her trance-like state and in a matter of seconds she was back to her normal and very much annoyed self. The curse she had in mind died on her lips as a fully-clothed Yvie had now begun to walk away “Where are you going?” Scarlet found herself asking instead, biting down on her bottom lip as she realized what she had just said. Yvie stopped in her tracks and turned to face the redhead. “Do you want me to stay?” She replied instead, trying not to sound as hopeful as she actually felt.

“I have a boyfriend” Scarlet retorted automatically, and while her words were technically directed at Yvie, she couldn’t help but feel as if the reminder was more for herself than for the other girl. At that, Yvie shrugged and looked away in hopes to conceal the disappointment. She resumed walking towards the fence which divided the two gardens, resolute in her intention of ignoring the redhead’s presence and the feeling of her eyes on her. However, once she had swung one leg over the rail, she gave in and looked at Scarlet one last time. “Goodnight Princess” She called out before jumping off and disappearing in her own courtyard.

“Goodnight” Scarlet replied, though her voice was way too low for the other to hear. She stayed in the garden for a minute after that, just appreciating the feeling of the warm summer breeze on her skin. Eventually, the redhead made her way back into the house. After shutting the doors of French window behind her, she leaned against the cool glass and sighed.

[To Brooke]: I think I have a crush on Yvie.

#rpdr fanfiction #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #scyvie #cisgirl au #summer au #lesbian au #ageofyvie

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sol-korolevas · 6 years

Text

promise;

(a/n: i just played the latest chapter for the arcana and i’m emotional. so have a quick fic since ‘ve always wanted to write for the argana. spoilers for the latest chapter are in there, so be warned! also unedited bc i wrote this on my phone. )

you traced a glowing red swirl in the air as asra slept beneath you. its shape then scattered into shimmering stardust as you broke the spell. asra was mumbling in his sleep.

his chest gently pushed up and down with each intake of breath, reminding you of those blissful nights back in the shop.

the beach was quiet and serene, a retreat far away from the masquerade, and from lucio himself. but deep inside, you knew that you must return. you cannot see lucio win.

you have to save your friends.

something else lingered on your mind too. the re-appearance of asra’s parents made you curious, and even concerned for his wellbeing.

as if he sensed your emotions, asra’s eyes slid open. “mm, good morning,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up. his clothing was wrinkled, but fortunately you got to see plenty of skin.

wordlessly, you leaned yourself against him, still not yet ready to distance yourself from him. a part of you wasn’t sure when you two will be separated again, so this was just a precuation.

“it’s been morning forever, dummy,” you said with a teasing smile. in one motion, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “but yeah, good morning.”

your naked chest pressed against his and it was the most exciting feeling you’ve ever known. all of the pressure and stress, for now, evaded you. asra never minded your bursts of neediness; in fact, he indulged in it. you felt his strong arms around your, holding you close as a sigh escaped his mouth.

“i can’t wait to feel you in my arms like this, back in the real world,” asra murmured.

“once we stop lucio then i will make sure every morning we wake up like this,” you said, sliding one hand up to comb through asra’s hair.

“you were talking in your sleep, you know that?” you then said.

tentatively, you drew yourself back to watch asra’s reaction. at first, his face was pulled into a confused stare. then, it gradually fell into a forlorn sadness.

“i miss them, (name),’ he responded, taking a hold of your wrist.

you already knew who he was referring to, as asra started tracing light patterns on your palm. the movements followed a magic pattern that left thin trails of the same nebulous stardust you’ve seen him conjure before. you watched, starry eyed, as sparkling particles rose from the creases of your palm.

“i still remember my parents, i was young but i still remember,” he began, eyes still cast to the magic upon your flesh. “they told me, ‘asra, if you ever lose us, just think of the stars.’ i never knew what they meant, but it’s because i was young.”

he brought your open palm to his mouth, and pressed a gently kiss upon it. you felt yourself shudder at the touch, heart fluttering and skin tingling.

“then i realized that they might think one day they will leave, maybe they will become the stars or something.”

he grabbed your shoulder and drew you to him. you were comfortable in letting him talk, so you remained silent.

“i miss them, (name), i miss them so much.” his body started shaking and you knew he was crying. but you were never one to know how to say kind words. you were never good with words in general. so instead, you rose and took his cheeks into your palms. carefully, your thumbs stroked over his wet cheeks, hoping this small gesture coul be of some comfort to him.

“i’m here asra, don’t worry,” you spoke, quietly. in truth, you didn’t know what to tell him. a part of you wanted to find some way to return his parents to him. but that in itself was a risk that cannot be taken.

“i just–i just don’t want you leave me too,” he said, leaning his forehead against his.

his words sounded almost like a prayer, so breathless and desperate that you couldn’t find it in yourself to doubt anything.

and, really, you wouldn’t leave him. neither lucio nor the devil himself can rip you from asra.

“i won’t, i promise.”

#asra x reader #asra route #asra the magician #the arcana game #err my first arcana fic so expect some errors?#i'm sorry

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theoraclehealer · 3 years

Text

Jung, mysticism and psychopomp signature.

Sept 28, 2017

chiron and carl jung

and the zodiac signs

taurus has to ascend. what does that even mean, right?

as i sat with this, i imagined somehow seeing a taurus - bull - rise up into the air and go up the heavens. I’m clueless.

so i sat with this some more and thought about the introvert, as she seems to be in need of the most help here.

there always comes a time when i have these breathing episodes and everything runs amok.

for example:

ok, how bad is this?

how bad will this be?

and then i have to sit with it and see if i reach a point where it will just stop or carry on for a bit longer. this morning’s episode was awful (i still blame the seroquel). there are many tricks that i will try - reasoning my way through it, sounds, rescue remedy, coffee, water, contemplation, whatever … but then ill even try talking to myself but out loud, pretending someone is there with me.

focus has been a BIG theme here … but now I’m realizing that its actually human connection.

so ill talk out loud and see if that works.

but this morning was difficult - it changed a lot but was also more stubborn until i started to realize just how bad this sheer terror is that i have around death.

i contemplated a couple of times whether or not i wanted to call 9/11 but that proved to be problematic for a few reasons - one namely, i was home alone and was stuck upstairs so i couldn’t really go all the way down stairs and then upstairs and then change my clothes, find my shoes, make sure the dogs were okay, etc.

but in my mind, it was clear to me that i just wanted someone around and sadly, other than my mom, EMS workers are my only shot.

how difficult is it to heal from all of this … on my own?

narcissistic abuse … emotional deficits all over the place … sheer terror … profound rejection

and yet no one to look to in the eye.

no one to “pull you out of it” when you need it the most.

so it could be that the introvert would have gotten hurt at any time because in the end, she’s the traumatized one. and now in order to get taurus to ascend, i have to find her and tell her it’s okay … but ask me if i believe that it will be?

theres a chakra component here though and as i started to type this, i felt the shift in my lower chakras rise. i saw a red/pink light in the distance.

i have lost the passion for life and living. because my life was taken from me. all of it. blindsided and then burned. you wake up and its ALL gone because YOU understand the gravity of the disaster that you will now have to face, its a sense of knowing.

the people around me are tired to me.

i was in love with something before. it wasn’t a man but it was … the air. the moon. the sun. and the stars.

isn’t it great? she thought.

and now the world around HER this time, not God … has grown dark.

its take a great amount of effort to get out of the house.

because i generally don’t care.

whats in it for me?

so i drifted off to the left, to look around and think.

i realized the contemplative aspect of me has also severely suffered. another I in NFP.

but it was then that i realized who she was and we reconnected.

morissey’s - how soon is now? ran through my head.

then out of the corner of my eye, i could see my phone lighting up but it wasn’t a notification - it was red, orange and yellow - and i heard “its a bird” and by the flames that encompassed this image, i could tell it was the phoenix. i smiled.

my left arm said “i want my life back”

and was happy for about a few seconds but then stopped because … life.

the magic doesn’t uplift me anymore.

i want to be concrete for a time and see that life can be mine again. but i feel like i am owed something … from someone and yet all avenues are shut.

chiron told me i had a job to do.

isn’t that always the case?

even if i found $50,000 and i moved out … my health is still bad. the nebulizer is the bane of my existence.

i have gone through so many phases where i THINK I’m going to ween myself off of it and then there’s a kick back … of something i don’t understand … but last time, i blame the sleep study. and again, even as smart as i am and as intuitive as i am … with my history, someone should have stepped in and said “no way … lets talk this out instead because you matter”.

everything comes … after the fact.

even the help.

—————

things worth mentioning bc it gets so sticky throughout the day - i have been having upper back pain and have had to lay on the floor and hearing some pops around my neck but the pain is around c4. i suspect the seroquel relaxed things TOO much and through this nerve into a mess. laying down doesn’t help but sleeping in the chair is causing numbness and tingling in my hands again. I’m getting pain in my infraspinatus - both sides. this can be the only thing that i can think of that causes weird and sudden attacks, randomly.

the episodes take forever to resolve. and the pain at SI9 gets worse when i have these episodes ... very local and sharp pain.

something else to note, i don’t know the stages in which the healing happens ... with the vertebrae ... passions and love ... C4 ... insane heartbreak and emotional neglect and lack of emotional support.

and then things calm down, after i get so angry because of the physical damage/repair thats STILL happening ... and you realize just how many layers you have to build UP and not work through ... to get to the emotional body ... and where intuition comes from as you’re doing acupuncture on a client and you see a blue/purple small round light appear on your left pointer finger and you hear “john lennon” is your intuitive guider of principles long forgotten like “love is all you need” because love makes you feel like you can overcome ANY of your demons. Victor said that when we were talking last year, that he felt more stable.

——

hindsight is 20-20 right?

Elizabeth Thorson told me that unless i get grounded, I’m not going to know what work I’ve done will stick.

That was …. about 8 months ago and THIS is how long its taking me … after her esteemed shamans all failed.

“love is all you need”

———————-

so at the end of the day, this has not been an uplifting journey. and i have a new definition of “enlightenment”.

but I just did a search online for remedies for herniated discs and came across st johns wort oil and elderberry.

i had been told by “myself” that i didn’t need the elderberry anymore.

funny enough, muscle pain and tension has been an issue ever since … and thats exactly what one website said it helps with.

pisces sabotage.

and where has the help from the other dimensions been for this?

and whats a firefly? and why was it getting in my way today?

this is all going to end up wrapping up and i have no say in anything. it has to happen and i don’t want to stay like this but there is no book or teacher that i have here on earth to reassure me that things are indeed winding down.

my entire life has been trauma. and many things happen suddenly. my death happened suddenly and has been MORE trauma.

I’m running into problems talking to some clients about things like … their grief bc instinctually, i pull from experience and can only be as “fake” honest as i can be, knowing they’re not going through what I’m going through.

but when the extra energy and interference is gone, what work is left for me to do? how quiet will life be? will it be a rough transition? and how much longer will i be alone? my mouth keeps saying … as if being fed words from the left … but think of how fruitful your life is going to be! and i go … prove it.

——

and as i try to just sit with what i just wrote, i also sit with one of my other selves who seems to be championing me … trying to tell me that she’s going to help me take melatonin tomorrow … and if she’s not here, to take it at 9pm.

THIS alone triggers my biggest fear but i should be allowed to …. SIT.

my eyes go to the keyboard … “christine’s biggest fear is coming up! meows!”

and now i have that on my mind … unless i just keep typing.

but is the electricity too much for me today?

FUCK.

spiritual awakening or spirit murder? this journey has been horrible.

————

lets talk.

so you’re all full of shit.

I’ve been astral traveling day in and day out to heal … myself.

taoist astral gods of healing.

i can call on whomever i need in a pinch.

but i “step outside” of myself to try and gain a different perspective right?

but she sees things i cannot.

i just wish there was more information because then i would have been more willing … and just allowed it to happen with an understanding.

theres other things going on that i am “feeling” out … and i suspect MY spirits are the ones swirling around, swiping shit away.

i started to become more and more suspicious of “the spirits reside within” … until you derail in the most horrifying way possible and they have to step in and do the work.

“we want our girl back!!!” - said to Petra who didn’t spend any time in exploring this with me. i dissociated but i didn’t black out. i heard the whole thing. she just watched …. and probably thought “ohhhh a case study … how freudian”

so who’s in my eyes?

I’ve already suspected a few things here … but i get the shen, liver, gall bladder and the bladder and the eyes.

i get that the shen scatter with trauma but something is a-miss.

——

earlier today, twice at least, i thought of arielle and her death. she died in her sleep. and i had been talking to a client about this tonight and said that we all have these experiences, day in and day out and while its not easy (she was struggling with losing her friend recently), its better to allow yourself the time to process it. i had shared with her the complications of dealing with my own death and coma, along with dealing and processing arielle’s. she died in her sleep and i fear dying in my sleep … and its two-fold because i now have a coma to contend with. its hard to figure this one out as its a lot of imagery more so than words attached to a feeling … and this could be the curse of an empath.

she was so young. when she initially came through, whether it was her or not, i was feeling something different towards her than others … i was shut down a bit and well, on some level, feeling at one with her.

“hey - hows it going - this shit is nuts right?”

“I’m sorry you’re dead, arielle.”

you’re DEAD.

#carljung chinesemedicine coma death dyng freud infj infp introvert jung myersbriggs psychopompsignature shamanism sigmundfreud theshen zodia

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winkinglester · 7 years

Text

Run, Baby, Run

*sequel to Tech Yes, Juliet*

summary: dan and phil’s relationship is a secret until it isn’t, which is bad because they’re in feuding majors at their university

word count: 4.2k

genre: fluff

warnings: slight angstë?? also swearing

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE! i have gotten so many requests to do a sequel to tech yes and i finally gave in and this took 48 years but w/e. ps don’t ask what sport the feud games are bc i don't know

Their library make-out sessions were becoming a normal thing. Phil would have Dan pushed up against the historical fiction shelf, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, smiling at the little groans and pants Dan makes when he’s turned on. They were never worried about getting caught since who the fuck reads historical fiction anyways?

“Hey,” Dan had said. It was the first time Phil brought Dan back there to their current make-out spot, and Dan got upset when he learned as to why. “I read historical fiction.”

“You must be the only one,” Phil had said, leaning in closer to Dan. Dan laughed into their kiss.

The memory had Phil smiling into their current kiss. Quiet voices nearby, however, interrupted them.

“Shh,” Dan whispered suddenly, pulling away from Phil. “Someone’s coming.” Phil leaned back from Dan and smoothed out his shirt, trying to erase any evidence that anything had just happened. Ehem.

Two girls passed by the front of the isle just as Dan had dropped to the ground, pretending to be searching for a book in the bottom shelf. They didn’t give the boys more than half of a glance.

As soon as they had passed, Phil gave a silent breath of relief. “God, why do we have to keep it a secret, Dan? It’s so tiring.”

Dan looked up at Phil through tired eyes. “You know why. We would never hear the end of it if we came out. ‘Wait, you two are dating? I thought you were in feuding majors!’ And then there’s my parents…” He said this sounding slightly exasperated, causing Phil to back off.

“I know, I know, I just…I don’t want to keep us a secret forever, I guess,” Phil said, reaching down to help Dan up.

Dan sighed, climbing back on to his feet. He left his hands in Phil’s. “I understand, Phil, and I swear someday we can shout it from the rooftops. I won’t depend on my parents anymore, so it won’t matter what they think. I’m gonna kiss you in front of a million bajillion people. I swear.”

Phil smiled. “Million bajillion isn’t an actual number, you know.”

“I’m a tech major, Mr. English.”

“I won’t forget that any time soon.”

Ever since the day Phil figured out who his secret admirer was, they had salvaged every moment they had together, from cheeky hand squeezes in the empty halls to suggestive glances in busy classrooms.

Dan and Phil only struggled somewhat to keep their relationship private. The only person they had told was Dan’s roommate Charlie, who couldn’t care less. They hadn’t told PJ yet since he wasn’t in the dorm much in general. He was usually out with a girlfriend, or something.

Phil was pretty sure that nobody else knew, or was suspicious, because nobody had ever asked him about Dan. Really, though, why would they? Dan was a tech major, and Phil was an English major. The only thing about them that overlapped was that they had the same taste in music. They were polar opposites, and yet that’s what made them such a good couple.

Scattered, passionate screams filled the air. A few hundred people had turned up for the feud game, which was small considering it was the biggest game of the year. Techies would play the English majors, which was usually a pretty fair fight. (There was always some bias since the referee majored in English, but that was beside the point.)

Dan smiled and looked across the field. In the other stands, alone, Phil sat. Dan knew it was Phil since everyone else seemed to care about sports, and yet one person sat alone, facing the wrong way. Plus, nobody else was that pale.

“What’re you staring at, dude?” PJ asked, slinging an arm around Dan’s shoulder. Dan’s eyes widened and he laughed nervously.

“Nothing, man, just watching the game,” Dan muttered. “Anyways, how are things with you and that girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” PJ said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re never sleeping in the dorm, I just assumed…” Dan said sheepishly.

“I don’t have a - wait. You must mean Chris,” PJ said. “Yeah, I usually spend the night at his, just since it’s usually late by the time we’re done.” PJ winked. “I gotta run, so see you later!”

“A- alright. See you,” Dan said. Who would’ve thought?

Dan stepped off the bleachers, heading towards the other side.

“Oi, Dan, where you headed?” Charlie shouted, trying to be heard above the roaring crowd.

“Concessions stand,” Dan lied.

“Right, get me a Coke!” He yelled, throwing some cash in Dan’s direction. Dan rolled his eyes and made his way towards Phil, and apparently the concessions, too.

Dan stood in line for the concessions, messing around on his phone mindlessly. His eyes widened as he felt a hand on his lower back.

“Guess who,” a familiar voice said.

Dan grinned. “Hey, uh, pal. How are you?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Doing good, bro.” Phil lowered his voice and leaned towards Dan. “After you get your drink, feel free to stop by the edge of the bleachers. I have something to show you.” Dan almost shivered.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, will do,” Dan stammered. Phil smirked and walked away.

Dan practically threw his money at the cashier.

After he got Charlie’s soda, Dan rushed to the bleachers. He was looking around in a totally-not-suspicious way when a quiet “Psst!” caught his attention. He turned around to see Phil peeking out from underneath the seats.

Dan laughed and walked over to his boyfriend. “Come on, Phil, tell me you’re more creative than making out under the bleachers.”

“Hush, you.”

Shrill alarm beeps were probably Dan’s least favorite sound. Charlie reached over and silenced the clock, but Dan could still hear them somewhere far away.

“Dan, you ready for the game tonight?” Charlie asked, climbing out of his bed.

Dan groaned sleepily, since it was barely past six am. “Maybe, but I don’t want to think about it right now!”

“Sheesh, sorry mate. Didn’t know you woke up with a stick up your ass,” Charlie responded, laughing and pulling his shoes on. “I’m off to the bathroom.” He walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Dan groaned again. He only got a few hours of sleep, thanks to the essay he spent, like, nine hours working on. Maybe it would’ve taken less time had he not left all of his revisions to the last minute, but whatever. He would try again next time.

Rolling out of bed, Dan grabbed for his phone and knocked over a glass instead, sending water across the room and all over-

“FUCK, MY LAPTOP!” Dan yelled, swiping his already shitty computer from its watery grave. He wrapped a towel around it, chanting “dab not rub, dab not rub, dab not rub” under his breath.

“Please, please, don’t be dead, I need you, I need the essay I wrote, please,” Dan whispered, pulling the towel away and pressing the power button.

The screen flashed a brief, cheerful Welcome! and proceeded to the login. Dan sighed in relief. He typed his password and pulled up Word, only to see no recent documents.

“What the hell?” Dan muttered, his typing getting frantic. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?” Charlie said, reappearing from the bathroom, a toothbrush in hand.

“My essay, from last night, I spilled water, it’s gone, my essay that took like nine hours is gone, and if I don’t find it in five seconds I’m going to scream, where is it?” Dan exclaimed, eyes wide and fearful.

“Dan, Dan, relax. Don’t run so many tabs at once, you’ll crash it,” Charlie said gently, pulling the laptop away from Dan.

Dan ran his hands through his fringe, cursing under his breath. Charlie squinted and typed something on Dan’s computer, muttering to himself. After a minute, Charlie gave one final tap on the keyboard and shook his head. “I’m sorry Dan, but it’s gone.”

“Fuck, man,” Dan groaned, running his hands through his hair again. “It’s due in a few hours, there’s no way I can finish.”

“I’m sorry mate, that sucks. I gotta run, so I’ll see you later,” Charlie said, giving one last pitying glance and heading out.

Dan gathered his things and headed out a minute later, dreading the day in front of him.

“Mr. Howell, not your best work,” Dan’s music professor said, handing him a graded assignment with a big red F on it. Dan sighed. He knew he had done bad, but he really didn’t think he had done this bad.

With his lost essay (that he tried to redo, but only got halfway through before it was taken for a measly half grade), his somewhat-damaged laptop, and stepping in dog shit on his way here, the F on the essay was a fantastic cherry on top of Dan’s day. All he wanted was to go back to his dorm and sleep it all away, but of course he couldn’t. Great.

The class dismissed, shaking Dan from his thoughts. He grabbed his bag and stormed out the door, not caring if he bumped people on his way out. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck today.

“Dan, wait up,” someone behind him said, panting and putting their pale hand on his shoulder. “Hey, not trying to ditch me are you?”

“Phil, not right now, I’m kind of pissed off and I just want to finish the day,” Dan muttered, shrugging Phil’s hand off his shoulder. “And stop putting your hand on my shoulder, someone’ll get suspicious.”

Phil withdrew his hand, looking stung. “Sorry, I just want to be able to touch you, even innocently. I wish we could tell people.”

“I know, I know,” Dan muttered, feeling almost embarrassed. God, why couldn’t Phil just take a hint and leave him alone for just one minute? “I’m just having a shit day and I’m really not in the mood so please just leave me be. And besides, you know why we can’t tell people.”

“Sorry, it’s just…hard. I hate having to think about every damn thing I say, Dan!” Phil said, his voice starting to raise with frustration. He tugged his boyfriend around a corner for privacy. “I can’t just hide forever. It’s been five months,” Phil finished, seeming exasperated.

Dan pulled out of Phil’s grip once again, a small voice telling him to calm down. He ignored it. “I’m just…” He took a breath. “I know. Fuck. I know. Give me time.”

With that, Dan turned and walked to his next class, leaving Phil behind him.

Dan rolled over again. And again. And again.

He couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was going to be hell.

He reached over to the small cardboard box they were using as a nightstand to grab his phone. 4:27 in the morning. Great.

Dan sighed and suppressed a groan. He had so many things on his mind, why did he expect to get any sleep? Finals, his laptop, his slowly declining grades, and now Phil. He had been lying in bed for hours, tossing and turning. Dan half-slept for a blissful eight minutes, but was woken up by someone slamming their door down the hall. Damn you, drunken teenagers.

Phil would probably know how to deal with this, Dan thought. Phil would get me some tea and run his hands through my hair right now. He might still be up; I could text h-

Shit.

Dan grabbed his phone and quickly pulled up the last text he sent to Phil, from the day previous. He had forgotten to text him goodnight, something they always did.

Then again, Phil didn’t text him either.

Dan didn’t hold back his groan this time. Why did this have to happen now? All he wanted to do was sleep, make up with Phil, pass his finals, safely tell his parents he wasn’t straight…

Maybe in the morning.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me?”

Dan opened one eye. Why did people want to talk this early in the morning? He barely slept last night, so today was probably going to suck ass.

“Hm?” Dan groaned, slowly picking his head off his pillow.

“I- whatever.” Charlie turned and stormed out of the room.

“What the hell…?” Dan mumbled. Probably just moody and hungover, he thought. He hoped.

Dan got ready quickly, seeing as he was about to be late. Just as he was slinging his bag over his shoulder, he grabbed his phone off the duvet.

PHIL: we need to talk asap, call me

PHIL: dan please this is important

PHIL: meet me in the library at 9, u know where

Dan sighed. He really didn’t want to talk it out with Phil, not just yet. Maybe he could ask for a little more time. Yeah, that should do it, he thought. I can ask to have time to myself, and not to worry about this right n-

“Dan, shit,” Phil said, appearing out of nowhere to stand next to Dan between the historical fiction shelves. “I’m sorry, I have no idea how this happened.”

“Phil, I don’t want to talk about this right now. What happened yester- “

“Dan, this isn’t about yesterday. We got outed. Everyone knows.”

Dan felt his heartbeat thudding in his stomach, like he was about to be sick. “What the hell? How?”

The other boy shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe someone saw us at the feud game? Under the bleachers is an awfully cliché move.”

Dan closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. Maybe, if he pretended it was a rumor, nobody would care. He could ignore it.

“But hey,” Phil said, his voice soft. “At least we don’t have to hide it anymore.”

“Phil, what the fuck? I’ve been dreading this for months now, and all you say is ‘at least it’s over with!’ Really? This is not a fucking good thing!” Dan said, his voice beginning to rise.

“Come on, you said you wanted to be out and over with, I thought you wanted this,” Phil said, his eyebrows drawing together with confusion.

Dan leaned away. “No, Phil, that’s what you wanted. I don’t care what you think, this is never going to escape us. Not only will people freak out about the stupid feud shit, but someone’s gonna tell my parents eventually. My mom’s at the head of the board, my dad’s the biggest homophobe I’ve ever met…” Dan brought his voice down. “They’re gonna kick me out and I’ll never see you again. I’ll be lucky if I can still attend school here.”

“We can work it out, I swear,” Phil pleaded. “We can talk to your parents. It doesn’t have to get ugly.”

“It already is! Whether or not we want it, this is already bad!” Dan shouted.

“Wait, are you…ashamed of us?” Phil said taking a step back. He squinted at Dan.

“Maybe!” Dan said. “Maybe I don’t want to end up being the gay kid! Maybe I don’t want my life preceded before me! Maybe, just maybe, I knew that if I got outed, all of my attempts to establish a figure would disappear because ‘who cares about him? Sure, he’s done some cool stuff, but isn’t he the gay kid?’ I can’t be minimized to a sexuality, Phil. I fucking can’t.” Dan took a breath.

“Fuck you. Did it ever occur to you that maybe there’s nothing wrong with being gay? That turns out you can actually do shit without people minimizing you?” Phil spat. “Huh? Can you manage to get that into your head? Because there is nothing you can change about yourself. Not my fault you like it up the ass.”

Dan had never seen Phil so angry before, but all reason was out the window.

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m out.” Dan walked away from the shelf, before turning back around. “Literally,” he added with a bitter laugh. “See you around, maybe.”

Dan ignored Phil’s shouts behind him. His mind was made up.

Dan never understood how disgustingly perfect actions done on an adrenaline high were until now. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but he just continued to throw random clothes into a duffle bag. He just needed a walk to clear his head. A long walk, far away from here. With almost all of his things.

Packing a sorry excuse of an overnight bag, scribbling a small note, and sprinting off college campus went by more quickly than Dan expected. Everything caught up with him, however, while he stood waiting for whatever public bus route he was standing in the way of. He just needed to clear his head. Just clearing his head.

Dan was just clearing his head when he stepped on the bus and sat down in the middle. He was only taking a break when he got off at the ninth stop, right across from his favorite childhood playground. Time went by too fast again while Dan stepped off, headed into the small forest, and walked to the only place he knew. All he needed was to sit here, in the secret hiding spot he hadn’t touched in ten years, and think. Then, everything would be fine.

Fuck going to class, Phil, and everybody else in the world.

Dan sat in the bushes behind the shutdown community park. If nobody looked too closely, Dan remained hidden from the world. He would stay here, just for a moment. Just for long enough to catch his breath, take a break, and wrap his head around things. There was a small ditch filled with woodchips that Dan and his brother had originally used to try to save a hurt bird. The bird ended up dying.

Dan kind of felt like the bird.

After some time passed, Dan remembered that eventually, he would have to show up somewhere. Home and his dorm room weren’t options, so where?

“Shit,” Dan said to himself, putting his hands over his face as if he could shield himself from more stupid decisions. Shit shit shit.

And then, as if by miracle, Dan realized he had another option.

“Dan?”

The blonde haired girl raised her eyebrows in surprise, which was fair, since Dan showed up at her doorstep with little more than ‘hello’. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have to be at uni-“

“Lou, I love you, but I need you to not ask questions right now.” Dan pushed past his longtime friend, stepping into her apartment.

“Dan! You can’t just show up, unannounced, I have to…” Louise trailed off.

Dan ignored her. He knew he was being sort of an asshole, but a part of it felt justified. The worse your day was, apparently, the worse human being you could be.

“Look, I need to crash somewhere, and you’re the only person I know who won’t ask questions, just…please. Please. Not for long. I’ll be gone in two days, tops,” Dan said, dropping his duffel bag.

Louise sighed. “No questions at all?”

Dan smiled. “Not right now, but I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, fine. But if I get panicky calls from Phil, which I know will happen, what do I tell him?”

“Tell him…I’m clearing my head. Thank you, Louise.” Dan hugged his friend, who hugged him back cautiously.

Dan turned on the shower in Louise’s apartment. He stepped in, letting the water scald his skin. The water pressure was so much better here than at the shitty dorm bathrooms. Other than the heat, he couldn’t feel anything, not really. He wasn’t sad, or mad. He was just tired. He scrubbed his skin until it was red and raw, and then he scrubbed some more. He almost laughed despite himself when he borrowed Louise’s shampoo, since it was a “girly” scent. As if his masculinity was particularly strong these days.

After he finished showering, he looked in the mirror, wearing nothing but a towel. He barely recognized himself.

Dan sat in Louise’s lounge, relaxed on the couch next to her. Some random cooking show was playing at low volume, and Dan ignored another call from his phone, probably from Phil. He didn’t even check.

“Dan, you’ve been here for a day now, and you’re always welcome, but…what happened?” Louise said, turning towards Dan.

Dan drew in his lip and bit it. “Phil and I had a fight. We got outed and we had very different reactions.”

“Oh, honey, that’s something you can come back from,” Louise said, smiling. “The two of you are such a good couple, this isn’t the end.”

“Isn’t it though?” Dan asked, running his hands through his fringe. “I mean, Jesus, he asked if I was embarrassed of us.”

“Are you?” Louise cocked her head.

“Yes. No. Maybe?” Dan groaned. “I’m not embarrassed that I’m dating Phil, I’m embarrassed that I’m dating a boy and that people know. My parents are gonna disown me.”

Louise opened her arms and Dan leaned into them. He buried his head into her shoulder. “I’m fucked, Lou.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll be here for you, no matter what. The only person who can support you more than me, though, is Phil. You should call him,” Louise responded, rubbing her hands on Dan’s back.

“He’s gonna hate me, I bet,” Dan said, pulling away reluctantly. Louise gave him a look. “Or not. I’ll call him.”

Dan hit Call and felt his heart start racing. He stood up and headed across the flat for privacy. Pick up, pick up, he thought nervously. It kept ringing, until it stopped. The call went to voicemail.

“Fuck,” Dan sighed. He walked back into the living room to face Louise. “Can’t make amends if he doesn’t-“

Dan was cut off by the phone ringing. Call from: Phil<3

Louise gave him two thumbs up. Dan took a deep breath and pressed Accept Call.

“Phil, I-“

“What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just disappear whenever you’d like! I was worried sick about you, and I couldn’t stop coming up with scenarios where you’d died or something, and nobody knew where you were, and Charlie was about to call the cops, and you didn’t even text anybody, and your note was pure shit, I mean ‘I’ll be back’ answers none of my questions whatsoever! Fuck, Dan!” Phil exclaimed, and went quiet. Dan took it as his cue.

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve picked up when you called, I just…wanted to ignore the world, or something, for just a day. When you told me that everyone knew about us it was like my brain shut down. I couldn’t think, I just needed to get out. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was scaring myself, to be honest. It was like, all of a sudden I was on a bus, with practically nothing, and I didn’t even recognize myself. I’m so sorry, Phil. I really hope you’re not gonna break up with me.” Dan braced himself for the worst.

“Dan, of course I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just hurt that the idea of people knowing about us is enough to make you run away.”

“I’m not embarrassed about you, really. I’m just not used to this.” Dan could practically see Phil nervously jamming his hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna try it, though. If you’ll be patient with me, I’m gonna try my best to roll with this.”

“You know I’m by your side,” Phil said quietly. Dan smiled even though Phil couldn’t see it through the phone.

“I’m gonna head back soon, meet me at my dorm in an hour?”

Phil laughed. “See you soon, nerd.”

Dan felt nervous as soon as he stepped back onto campus. Yes, he was ready, but fuck, he was still scared. He walked quickly, so maybe he could avoid the attention of the other students milling around. None of them gave him the time of day.

Dan struggled to unlock his door for a second too long, thanks to the shakiness of his hands. Once the door swung open, Dan was immediately greeted by someone hugging him tightly.

“Welcome home,” Phil whispered. Dan laughed and hugged him back.

“Shit, I missed you so much, Phil,” Dan said, squeezing Phil against him.

Phil nodded, and the two boys stood there for a minute, hugging quietly.

“If you’re just going to stand there, can you not block the door? A dude’s gotta pee,” Charlie said, appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

Dan jumped and Phil giggled. It was good to be back.

Dan and Phil walked together to their shared class, Music Theory. Halfway there, Phil slipped his hand into Dan’s. Dan fought the urge to pull away.

It’s fine, it’s fine, you’re out, Dan thought. This is normal.

In the corridor behind them, someone wolf whistled while someone else called out, “Techie traitor!” Dan felt his face heat up.

“If you want to stop holding hands, I’ll be alright,” Phil whispered to Dan.

Dan thought about replying, but decided to do something he’d normally never do.

New Dan, new Dan. He stopped in the middle of the hallway to kiss Phil. The whistles grew louder. Phil flipped them off, smiling into the kiss.

#as always i appreciate feedback!!#pls pls lmk what u think of this #my fics #fic #phan #phanfiction #phanfic #fluff

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thestoryweneededtowrite · 7 years

Note

spot and race defs get their shit together bc they start sexting as a joke but then realize both of them are SUPER into it

I’m not sure if this is a headcanon or a prompt so yes I support this and also I wrote a thing.

R: I wnt to touch u

The text message came through when Spot was staring angrily athis stack of reading as if that was somehow going to get the job done. Welcomingthe distraction, he scooped up his phone and read the message. The sender almostconfused him more than its content. Tony Higgins, who everyone seemed to callRace for a reason no one could explain. He was in one of Spot’s seminars andthey’d been paired together for a presentation, prompting the exchange of phonenumbers, but beyond that they’d nothing to do with each other. And now Race waspropositioning him? Spot texted back anyway – as weird as this was it was moreentertaining than Derrida.

S: How drunk are youright now?

The reply came almost instantly.

R: 4

R: On a scale 1 to 4

Race’s answer was evident in his poor logic and lack ofgrammar without the need for words. Spot was no stranger to guys who turned queerafter several drinks; it seemed university was full of people who got handsywith whoever was closest regardless of gender after a beer or two. It was finefor anyone straight. They could, and did, just laugh it off the next morning –if they even remembered what had happened at all. But Spot reckoned queer folkshad a lot more to lose by getting together with someone on a night out sincethere was every chance that person might turn around and say they weren’tinterested once they were sober. Spot was pretty such Race was one of thoseguys who just got too affectionate after some alcohol. He wasn’t going to playalong just to be mocked the next day.

S: Go to sleep Race

He hoped the text sounded as final to Race as it did to him,but a few seconds later another reply buzzed.

R: Cnt. At pary

Either Race was currently in a sword fight with someone, orhe was at a party; either was possible from his vague attempts to spell wordscorrectly. Spot decided the latter was probably most likely. He bristled at theidea of his texts being shown around a group of drunk, laughing people and wasglad he’d decided to largely ignore Race’s message. Had he been drunk himself,or had Race been queer, he might have responded in kind. When attractive peoplerandomly sexted you out of nowhere sometimes it was just good sense to go withit. Now was clearly not one of those times.

S: Oh

S: That explains alot

S: This is a dare?

Either alcohol or peer pressure had to be behind this.

R: Had t osext sum1

Clearly it was a little or both, but from the sounds of itRace was message hadn’t been solely concocted by his own brain and some beer.Spot gritted his teeth. He’d hoped uni would be the end of the pranks andteasing and joking around with him because he liked guys. Race seemed like adecent guy, in the little time they’d spent together, and Spot couldn’tunderstand why he’d willingly join in with what amounted to little more thanbullying.

S: And you pickedme…???

R: Random

R: But I’m glad u

Spot stared at the second message when it appeared on hisscreen. The tone seemed to have changed; he would have bet anything that Racehad stepped away from his friends and whatever game he was playing to continuethis conversation. It didn’t seem like something you’d want people reading overyour shoulder for.

S: Right…?

Spot typed back, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. Hewas still determined not to look like he was encouraging this, but he didn’treally want it to end either. Why was Race glad it was his name that had comeup? Because he knew Spot wouldn’t take it seriously, considering it was comingfrom a, presumably, straight guy? Or was there another reason?

R: I do wan to tocuhu

R: Yor’e hot

It took a couple of seconds for Spot to decipher Race’sdrunk texting but once he did he just blinked. And then confusion quicklyturned to bitterness and he tightened his hold on his phone. It was cruel tomock him like that just because he was out and proud. He could imagine Race onthe other side of the conversation, laughing to himself as he drunkenly decidedit was okay to say those things.

Spot typed out three last messages, sending them one afterthe other, before setting his phone aside screen-down and turning over to go tosleep.

S: And you’re drunk

S: Leave me alone

S: Go back to yourparty

The next day Race woke up far after his lectures had begunand ended. His head was still pounding and everything was a little blurry.Reaching for the headache tablets he kept just beside his bed for time likethese, he swallowed two of them dry. They scratched at his throat as they wentdown but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up to get water until he startedto feel a little less ill. To pass the ten minutes he had to wait for thepainkillers to take effect, he grabbed his phone and tried to assess the damageof the night before. Texts and snapchat replies and tweets were usually goodstarting evidence to work out what he’d done. The name at the top of his recentcontacts list chilled him to the bone. CuteIrish Seminar Boy. Otherwise known as Spot Conlon, the infuriating boy withdistracting cheekbones and a smirk that Race swore would have turned him gay ifhe hadn’t already played for both teams. Oh, this was not good. He prayed toany deity he could think of before he opened up the message log.

Reading it through he had to admit it could have been farworse. The truth or dare game came back to him, albeit slightly hazily, and he vaguelyrecalled being happy when it was Spot’s contact that had been chosen for him tosext. He could probably alleviate most of what he’d written by blaming alcoholbut there was still the underlying problem that he’d admitted to attraction. Andfrom Spot’s responses he was hurt by the conversation – that wasn’t how Racewanted to leave things. Swallowing his pride, he typed a quick apology.

R: I’m sry

R: Abt last night

He didn’t know how to go into detail. I’m sorry I hit on you. I’m sorry you were the person I had to text. I’msorry I hurt you?

It was only a second before a little bubble popped up totell him Spot was replying. He held his breath and waited for the dots in thebubble to change into letters, hoping the message wasn’t going to be one ofscorn.

S: Wow

S: You’re almost asbad at texting sober

It broke the tension, if that was what Spot was aiming for.Race managed a small laugh, surprised and relieved when it didn’t result in himwanting to throw up.

R: Shut up

It was a poor reply, but Race didn’t know what else to do.He was leaving the ball in Spot’s court – something that would turn out to beone of the best decisions he’d ever made.

S: So you want totouch me, huh?

S: Didn’t know youswung that way

Race liked where this was going. He wasn’t in the closet,exactly, but he was out on more of a need-to-know basis. Right now it seemedlike there was something intriguing to come of Spot knowing. Race knew he was gay,so if he was interested then… He typed a reply before he could talk himself outof it.

R: I swing evry way

R: & sure

R: U may be a dickbut u r attractive

It was a couple of minutes before Spot replied and Racemanaged to convince himself that he’d made a huge mistake. He could see thatSpot went to type something several times, but kept deleting it and leaving nothing.When a reply eventually came it was more difficult to interpret than Race wouldhave liked.

S: Thanks I guess

Still, that wasn’t a negative response. And Race figured hehad nothing to lose.

R: I wdn’t say no

S: Well I might

R: Wld you?

S: Are you stilldrunk?

Race snorted. He hadn’t had that much to drink. He was stilla little foggy but his headache was mostly gone and the room had stoppedspinning. If Spot was worried about taking advantage of a drunk guy then theydidn’t have a problem.

R: Hungover, nt drunk

S: And will you typein English?

R: Fine

It was an annoying condition to agree to – text speak wasn’tthat hard to understand and it was far quicker to type, Race was adamant – but itseemed like a small price to pay for whatever might be about to happen. Therewas no delay in a reply this time.

S: Then lock yourdoor and take off your clothes

There was a chance this was all a joke. Spot could beleading him on with the intention of humiliating him as retribution for themessages the night before but Race was hungover and he just couldn’t think itthrough without the world starting to tilt.

R: You serious?

He hoped the question would be enough to give Spot an out tofind some morality if this was all a big joke, but instead he got a far betteranswer.

S: No Skype no phonecalls no photos, just texts

S: But yeah, I’mserious

S: I need to get off

Race groaned. Given the choice he’d rather actually get tosleep with Spot but he wasn’t going to turn down the proposition. He wasn’twearing many clothes after the night before, he’d probably find them scatteredacross his room from the door to the bed, but he slipped off his boxers. If hewas going to do this, he was going to do it right.

R: Same

S: Clothes off?

R: Yeah

S: Tell me whatyou’re doing

Sometimes Race felt like he was in a polyamorous relationshipwith two other people: Spot, and Spot’s job. He was proud and supportive butthat didn’t mean he didn’t miss his boyfriend when he was away on businesstrips that lasted too long and were too frequent. They’d been together forseven years and Race had grown to love the domesticity and comfort – even ifthey’d started as friends-with-benefits who weren’t even really friends.

Thinking back over their relationship made him miss Spoteven more and soon he was subconscious reaching for his phone and sending atext.

R: Hey

Spot knew Race well by now. ‘Hey’ didn’t mean ‘hi’. ‘Hi’would have meant ‘hi’. ‘Hey’ meant ‘I want to talk to you.’ The message he sentback was an answer to the statement Race didn’t even need to say.

S: What’s up?

R: What are you doingright now?

Spot took a moment to appreciate the fact Race’s text speakhad gotten better over the years before looking around his rather Spartan hotelroom and sighing. He wanted to be home. Meetings were important for his job andhe knew that, but Race was important for his sanity.

S: Prepping for ameeting

It was partly true. It was what he was supposed to be doingbut he was more than grateful for the distraction Race was providing from staringat the ceiling and wishing he wasn’t in a the hotel of a conference centerseveral hours from home.

R: Want to prep forsomething else?

The insinuation seemed clear but they hadn’t done this sincethey’d officially gotten together and Spot wanted to make sure.

S: Race…?

R: You’re in yourhotel room?

S: Yeah

R: Lock the door andtake off your pants

The words had Spot grinning. It was what they’d alwaysmessaged each other with years ago when they’d wanted to start something. Hisdoor was already locked and he hadn’t bothered to get dressed that day yet, buthe still appreciated the old phrase. Even though he was far too far away fromRace, it meant him feel closer.

S: What are we doing?

He was being coy at this point. He knew exactly what theywere doing, but Race went along with it anyway.

R: Reminiscing. Forold time’s sake.

That was definitely something Spot could get on board with.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #spot/race #prompt #anonymous

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officialcarryonheadquarters · 7 years

Note

Snowbaz 1.4 please!

there was another anon who asked for this one too so i hope they see it here :D sorry it took a few days!! thank you so much for the prompt i hope you like it bc i freaking love soulmate aus and im so happy to have an excuse to write one

soulmate au: if you write/draw on your skin it shows up on your soulmate’s skin

words: 1.6k

warnings: lol none im an innocent

Baz hated soulmates. He hated all the couples walking around Watford with their cute little hearts scribbled on skin, mirrored on the other person. He hated that he knew who his soulmate was. And he hated most of all that he could never have him.

Baz had done extensive research trying to learn about the magic behind soulmate links. He couldn’t find out how to reverse it. He couldn’t find out how to reset it. But he did find a few old articles and papers of one-sided soulmates and Baz realized very quickly that once again he fell in with the less than one percent. The unfortunate ones.

When Baz was little, before his mum died, soulmates were his favorite thing. His mom and dad would write each other little messages on their arms and Baz dreamed of doing the same thing someday. He would doodle on his arm and write messages to his soulmate, but they never wrote back. His mum said that his soulmate must’ve just missed them.

Baz later found out in his third year of Watford that all of his embarrassing doodles and notes had ended up on the arm of none other than his sworn enemy (and roommate).

He’d decided to write a note on his arm, after 8 years of religiously keeping his skin clean. When it appeared on Snow, sleeping five feet away, Baz rubbed it off his skin until his arm was raw.

He never so much as traced a message on his arm again. Snow never found out.

~ Eighth Year ~

“Hey Baz?” Snow whispered into the dark.

Baz glanced at his alarm clock. 1 am. “Go to sleep, Snow,” he grumbled at the idiotic blonde on the opposite side of the room.

Baz could only make out his head and wild curls peeking out of the blankets in the faint moonlight of the fucking window Snow insisted they keep open year-round, even in the winter. Especially in the winter. As if Baz wasn’t already cold enough being a bloody fucking vampire.

“Who’s your soulmate?” Snow asked, persisting. As stubborn as a brick wall, with equivalent social skills. Baz tried to ignore the way his breath caught at the question.

“Excuse me?” Baz turned over to face Snow. He prayed the darkness would hide his eyes. They’d give him away in an instant. His trained apathy was useless at one in morning.

“Well, haven’t you ever written your soulmate?” He gestured at Baz’s arm.

“No.” Baz snapped, “have you?” he couldn’t help himself.

Snow stayed silent a moment and stared at the floor between them, “no… Agatha keeps asking me to try it. She wants to know whether we’re really meant to be together.”

“Then just doodle on your goddamn skin, Snow.” Baz said, turning his back towards Snow again and hoping Snow would drop the conversation.

“I don’t want it to not work,” he whispered, “what if it doesn’t work?”

He sounded heartbroken. Baz’s lifeless heart lurched at the thought. He’d never let himself dream that Snow could ever be his soulmate back. Because Snow was straight. Because they were enemies. Because nothing ever really seemed to work out in Baz’s favor. So Snow had to be Wellbelove’s soulmate, and she had had to be Snow’s.

“Then she’s not your bloody soulmate. Write on your damn skin already, I’m sure she’s your soulmate. The golden couple of Watford, happily ever after.”

Snow’s face turned red at that, “shut up.”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Baz snorted. Snow could never clapback. Talking wasn’t really his thing. Neither were spells. Or anything having to do with words, in general. Poor Bunce. Poor Wellbelove.

***

Baz wasn’t following Snow. Absolutely not. It was pure coincidence that Snow and Wellbelove didn’t notice Baz sitting a few feet behind them on the Great Lawn, reading his history assignment.

And Baz would’ve left, but he didn’t have the willpower.

“Agatha, I think I’m ready to try writing on my arm.”

“Fucking finally, Simon. You made such a big deal out of it for nothing.” Snow shrugged sheepishly at her words. He pulled a pen (Baz’s pen, his good pen, wanker must’ve stolen from his desk) and rolled up his sleeve.

He glanced up at Agatha, who rolled her eyes at his nervous expression. “Just do it, Simon.”

He reluctantly touched the pen to his arm and started writing slowly. Agatha didn’t roll up her sleeve. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

“Did it work? Lemme see it!” Snow reached out and turned over her wrist.

The whole world froze.

“It didn’t work, Simon. I think that means we’re not really meant to be.” Her voice sounded like ice. Baz could hear the blood pounding in Snow’s head. Or maybe it was his own, but he hadn’t been down to the catacombs in awhile.

“But—”

“You already knew it too, Simon.” She left him like that. Crumbled in the grass. Everything was silent, even the birds took a break from their incessant chirping, yielding to the golden boy broken in the grass.

“Fuck!” He shouted, finally. His green, smoky magic was coming off of him in rolling, nauseating waves. A first year twenty meters to Baz’s left threw up. A few third years scattered, trying to get out of Snow’s vicinity.

Baz left too. He knew he couldn’t watch Snow cry or go off, if he did he would lose it too. And if Snow caught Baz watching him, all of that lose magic would suddenly be concentrated on Baz and chances are it wouldn’t be friendly fire.

***

When Snow finally returned to the room that night, his cheeks were still stained with tears and the chicken-scratch on his arm was scrubbed raw, but still there.

Snow stopped next to Baz’s desk, foot tapping incessantly, “Well. You were wrong, you were wrong, Basilton. For the first time in your bloody perfect life.”

“You’ve still got a soulmate, somewhere. Just write them if you care so much.” Baz rolled his eyes. Snow was a damn mess.

Snow let out a clipped laugh, “Oh yeah? And why don’t you write your soulmate, then? Huh? What’s stopping you?” Snow hissed, throwing his school bag in the direction of his bed. He was burning up. The room was starting to smell like smoke.

“Because.”

“Because? Because?! Give me your fucking arm.” Snow snapped, reaching for Baz.

Baz recoiled from him. “Crowley Snow, calm down!”

“I’ll do it if you do.” Snow bargained, staring intensely at Baz.

“What?”

“I’ll write my soulmate if you write yours. We’re the only freaks in this school too scared to try it, for Christ’s sake.” Snow shrugged. He didn’t even bother to wipe away the tears rolling down his face. Baz was tempted to take it upon himself, but he let them fall to the uneven floorboards instead.

“Deal.” Baz didn’t really have anything left to lose at this point. Maybe Snow would finally take him out of his misery.

“Really?” Snow looked like someone slapped him and took a step back.

Baz smirked, “You’re going to back out of your own deal?”

“I, no—” he got flustered to easily.

“Then let’s get this over with.” Baz snagged a pen off his desk and turned over his wrist. Snow hopped up on Baz’s desk and did the same.

“On three.” Baz mumbled.

“One-”

“Two-”

“Three!” They exclaimed.

Baz drew a heart. He didn’t have anything to say to Snow. He watched Snow’s wrist as if he could see it forming under his sleeve.

Snow sat on Baz’s desk, staring at his opposite wrist intensely for a solid three minutes.

“Snow. Wake up.” Baz shoved him off his desk.

“When are they going to answer me?” He whined.

Baz shrugged, and made moves to exit the room. “I don’t bloody well know, Snow.”

“What did you write?” Baz blushed and held out his wrist.

“Oh, Merlin. That’s so much better than mine.” Snow mumbled. Baz grabbed Snow’s wrist, not surprised by the atrocious “HI” scrawled there.

Baz snorted as Snow shoved him the rest of the way out of the room.

***

Baz didn’t noticed it until he stepped into the shower. The atrocious, adorable, chicken-scratch “HI” scrawled on his wrist. His breath caught. It couldn’t be.

Or it could. The pounding on the bathroom door sounded like a fucking sledgehammer.

“Basilton fucking Pitch open the door! OPEN THE GODDAMNED DOOR!” Snow screamed. Baz scrambled out of the shower and tugged on his robe. He unlocked the door hesitantly and it creaked open painfully slowly, to reveal one very red, angry Simon Snow.

And then he charged.

“Anath-” Baz’s protests were silenced by Snow’s lips on his.

Snow backed Baz up against the sink, gripping Baz’s hips underneath white-knuckled fingers.

“Why did you keep it from me the whole time?” Snow panted, taking a half-step back, just enough to look up into Baz’s eyes. His hands were still tight on Baz’s hips and Baz’s hand dropped from Simon’s hair to his cheek.

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me Pitch, you knew this whole goddamned time.” Simon muttered, tracing circles on Baz’s stomach.

“I thought it was one sided. You were with Agatha four hours ago.”

“It’s not one sided. I just needed help figuring it out.” Simon mumbled, playing with them hem of Baz’s shirt. He wouldn’t look up, but Baz could see the blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Idiot.” Baz rolled his eyes, and Simon reached up for another kiss.

feedback welcome! ngl this is probably shit im sorry… sorry for any mistakes

~nat @thecruciblegavemeyou

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nct-thedreamchaser · 7 years

Text

Wedding Bells [Part 2]

Words: 4418

Genre: Fluff, fluff and mORE fluff

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Request: hellu~ do you mind doing a super super fluffy Jaehyun one bcs he sure is ruining my sleep with his cute ass face omg thankuuuu in advance 😍

A/N: Wew! This chapter is longer than expected but here is the final part for Wedding Bells! I was contemplating whether I should split it into 3 parts instead, however, as I did a proofread, it would make no sense if I did so and so here it is! I’m not sure whether I fulfilled the request fully, but I sure did try to add the element of fluff in this chapter. <3 I was inwardly fangirling as I wrote this, so I hope that you guys would do the same. ^^ Thank you anon for requesting this and I really hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) Finally, the askbox and submissions are both open, so do read these rules HERE first and request away~

[Part 1] | [Part 2]

——————————————————————

Now, I stood together with my father at the entrance of the wedding hall in anticipation and nervousness. Of course, my father realised and he smiled before shaking his head. I still did not like what he did though, but when I thought about it, I never really had a choice to begin with, especially when it was considered a social norm in my world for arranged marriages.

The veil was translucent, hence, I would not be able to see the groom’s face clearly at the entrance; at least not immediately when the doors open. It would only be revealed when I have walked the aisle and the groom lifts the veil over my head when I would be able to know who he would be. My best friend was in front now, volunteering to take the place of an absent flower girl and by the looks of it, she seemed to be more excited than me. One could clearly tell by her body language that she was getting antsy, restless and someone who just could not wait for the event to commence.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors were open and the wedding song played. To my surprise, it was selected by my father and I never, never knew that he had such great taste in music. I stared at him with raised eyebrows, while he only wore a proud and fatherly smile on his face.

The flower girls went first, scattering the rose petals along the aisle and to the audience with such grace, which surprised me even more when it came from my best friend. She was a tomboy, and did not seemed to have any form of grace or dignity to begin with. They did not take long though, and it was my turn to walk down the aisle. According to my father (who whispered through gritted teeth), this seemingly romantic song was far from over, which affected the speed that I walked. Those who were invited looked at me curiously and some, looked strangely familiar, but I just could not find it in my memory bank to match their faces to a particular name.

Time seemed to pass at a snail’s pace and I was soon standing at the altar, with my father taking his place at the front pew next to my mother. And that was the cue for the pastor to begin his long speech of blessings and enlightening the crowd about the significance of marriage, before the choir broke into song of hymns and praises to the Almighty. In this whole time, I held the hand of my groom and could not bear to look him in the eye.

Strangely enough, the warmth which seemed to emit from his fingertips felt strangely familiar, and all the feelings of anxiety disappeared in an instant. Instead, his touch brought me comfort and security, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders disappearing gradually. I could not see his face, but judging by the looks of his physique and the aura that he carried, it was clear that he was a young man of similar age and was seen to be someone who was confident and clearly able to carry himself very well.

This was the time for the unveiling and with his fingers, he gently lifted the veil, making sure that the veil made no contact with the makeup on my face. He was careful not to use too much strength either, probably knowing that my hairstyle had taken a while to do. At this stage, my best friend was probably holding her breath now, praying that he would not ruin whatever she had painstakingly done for me.

A gasp of surprise was heard, and I finally mustered the courage to look at my groom, realising that it was indeed the boy whom I had claimed to be my soulmate and my supposed first ever crush in my entire schooling career.

He grew up to be a very good looking man indeed, but his features never seemed to change. It was only the aura that he carried, but one could easily tell that he was almost as simple as to being a child deep down inside. Except he could not show it due to the environment that he grew up in, where fun and leisure seemed to be a “want” and far from a “need”. He looked the same 7 years ago and we were probably young and foolish teenagers back then, but here we were now, facing each other at the altar without knowing how to react.

I stood frozen too, and he chuckled lightly before mouthing a “Hello” after so long. It was still all of a shocker to me, and I nodded awkwardly, with my eyes still in disbelief at the fact that I was here standing in front of my first crush, but we never hit it off with one another. Now, we stood at the altar together and in all honesty, I could not decide whether to feel elated, relieved or even apologetic for the fact that he would be married to someone like me. Sure, it was expected that he had a couple of girlfriends but it was funny that he never ended up with anyone of them.

So the wedding ceremony proceeded and we exchanged our vows. I was a little more willing now, and read the vows with ease, and the same went for him. I glanced at my parents and his; both of them giving nods of approval and it was obvious that my mother was going to burst into tears at the sight of such a happy and heartwarming event. I smiled at her to give her some reassurance and my father continued to stand there, fatherly pride written all over his face, when Jaehyun turned to look at him as well.

“I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Those were the golden words, and Jaehyun’s face ended up being dangerously close to mine. I could tell he was searching for approval. Being the most morally upright man I knew, he never had the heart to kill an ant, what more kissing a girl whom he had not seen for the longest time without her approval. I looked at the crowd and looked back at him, nodding, and in no time, his lips came into contact with mine.

No, it was not steamy or passionate like how it was usually in romantic movies, but it was sweet, gentle and full of longing for one another. I know it would sound terribly strange, but it was equivalent to our lips being made for one another as they molded into one. The crowd responded by cheering and applauding, but it was as if the world was no longer around anymore, and all that mattered was the two of us, like how it was 7 years ago.

The day went on with photographs being taken, with the lovely and picturesque Bora Bora island in the backdrop. It soon followed with the preparations for the dinner that our parents had organised, and because of that, there just wasn’t enough time to catch up with one another. We were too busy getting ready for the big night and he was going to attend his bachelor lunch, while I did the same with my girlfriends. It was all smiles, relief and a day filled with endless congratulatory remarks. They seemed to be relieved that my parents had made the right choice and I was grateful for their support indeed.

As expected, the dinner and dance was fun, wild and we were served up with an endless array of mediterranean dishes. It was colourful, unique and extremely scrumptious. I sat with Jaehyun in relative silence, only to speak when we wanted to praise the food or ask a question about the party. I noticed my best friend happily chatting with a bachelor until she noticed my teasing glare, only to smack her forehead at me, but she continued talking to him anyways. She clearly enjoyed his company, and I could not help but think how great they would look together.

Yes, it was my wedding, but that did not mean that I could not watch other love stories unfold.

“I know this is a little bit awkward of a timing but I feel like having a toast.” Jaehyun whispered into my ear, causing me to jump slightly out of my skin.

“Oops… I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckled bashfully, scratching the back of his head, “I mean, please continue if you want. It’ll be strange wouldn’t it, to have a toast in the middle of the meal–”

At that point, I got out from my seat and handed the microphone to him before saying, “It’s alright. No one would judge you for having a toast. Besides, it is quite customary based on the weddings that I have attended so if you wanna do it, just do before you actually forget about it. Furthermore, we have quite a bit of champagne to finish.”

He then broke out into a smile and turned on the microphone facing his audience, before saying, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. It has been such an honour that you have made the time to come down all the way to Bora Bora island for the wedding of Y/N and I. In light of that, I would like to make a toast for everyone. It might sound like it is solely for my wife, but in reality, it is also to thank you all for coming today and showing your support.”

The crowd cheered and clapped, before raising their champagne glasses with wide smiles on their faces. I, too, did the same, even if I was not prepared for Jaehyun’s cheesy antics.

“Here’s to right now when you are surrounded by your loved ones,

and all are wishing you well.

As you create a brand new chapter,

In the story that’s yours to tell.

We talk about the memories,

You have yet to make together.

And the moments you’ve already shared,

To be carried with you forever.

But take the time to live today as your marriage begins.

Look around and soak it up; the moment we are in.

For this is where the magic starts,

When you both say your vows.

You pledge to spend your lives as one,

Because of the love you feel now.

So yes, here’s to a future that is bright and warm and clear,

But more than that, here’s to right now,

And what it means to be here.”

He ended off with a smile and the crowd cheered again, even louder this time, clinking their glasses with one another and sipping their champagnes once the giving of well wishes amongst the guests were over.

I could only look at Jaehyun at that point, and indeed, he has not lost a single ounce of his charisma at all. I suppose some are just naturals at it, but he did catch me staring at the end, only to give a flirty, yet playful wink. I shuddered at the thought, but he only pulled me closer with his hands firmly on my waist saying in a hushed tone, “We have a lot to talk about. Meet me at the beach tonight, we really have to catch up.”

At that, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks and soon, I begun to feel it at ears. Nodding awkwardly, I met his eyes once again, only to be faced with two adorable crescent moons of eyes and a very bright smile. Within me, it was as if I went back to my days in high school when he was actually my crush. I was awkward and conscious; exactly how I felt now and I could not help but cringe at the thoughts of my old self.

The dinner ended fairly quickly after that, and one by one, the guests started to leave after they had said goodbye to us and their other tablemates and it was soon back to the both of us, alone in the venue, as we gave our final hugs to our parents respectively. I had to hand a napkin to my mother who was slowly tearing up as she got out of my embrace just so that my father could have his turn. On the other hand, Jaehyun’s parents were less on the emotional side, and instead demonstrated pride and happiness seeing their beaming son.

At this moment, my father only looked at Jaehyun with a glare and whispered certain words into his ear. He was calm, but I could tell by his shifting pupils that it was probably something threatening about him needing to protect me before my father kills him. I smiled inwardly and the thought and chuckled at the irony of the situation; my father was confident but he still feared for the safety of his daughter, even with the man he claimed to be the right one for me.

I went back to my chalet and took a long, lukewarm shower before changing into comfortable clothing for the night. The day had worn me out by tons and it was nice to finally get rid of the heels and the long, restrictive night gown. I was dressed in a simple sleeved shirt with elephant-printed pants and I could not have been happier and more relaxed to be in that state, especially when I stood by the window and letting the cool sea breeze caress against my face.

However, it soon struck me that I had a date to keep, and without hesitation, I headed down to the beach while struggling to put on my slippers. I ran down the jetty as fast as my legs could carry me, and prayed that Jaehyun had not been waiting long for me. I was supposed to meet him by the beach right after the dinner, but with the stresses and fun, it was easy to forget.

I was panting by the time I had reached the beach that Jaehyun had led me to, and was only greeted with a colourful striped picnic mat with 4 Yankee candles holding down the entire mat from the strong wind. At the sides, there were portable speakers, which played really calming music despite the relatively violent winds, but the atmosphere was still one of calm and serene, and it was easy to see why many people suggested taking a walk along the beach at night because it helped to relieve the stress and the worries of anyone and everyone.

Most importantly, there was a man sitting on the mat with his back facing me. At the sight of his damp hair, it was clear that he came not too long ago and relief came over me like a wave. He was dressed in a simple white attire and it was relatively translucent, which accentuated his lean body and he was looking at the sea longingly with an expression of calm. Tension was not present, and it was clear that he was relaxed and relieved of his stress from the day as well.

Suddenly, he turned around and flashed a smile before saying, “Ah! You’re here! Come, have a seat. Stop standing there already.” He straightened the mat as best as he could and patted it, inviting me to sit down next to him.

And I did, removing my slippers in the process and keeping it in the basket before stepping on the obviously expensive picnic mat. It looked simple, but the feel of it was soft and incredibly comfortable, which was extremely difficult to find in the market. Hence, considering its rarity, it was clearly sold for an exorbitant price, and so I did was careful not to leave any bit of sand on the mat.

He only laughed at my gingerly antics, and said in a casual fashion, “Calm down. Yes, this mat is expensive but it can be washed easily so just relax and lay comfortably with me, shall we?”

He laid down first and let out a breath, eyes fixated on the twinkling stars in the jet black night sky. As expected, it was possible to see the milky way and most of its surrounding stars. They all twinkled happily and seemed to dance in the sky, together with the moon which nestled comfortably between them.

“Why so awkward Y/N? Come, lay down with me. I am not a stranger and don’t worry, I won’t do anything nasty.” He assured, and so I did; I laid down beside him with my hands underneath my head, watching the stars together.

“Have we ever done this before Y/N? I feel like we have but I really cannot remember. Time flies, doesn’t it?” He asked.

“Y-yeah… It definitely has, and no, I doubt we’ve done this before. And besides, let’s not forget that Seoul is a vertical society after all, so stars would probably be a very rare sight.”

He laughed at the comment and agreed, before we fell into a state of silence again.

“So,” He said, breaking the silence yet again, “How have you been? I mean, we’ve not seen each other in a while.”

“I’ve been okay I guess? I got my dream job as an editor and the people are really nice, so yeah, I guess all is good? How about you?”

“Well, sorry I forgot to tell you earlier and left all of a sudden to America. I was there for about 4 years, completed my university degree and simply came back to get ready to take over my father’s company. It’s not what I wanted to do, but I have come to realise that I won’t really have a choice until I have a child of a similar age to pass on the seat to. It’s my father’s hard work after all, so it will not be right to let it all go. After that, he told me that he had found the most ‘perfect’ bride for me, only to realise that it was you.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, and he looked at me with wide eyes, realising how that sentence could have been taken as an offence and stuttered in response, “I mean, it’s a good thing that you are my wife now! Please don’t get the wrong idea!”

“I was just kidding, Jaehyun-ah.” I laughed in response and pouted before giving me a gentle nudge.

“So you never knew it was going to be me then? Did you even have a say at this arranged marriage?” I asked curiously, wondering whether he did do the same thing as I did.

“Of course I refused, because that was not the way I functioned either and honestly, I had a girlfriend then. However, it was on that day itself when I had found out that my girlfriend at that time was having an affair with another man, and even had the audacity to use our shared apartment for their dirty deeds. I walked in on them, so on impulse, I called my parents immediately, saying that I would agree with the arranged marriage in the heat of the moment.”

I could only stare at him in silence but he continued anyway, “I cut off all contact with her and kicked her out, removing her as a tenant on the document for the apartment itself.”

“I see… Did you even have a hunch who your bride was going to be?” I asked again and he nodded, “I did, but I was not sure. I had to bribe Yuta with pizza for a week to drop me a very obvious hint, and all he told me was that it was a girl whom I have known for the longest time and I had a crush on her too back in high school. Apparently, I had forgotten that I even had a crush back then, and tried my best to look through my yearbook, only to come across you and as I recalled all the memories, it came together like a puzzle piece.”

At this point, I was shocked, because it was as if we had lived through the same experience at a different place and time. And it was also a confession, though late, that he had feelings for me too when we were younger.

“It was a little too perfect to be true though, and you know arranged marriages right? However, it was definitely a relief to know that it was you when I lifted off the veil. Once again, I came face to face with the girl I had truly loved. She wasn’t rich nor famous, but she was pure, kind-hearted and was anything that I would want. And yes, that girl was you. There was never a day when I would leave school without thinking about you, but I was way too scared to admit my feelings and I assumed it was the same for you?”

I nodded and he only chuckled as he probably recalled our younger days when we were way too shy to even speak to one another. He was “too cool for school”, I felt, but it was nothing but a front for himself and the rest of the school that he only liked rich and famous girls, especially with the fact that he was one of the kingkas of the school.

“I don’t even know why I was so stupid then, and I felt even worse when I had to leave all of a sudden because I kept thinking of all the boys who would grow to love you, and who might even marry you. Trust me, I was scared, insecure and disappointed that I had not told you sooner. I was a fool back then,” He paused to look at me and continued in a positive tone, “However, I believe in second chances and I guess this is life’s way of telling me that all hope is not lost yet.”

I smiled widely at the thought, but could not help but have this nagging question in my mind. Why was it me of all people? There were so many other pretty girls and high achievers, but he liked none of them. It made me wonder why, so I asked shamelessly and he only smiled when he heard the question, looking at the stars.

“Look at the stars. There are so many right? Some huge, some small…” And I hummed in response, “Now try focusing on one of them.”

I furrowed my brows and chose a star to concentrate on that chosen one.

“Now, if you notice that if you concentrate hard enough, all the other stars would begin to disappear.”

Eventually, I had realised it too and was left in awe before he ended off his anecdote with, “And that is how I feel about you.”

I turned to look at him in surprise, but a smile soon crept up afterwards and so did he. At that point, he gave me a quick peck on my lips and pulled me closer to him. My head was on his chest now and I could hear his rhythmic heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

I think I want you more than want,

No, I need you more than need,

I wanna hold you more than hold,

When you stood in front of me.

I think you know me more than know,

And you see me more than see,

I could die now more than die,

Every time you looked at me.

Oh well, I’ve seen you in jeans,

With no makeup on, and I stood there in awe,

As your date for the prom.

And I’m blessed as a man, to have seen you in white,

And I’ve never seen anything quite like you tonight.

[A/N: The Script; Never Seen Anything “Quite Like You”. Listen HERE]

Those were the lyrics of the song that he had sung with his angelic voice, and I could not help but blush hearing the sweet lyrics, combined with his melodic and gentle voice. Indeed, his vocal chops were still pretty on point. Then again, I guess no one actually loses their ability to sing, especially for Jaehyun, who loved to sing with all his heart.

He gave me a kiss on the head when he was done and said, “I’m not sure how ready you are but I will not press you. Let’s take some time to rekindle our romance and our chemistry, before we move on to the next stage of really living our married life as parents. Now that you are here in my arms, I want to spend every single moment with you and create even more memories before we welcome the gift of life into our lives. For now, let us take things slow. I will not force you into anything, once again, because I love you too much and your happiness is everything to me now.”

I looked up at him and responded, saying more things than I had ever said in that time, “You’re right in saying that I want to take things slow. But yes, I love you too, Jaehyun-sshi. In fact, I always have and I was definitely sad when you left all of a sudden without telling me. Similarly, I felt like a fool for not confessing to you sooner, especially with the fact that you liked me back. Fortunately, that was the past. Let us focus on the present now, spend quality time with one another and support each other alright? It’s going to be tough, but we will get through it together now.”

And with that, he did not let me finish my sentence before grabbing my chin and pulling me in to share a passionate kiss under the twinkling stars and with the sounds of the waves lapping against the beach.

This was the start of my married life with Jaehyun and honestly, I could not wait for our futures with each other’s eternal company now. We broke off the kiss because we needed air, but our foreheads remained in contact as we stared into each other’s eyes lovingly. And once again, we shared another quick peck before proceeding to cuddle once again. We closed our eyes and all we could hear was the sound of the wind and the sea, looking forward to what the future might bring for the two of us now.

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