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tomorrowxtogether · 1 year

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YEONJUN: “I never want to forget that I can’t take anything for granted”

TOMORROW X TOGETHER The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION comeback interview

2023.02.06

Everything, everywhere is full of passion. It’s cheerful. Friendly. This is YEONJUN’s world.

You brought a book of poetry for the gift exchange you held with the other members for your holiday Weverse Live.

YEONJUN: I’m not a heavy reader but I got inspired after seeing some nice quotes and poems on social media. And I thought it would be nice to show them to those who are having a hard time around me. I think I’m good at using wordplay in my lyrics but not so much at incorporating my emotions, so I thought poetry books might help.

The lyrics you wrote for the track “Farewell, Neverland” off the latest album are sentimental.

YEONJUN: And yet it wasn’t particularly difficult. I always watch a lot of movies and have a good imagination. My MBTI has N, after all. (laughs) I’ve had a rich imagination ever since I was young so I used to imagine myself as a movie character and act like one. I wrote the lyrics to “Farewell, Neverland” by picturing myself as one of the boys who wants to play with Peter Pan. They don’t want to grow up but they have no choice but to leave Neverland if they’re going to keep developing and moving forward. I wrote it from the perspective of resisting Peter Pan’s temptation.

Conversely, the lead single “Sugar Rush Ride” and the song “Devil by the Window” explore what temptation and giving into it looks like. I’d say you tried recording with some new vocal styles that you never used before.

YEONJUN: You know, if you’re tempting someone you don’t just say, (dryly) “Come here.” You have to say it in a sly and sexy voice. (laughs) So I went over the top for some parts, abandoning my normal self and getting into the role of the devil, then for other parts I really exaggerated my vocals and tried to make the expressions as strong as possible.

What was it like writing lyrics for “Happy Fools” (feat. Coi Leray)? I was curious to see if there would be a moment you give into temptation, seeing as you’re usually so hardworking.YEONJUN: I really sympathize with the idea of wanting to have fun, so I kept that in mind while writing the lyrics. But, to be honest, even when I’ve had a hard time, the worst it ever gets is I can’t concentrate quite as well or I practice a little less. I never once completely gave up on anything. So you’re saying you’ve always done everything you have to. (laughs) Don’t you ever feel like blowing everything off, even just occasionally?YEONJUN: Even if I thought about it, I don’t think I could actually go through with it. It’s already such an inborn habit and just the way I work. What if you magically had one day where you’re allowed to live life however you want—a day where you won’t get tired for tomorrow no matter what you do and it won’t have any effect on all the effort you’ve put in so far?YEONJUN: (laughs) Could I have that? (After thinking it over) I’d probably just do something fun, I guess? Hang out with friends, go somewhere cool to listen to some music. But that’s not something I absolutely crave anyway. Why’s that?YEONJUN: I’m so ambitious and eager that it outweighs any inconveniences. This job is my pride and joy. I’m pretty easygoing but I also have a lot of dignity. (laughs) I want to keep feeling proud when it comes to my work. It’s interesting to see your photos in that sense. You usually aim for perfection, even under pressure, but you look so natural when you have your picture taken—like you don’t even notice anyone’s looking.YEONJUN: I always enjoy photoshoots. Today’s shoot for Weverse Magazine was no exception. I feel enough pressure on a day-to-day basis so I try to have some confidence when I’m doing a shoot. And anyway, it’s the real deal. It’s like how actors really try to become another person rather than just read lines from a script. It’s the same with me: When I’m doing a shoot or on stage, I’m not just making facial expressions and striking attractive poses—I’m usually trying to become the kind of person who fits in with the given mood.

That helped make the Daydream version of the concept photos for the new album memorable. Whereas showing off your bare chest and back could’ve been burdensome, you make it look like a breeze, and you stuck out your tongue in a unique way.YEONJUN: I was okay with showing some skin. I think everything from the background to the outfits, hair and makeup were perfectly orchestrated to set the mood. I think they really helped sell the particular idea of dreaminess for the Daydream version. But I also worried that taking off my top would come across as leaning too hard into sex appeal. As I understood it, it was never meant to be like that. It should be really clear from how I’m sticking out my tongue, but it’s meant to be mischievous. Mysterious but mischievous. So I was trying to convey a mix of feelings. You worked yourself very naturally into the atmosphere of your concerts during last year’s ACT: LOVESICK world tour and at Lollapalooza. You really couldn’t hide your excitement over the festival atmosphere at Lollapalooza.YEONJUN: You’re right. It was a valuable time to reflect on why I do this line of work. I got started in this because of how much I love the stage. Is there an area you want to explore more of? In an earlier interview in Weverse Magazine, you said you wanted to try writing more intense lyrics, and you said in a vlog you recorded while in the US that you used all your energy on the Lollapalooza stage and even said, “This is what a performance is.”YEONJUN: We can’t do everything we want in the course of our everyday lives. There’s so many restrictions. But when it comes to the stage, I can do anything I want. So I think I want to do whatever I want to the fullest no matter what people say. That’s true for music, performing and photoshoots, too. So you must’ve been really energized while interacting with MOA from so many different countries.YEONJUN: It meant a lot because I’m the kind of person who wants to experience everything. I was especially amazed how the mood and energy differed between cities. I was impressed how calm and extremely focused on the concert itself they were in Japan, and then Southeast Asia they sang along really passionately to the songs and were jumping up and down. In the US they sang and danced in front of us however they wanted without feeling self-conscious. After Lollapalooza, I really thought I just want to be a massive rock star. (laughs) So I tried writing songs that everyone could dance to and have fun and just enjoy themselves to.

You continuously contribute to the music and lyrics of the songs on your albums. Can we expect to hear some songs that are about your personal stories?YEONJUN: I still want to work on it a bit more before I reveal anything to MOA. I’m the type of person that cannot show if I’m not confident or if I’m not fully ready. (laughs) You’re quite the perfectionist. (laughs) Because of the nature of your job, though, it’s always the case that you have to have something to show by a specified time. How do you deal with that? I’m thinking especially about how you have to play many different roles, like when you performed “Lonely Boy (The tattoo on my ring finger)” at 2022 MAMA last year and the dance covers you did at 2022 SBS Gayo Daejeon.YEONJUN: In my personal opinion, none of those performances were perfect. I just tried to put on performances that were as close to perfection as possible. I just practiced as much as I could until time was up. I didn’t want to feel anxious right before I got up on stage and worry about whether I could do a good enough job. In the end, I tried my best and did it all without any mistakes. (laughs) I’m surprised someone with such a strong stage presence is so hard on himself. You garner a lot of attention, too: You earned the nickname 4th Gen It Boy and now have over 12 million followers on Instagram.YEONJUN: I do love myself and have high self-esteem, but apart from that, I’ve never felt fully satisfied with myself. I’m always finding something I could be doing better. Aside from the title you mentioned, I trained for this job long enough that I always feel like I need to be doing better.

That makes me think of the lyrics to “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock),” which you helped write. Do you ever feel like you’re “just a rock” after spending so much time thinking and putting in the effort?YEONJUN: I’m sure every artist has that feeling at some point. As an artist, I’m always following a big dream when I work, but sometimes when I see myself I feel like I’m not good enough and I feel useless—like I’m nothing. That’s what I was thinking about when I wrote those lyrics. So you’re always aiming higher.YEONJUN: I want to be a role model and to be able to have a good influence on people. My friend told me a really good story yesterday. Apparently, a friend of a friend is my fan. When that MOA saw I had written “study hard” when I signed their CD, that was enough to get past being bullied, study hard and make it into the university program this friend wanted. I just wrote that short message. When I heard that, I thought, I’m at a place now where I can change a person’s life. What about this job could be more rewarding than that? You don’t hold any prejudices and you respect everyone for who they are. For example, you wore a skirt and made a post saying boys can wear skirts too, and when you first saw iced tea with a shot of espresso and confirmed that that person ordered it that way on purpose, you responded, “Okay then, no problem.”YEONJUN: I try not to hold prejudices. I fell into some preconceived notions in the past, but the world keeps changing and there’s still a lot more that needs to change. So I took a careful look at myself, didn’t really like what I saw and thought I better not let myself get stuck in those mindsets. Are you always fully conscious of what’s happening around you? I recall on Weverse Live when HUENINGKAI was feeling camera-shy because of his messy hair but MOA really wanted to see him and you carefully smoothed over that situation.YEONJUN: I try but I don’t know if I’m doing a very good job. (laughs) I try to organize my thoughts by priority at least. I start by talking about what needs to be taken care of immediately and wait a little to bring up other things when there’s an opportunity. I also take each of the members’ styles into consideration. They’re all very different. (laughs) I felt a lot of pressure last year to get us more in sync and practicing more when we had to get a lot of performances ready in a short time because I tend to be ambitious about wanting to do a good job. But it takes some time for everyone to get on the same page and that’s just the way it is. So I talked about the most pressing issues first and waited to talk about the other parts till the next time and we got in sync that way.

I imagine spending so much time together during the world tour must have made it a major turning point for the group, too.

YEONJUN: We definitely had more of a chance to talk. Things have always been good between us, but we got even better at being open with each other than before. I think it can actually be harder to be open with someone the more time you spend together and the closer you are. I tried to be more open, too, and we all tried really hard on the things we felt were important or necessary. That’s how we got better.

In an interview with GQ last year, you said, “We have to try harder so we can be extremely good.” That seems to be your default attitude toward both the other members and toward MOA.

YEONJUN: I think you can always do better, no matter how good you already are. I know I have my weaknesses but I can always do better despite that. I think, if you have your thoughts set on some specific standard, you’re done for. And I’m always YEONJUN from TOMORROW X TOGETHER before just YEONJUN. I couldn’t have done any of the things it took to get me to where I am today on my own. The label helped and because I have the other members and MOA with me, we can all shine brighter.

Is that why you’re always showing the people around you how grateful you are? You shared the heartfelt messages you wrote to the staff you work with on Weverse and you even got snacks for hosts Jjoonijjoon and the rest of SBS’s Inkigayo staff.

YEONJUN: I think it’s really important to be grateful. I really hate when I take things for granted. I think I’ll fail as both a person and as an artist the moment I start taking others for granted. We’re going to get more and more the more we grow, and I never want to forget that I can’t take those things for granted. I think I need to be a person first and an artist second.

Personally, the lyrics to “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock)” made me think of the movie Everything Everywhere All at Once. If you could pick one version of yourself from the multiverse, like in the movie, which YEONJUN would you choose?

YEONJUN: Me? I’m just … I’m happy the way things are now. (laughs) I hope I would be a happy YEONJUN. If it’s good, it’s good. (laughs) I want the YEONJUN who lives in a world where everyone’s happy and worry-free.

I wonder if that happy YEONJUN is doing the same work that you do.

YEONJUN: Yep.

#txt #tomorrow x together #230206 #weverse magazine #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION #The Name Chapter

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superevilstudycat · 1 year

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answers 4 dis ask game:

your favourite playlist (made by yourself or someone else)- https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6lKN0XzDLXKBtjSJCeM0FH?si=40fc7e91b1e64b67 teehee how many houseplants in your room, and what kinds are they? omg, i lots n lots n lots…abt 12? most notably 2 spider plants, my roommate’s monstera, a million bazillion succulents, ponytail palm, propagating green onions, + i also have a lemon tree but i had 2 move it out of my dorm bc it got too cold. it has a lemon growing on it rn! V excited <;3 your favourite “grounding” activity (anything that involves using the hands/doesn’t involve “spacing out” or escapism - something like gardening, knitting, dancing, cooking) def journaling! taking time 2 work thru my thoughts and even to just draw n brainstorm new projects is v relaxing 2 mi. also,,,, i’ve invested sm $$ into cute stickers n washi tapes n gel pens…its a bit of a problem, i wont lie D: an account on social media whose posts make you smile @veryluckyclover on instagram dot com! Luv elle’s work 5 tv shows that cheer you up She-ra Fruits basket Horimiya Over the Garden Wall Steven universe :O how you get relaxed when you’re struggling to sleep when i cant sleep, i usually just try 2 use that time 2 b productive + dont try 2 force sleep. i like having a cup of tea and doing a little studying or getting around 2 watch smt your favourite board game NOT a gamer, but i’m pretty good at scrabble and i like winning. So. if you were going to write a non-fiction book on any topic, what would it be? ladino! i know very little about it and am extremely not qualified but i would love an excuse to take classes and learn more abt it a quote that you would consider getting tattooed or putting in a frame luv luv luv arabic poetry n there r so many 2 choose frum but that’s too vulnerable 2 say out loud atm (i will make a post later) (be warned) something you’ve created in the last year that you’re proud of (a playlist, a piece of art, some writing, a craft hobby, a social media account, etc) i made a cross stitch 4 a mitski lyric + earlier today i made a book compiling some of my fav poems! a tip or hack you’ve learned that makes cleaning or tidying easier having lysol wipes around! V versatile. if you could make a candle that smelt like anything, what would you pick? i’m a big fan of jasmine scents but probs my ex-gf an artist (of any kind) whose work you look forward to seeing Mitski :3 alsooooo @veryluckyclover on insta dot com (their art is holding mi 2gether is2g) how you wake your body up when it’s feeling tired, achy or needs a stretch cigarette and espresso romano, lord forgive me a bath, shower, beauty or toiletry product that makes you feel revived, or that you always re-order when it’s running out not a singular product, but here’s my skincare routine: The Ordinary Squalane Cleanser The Ordinary Hyaluronic Acid 2% + B5 The Ordinary AHA 30% + BHA 2% Peeling Solution The Ordinary Buffet The Ordinary Natural Moisturizing Factors + HA Daytime: [JMSolution] Glow Luminous Flower Sun Stick Rose SPF50+ PA+++ 21g ; Nighttime: LANEIGE - Water Sleeping Mask EX no idea if i’m using them in right order but ummm my skin feels pretty good! I also do facemasks once in a while, vaseline 4 my lips, and regular sunscreen every day :P

#ask game #grwm #a day in the life #slice of life #studyblr #study blog #college life #aesthetic #cottagecore #soft

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kazzyboy · 3 years

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I made a quiz :)))

Republished this cause too many people were getting the same result lmao (my fault)

#all for the game #aftg #all for the gay #let’s play stickball they said #it’ll be fun they said #quiz #aesthetic #aesthetic quiz #lots of poems n lyrics n quotes #and stupid things I’ve done so that’s nice #oh no my music taste spilled all over my quiz #oops oh well

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spacedikut · 4 years

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“i want to love someone and be loved” ; spencer reid - part 2

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x f!reader

summary: spencer decides it’s time to tell you, but he needs some help. 3887 words. part 1

a/n: THIS is the longest fic ive ever written but im actually kinda proud of how it turned out? i hope this is a good sequel :)

Spencer chickens out of telling you the next day.

He avoids you all weekend, actually. You resisted texting him the day after Rossi’s because you assumed he’d be busy – with his big plan involving a girl that isn’t you. You’re not bitter – but Sunday comes around and you message him not long after you wake up and six hours later there’s no response.

Twelve hours later - there’s no response.

Monday, you don’t have time to say hello to anyone – there’s a case waiting for you, somewhere in Florida.

Reid avoids your eyes. His body language tells you something is wrong, so you assume whoever he confessed to didn’t reciprocate (they’re insane) and he’s dealing with it. So you don’t press.

Spencer pretends to sleep the entire jet ride. He’s avoiding everyone, not just you.

He spent the whole weekend beating himself up. He drove to your apartment on Saturday, sat outside for so long a neighbour knocked on his window and asked if he was lost, but couldn’t bring himself to step foot out of his car.

So he locked himself in his room, away from you and your loveliness and away from his phone because he knew you texted him and he knew you’d send some soft message about being there for him if he needs anything and he didn’t need to be reminded of how beautiful and out of reach you are.

Derek seemed to be waiting for him Monday morning, arms crossed as he held a cup of coffee. It was weird seeing him in before Spencer.

“How’d it go?” He immediately asked.

“How’d what go?” Spencer mumbles, flinging his bag on the floor by his desk. He slumps in his seat.

Derek raises a dark eyebrow, “You know what, pretty boy. You had a big thing? Big plan?”

“Didn’t work out.”

It doesn’t take a profiler to realise Spencer is very clearly saying leave me alone. Leave it alone.

Derek isn’t one to leave it alone. Especially when it comes to Spencer.

He sighs and moves a little closer to Spencer’s desk, just in case someone overhears them.

“What happened?”

“That’s exactly it,” Spencer slams open a file, “Nothing happened.”

“And why did nothing happen?”

“Because I’m an idiot that can’t even tell a girl how I feel.”

“Whoa- hey!”

Derek spins Spencer’s chair so they’re face to face. Derek takes one look in Spencer’s eyes and knows what’s going on – he got too into his head and backed out at the last minute.

“You’re not an idiot. Why didn’t you do it?”

Spencer shrugs, “I got to her apartment. I had flowers, too. I don’t know.”

Derek’s evidently concerned – Spencer’s beaten up over this, over whoever this girl is, and he deserves the chance to experience love. Spencer deserves a lot more than he himself thinks he does.

“You seemed really excited, man. You can still do it. Just cause you try once and it doesn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t ever try again.”

Spencer stares off into the distance, accidentally ignoring Derek as his thoughts slip out of his mouth, “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t have worked anyway – I was stupid to think I could get someone like her.”

“Hey, no.” Derek nudges Spencer’s shoulder so he looks at him again, “Don’t talk like that. You’re one hell of a guy, Reid. All you gotta do is get that confidence that you had Friday night back, and you’re all set. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Spencer gives a feeble nod. Derek moves back to his desk, knowing he isn’t convinced, but he isn’t done yet.

+++

Later, in Florida, Spencer’s making a coffee in the precinct’s kitchen after waiting twenty minutes for you to leave. Luck’s on his side, for once, and you’ve been working non-stop with Prentiss going crime scene to crime scene so he hasn’t had to actively avoid you. You smile at him every chance you get, though, and it distracts him.

Someone clears their throat behind him. It’s Penelope, whom Spencer didn’t realise was invited on this case.

She looks guilty. Spencer recognises that face; the face she has when she’s done something she shouldn’t have or knows something she isn’t really supposed to. Given current circumstances, Spencer bets it’s the latter reason.

“Morgan told me something he shouldn’t have.”

Bingo.

He leans against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

“What did he tell you?” He asks, feigning tranquillity. Inside he’s screaming non-stop.

She’s got her hands clasped together in front of her, almost innocently, and fiddles with her fingers, “He told me you needed assistance in the love department.” Before he can object, she continues, “And I am willing to do anything if it means our resident weirdo-slash-genius falls in love and gets to experience some much needed cuteness.”

There’s no point in lying to her. There’s also no point in being mad that Morgan told her about his situation – they’re kind of a package deal. And, who knows, Garcia might be able to help.

“So…” She sways, trying (and failing) to appear nonchalant, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Spencer shuffles on the spot, scuffing his shoes against the floor. He debates whether he should tell her, since, you know, you’re in the next room over, but Spencer worries that Garcia is so good at her job she’d somehow find out through hacking Spencer’s phone, or maybe somehow hacking his dreams. His subconscious. He’s terrified of Garcia and her abilities.

“You can tell me.” She insists, “I’m much better at keeping secrets than Morgan.”

Spencer turns away from her, she steps closer, and he mumbles your name.

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“WHAT?!”

Spencer spins, hands coming up to tell Garcia to shut up and Garcia immediately covers her mouth in both shock and hopefully so she doesn’t shout again.

“Since when?!” She screeches. “How could I not have known?! Oh God, almighty Doctor Reid, I feel like I’ve failed you by not realising earlier.”

Her enthusiasm makes him smile, for the first time in far too long. Garcia has that power – this innate skill to comfort those around her and make them feel special, make them smile when the world feels like its collapsing.

“Let me help!” She requests.

Spencer’s clearly hesitant. He knows it’s a bad idea.

“Please!” She begs, “I just- I have so many ideas of how you can go about this. Let me brainstorm, get back to you, and if I’m too over-the-top you can tell me no and we’ll pretend it never happened!”

He takes a deep breath. Yes, Garcia is the definition of over-the-top, but that’s one of his favourite things about her. It’s your favourite thing, too. And he did tell Morgan he had big plans. Anything involving Garcia is a big plan with big payoff.

“This is between us.”

“I’ll take it to the grave. Unless you realise how amazing my ideas are and use one to tell Y/N how you feel and then years later I get to commend myself during my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

She looks ecstatic, hands now together under her jaw as her eyes twinkle. Spencer can’t help but laugh at her eagerness.

+++

The next day, the team returns to Quantico after a semi-successful case. The general mood is good and Morgan invites everyone out for drinks – Spencer declines, but you have your first full conversation since last Friday.

“C’mon, Spence,” Your head rests against the jet seat and you blink sleepily at him, “I feel like I haven’t spoken to you for years!”

Spencer gives you a small smile, “I promised my mom I’d call her tonight. Sorry, Y/N.”

You nod in understanding, “Will you tell her I say hi?”

“Of course. She loves you.”

You grin at eachother, immediately lost in your own world. You’ve missed him more than you realised, and you have no idea what’s going through his head, but you’re happy that you’ve had this – a Spencer Reid smile that makes you feel at home and on top of the world simultaneously.

Spencer has to tear his eyes away before he blurts something stupid, like she’s not the only one that loves you.

+++

“Spencer!” Garcia greets, Cheshire cat grin on her face. “I need to see you in my dungeon, please. Immediately.”

Spencer drops the file he’s holding. Unfortunately, Penelope’s request caught the attention of the whole team.

“What business do you have in the villain’s lair, Reid?” Derek asks. You’ve looked up from your computer, Emily smirking and leaning back in her chair in expectation.

“Uh…”

“Important nerd business. Go away.” Garcia says, eyes narrow as she tugs Spencer’s hand. He’s whisked away from any further questioning, leaving the befuddled team behind.

He isn’t sure what to expect when he stumbles into Penelope’s second home, but the display in front of him explains why he overheard a conversation about missing evidence boards earlier. Penelope’s obviously been using the new printer in her cave to her advantage – there’s at least twenty different pictures printed out on one board titled “date ideas”, then the board on the right has a picture of Spencer and you in the centre with a perfectly drawn heart around it. Under and around that is a mixture of love quotes, including song lyrics and quotes directly from romantic movies. He notices “The Parliament of Fowls” on there – Garcia remembers that he mentioned it’s considered the first Valentines poem?

“Whoa,” Is all he can say.

“I know it’s a little intense,” Garcia squirms, “But! I started scrolling through Pinterest and couldn’t stop. I don’t know what came over me, maybe some type of love deity, but I started thinking about you and Y/N in a classic love film in, like, black and white and I…”

She’s out of breath from animatedly explaining.

Spencer laughs through his nose, almost a scoff, but he’s impressed. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the Penelope Garcia.

As Spencer wanders towards the first board, Garcia follows him like a shadow, “My personal favourite is-“ She points to a picture of chocolate fondue with faceless people in very little clothing, “-this one.”

Spencer awkwardly clears his throat when he begins to think of you and him like that.

“A little much for your declaration of love, though, I get it,” Garcia nods.

He scans the board – heart speeding up when he moves from idea to idea and picturing you and him in each one. He can’t help but think no, that one would be good for our anniversary – ah, she’d love to do that one for her birthday.

“What’re you thinking?” Garcia asks quietly. She knows his brain is whirring like her computer drive, so she approaches him gently.

“This one.” He says. “Where should we do it?”

Garcia grins behind him. The one he’s referring to shows a dinner table set up outside, brown wooded table with white wooden chairs opposite eachother. There’s flowers at the centre, a bottle of wine already poured in each glass in front of a basket of cookies, and the area around is shrouded by shrubbery, fairy lights hanging delicately from every-which-way.

It’s perfect. You love fairy lights, Spencer loves cookies, and the set-up looks private enough for Spencer to feel confident when he empties his heart and soul to you.

“The roof.” Garcia says wistfully.

“We have access to that?”

“Yes.” They both know they don’t. “Leave it to me. Oh… one more thing.” She adds, hesitantly, “Can Morgan help? I’m a lot of things, including emotionally strong and your love guru, but physically I’m gonna need some assistance.”

Spencer doesn’t even need to agree – Morgan’s gonna involve himself no matter what.

+++

Five o’clock is quickly approaching and you’re slumped over your desk, lost in your work. You need to be lost in it, because ever since Garcia released Spencer from her office right after lunch he’s been sneaking glances at you (he’s not sneaky) and has made several attempts to approach you but decided against it, sharply turning and pretending he meant to go another way instead.

You are beyond confused. You assume it’s to do with the girl he’s been trying to get over – you hope he’s been trying to build the confidence to tell you exactly what happened and maybe, you really hope, he’ll invite you over for the weekend so you can slip back into your old routine.

“Psst.”

You assume they’re not trying to get your attention, so you don’t move.

“Psst!”

You still don’t move.

“Y/N!”

Your head snaps up to Spencer leaning over the divider between your desks. He looks alarmed – which is odd, given he’s the one who called you – and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

“Are you busy tonight?” He sits back and, if he wasn’t so goddamn tall, all you’d be able to see would be his eyes. His added height means you can see his eyes and his nose. You wanna kiss it.

You smile – this is an olive branch, “I am completely available for whatever it is you might need.”

You sound incredibly eager, which you are. You miss him.

His cheeks move upwards, a smile, “Can I talk to you, later, on the roof? Uh-“ He clears his throat, “-I need to tell you something.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You’re not gonna push me off, right?”

“No,” He laughs.

“Promise me.”

Now he guffaws, “I would never, Y/N!”

“Promise me, Reid!”

“Alright, alright! I promise!” He’s jokingly raising his hands in a form of surrender.

You give him another smile and turn back to your work. You feel at ease, now, thinking he’s finally gonna tell you what happened on the weekend – finally you’ll be able to help him and go back to normal.

Spencer, on the other hand, is the exact opposite of ease. He’s about to pour his heart out to you.

He takes a deep breath and looks back to his computer, which is open on a tab titled “How to Tell Someone You Like Them.”

Step 3: Be Confident.

Spencer opens a new tab and searches, “How to be confident.”

+++

Garcia hacks into Spencer’s computer to open a document and type that the roof is ready. She wishes him luck, tells him she loves him, and calls dibs on being the godmother of your future children. As if she doesn’t have enough godchildren as it is.

He clears his throat and your head snaps towards him. You’ve been done for a while, playing Tetris on your phone, waiting for Spencer to take you to the roof where he swears he won’t kill you – you’re not entirely convinced.

“Um-“ He scratches his neck, “You ready to go?”

You nod and give him a weak smile in hopes it gives him some type of reassurance.

“Whatever happened, it’s okay, Spence.”

All he does is nod in return, gathering his coat and bag. He doesn’t really register what you say, or he would’ve been very confused.

You follow him up to the roof. The elevator ride is silent and Spencer is jittery; his hands twitch and tap against his legs, he’s bouncing on his toes and he keeps looking at you through the corner of his eye. You’ve taken several deep breaths to calm your racing heart – you hate heights, and this is the closest you’ve been to Spencer in a week. This will be the longest conversation you’ve had with him in a week, too.

The second the doors open, Spencer leaps in front of you.

“Wait!”

You jump back in surprise, “What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Completely fine. Just… when we get there, let me explain first, okay? Before you say anything.” He’s pleading, as if you’ve already told him no. You look at him with furrowed brows and mumble an ‘okay’.

You’re visibly confused as you trek up the flight of stairs to the roof. Spencer pushes open the fire door and the first thing you notice is how bright the roof is – you always assumed it’d be dark, little light, especially at night like this.

Wait.

There’s fairy lights… everywhere. You’re pretty sure this isn’t the norm for the FBI roof.

Spencer is equally as awed at what he sees before him - it’s exactly the photo he saw in Garcia’s cave brought to life, but he’s too distracted by you to fully appreciate it. You look like a child on Christmas; eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly agape. You’re gorgeous.

“What…is this, Spence?” You wonder, noticing the set table, fingers grazing the roses that sit in a vase in the middle. They’re fresh and smell wonderful.

He stands a little behind you, fiddling with his hands, and clears his throat, “Would you like to take a seat?”

You do. When he finally sits, he pours you a glass of wine and you immediately take an anxious sip. Although Rossi is a big fan of wine, you rarely take interest in it only when Spencer’s involved. You’ve come to associate wine with him – a smile peeks out from your glass as you stare at the man opposite you.

“I need to get something off my chest. But there’s cookies, if you want one,” He picks one up from his plate, breaking it in half and giving it to you. He’s stalling, but you seem to take the bait and bite into it.

“Are these from the bakery two blocks away?”

“Yeah,” He replies, but he isn’t really paying attention. He doesn’t know where to begin.

You wait patiently for him to open up. You’re still unsure of what to make of all of this – the beautiful setting, the wine, the flowers, the lights. God, the lights are dazzling in the Virginia night sky. You need context, and you need it now.

“Spence-“

“Listen.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I just…” He trails off, “I need to say what I need to say before I back out again.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You’re ready for whatever’s to come.

“Do you know how long we’ve known eachother?” He asks. His head tilts like a puppy.

“Nearly five years. Our friendaversary is coming up, you know.”

You realise, then, that this must be a celebration for that – that explains the… typically romantic setting. Before you can open your mouth to ask if that what’s this is, Spencer speaks.

“Four years, three-hundred and sixty days. That’s how long we’ve known eachother.”

“If we were dating, we would’ve been my longest relationship the second we passed a year.”

You don’t know why you said it, but it flusters him. He has to pause to take a breath and collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been in love with you for four years and three hundred and fifty-eight days, Y/N.”

It’s silent as you process and he figures out how to continue.

“I knew you were special when you were introduced to us. Hotch already had such a soft spot for you, and you had this way about you that made us all fall in love instantly. I remember Garcia did a background check the second she found out your name and she said you remind her of me and I… that freaked me out, to be honest. I thought you’d try to replace me.” He huffs a laugh, but can’t bring himself to look you in the eye, “I realised I was in love with you when you drunkenly defended me. Do you remember that?” His eyes flicker to yours for half a second – you’re wide-eyed, “You’d known me for two days at that point, but we’d already done a case together so we were celebrating. And these guys at the bar were whispering about me, acting like I couldn’t hear them, and the second you realised what was happening you stood up, stormed towards them and gave them a piece of your mind. It was incredible.

“You barely knew me, at least personally, but you thought so highly of me you scolded a group of drunk bodybuilders without a second thought. You made them apologise – it was hysterical watching someone half their size force them into submission like that – and when you were done you asked if I wanted to leave and go get ice cream. We couldn’t, cause you vomited on the way there, but I knew in that moment I loved you and I feel so hard, so quickly, I didn’t know what to do. And you never… you never indicated you thought of me as anything other than a friend so I didn’t try. Then you dated Greg who, in my opinion, sucked on his best days, and you encouraged me to date Abigail and I…”

He’s run out of breath and of things to say.

“I just love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.” He adds, “I hope that’s okay.”

He finally looks at you, then. You’re just staring and he panics when he can’t make out what you’re feeling. He’s always been able to read you, you’ve always hated the saying that eyes are the windows to the soul because your eyes are always your tell, but now they’re… glassy.

You’re crying.

“Spencer…” You gasp, throat tight.

“It’s okay.” Spencer gives a tight-lipped smile. He knows what’s coming. He should’ve expected it. He has been expecting it.

“I love you too, Spence.”

Spencer chokes on air. He takes a gulp of wine.

You give him a teary smile in disbelief, “I’ve always loved you, Spence. I thought you knew that – I thought that big brain of yours knew exactly how I felt and… you didn’t do anything about it so I thought you didn’t feel the same. Spencer…”

He slowly moves a hand to place it palm-up on the table. Immediately you place your hand in his, your grip tight as you lovingly stare at him. This feels unreal.

“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.” You half laugh, half cry, “If you’ve really loved me this long, we’ve wasted so much time! God, we’re both idiots.”

Spencer’s crying too, now, and he starts laughing with you.

You’re two idiots in love, sitting opposite eachother on the roof of your place of work in a dream-like surrounding filled with fairy lights and flowers, and you could’ve been doing this for years.

Spencer sniffles, looking at you through his wet eyelashes, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“If I say yes, will I get more dates like this?” You tease.

“Well, Garcia has a whole evidence board of date ideas she stole from Pinterest. We have enough ideas to last a lifetime.” He giggles.

“Penny was in on this?!”

Spencer gives a heh, “This is all thanks to her, so yeah.”

“She’s always had our backs.”

“She’s also now going to be convinced she’s cupid.”

You laugh again, and can’t help yourself when you lean across the table, still gripping Spencer’s hand, and letting your lips fall on his. Spencer leans into you, lips moving against yours as you both try to suppress grins.

You pull back slightly, Spencer’s lips following you, and whisper, “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

He kisses you again. And again. And again, just cause he can.

Big plan, big payoff. You’re worth every little stress and more.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #garcia is watching everything through the security cameras btw #you think she'd do all this and NOT watch her hard work flourish?#think AGAIN

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sunlightwoo · 3 years

Text

Burning

pairing: minghao x g.n reader

genre: fake dating, secret admirer au, slow burn kinda pining au, there’s your usual angst and fluff, some humor but yeah heheh

wc: 2546

summary: you've been getting random letters and gifts from a secret admirer that you knew nothing about, but something about them seemed familiar. however, how could you even find a way to find them to reject their feelings when your best friend asks you to play his fake significant other to win over his crush?

a/n: IT IS IIIIIII YOUR SECRET SANTA @viastro :))) i was absolutely shitting myself when you kept asking me if i had you and i was like hOW THE HELL DID SHE KNOW??? but anyways, i hope this really slaps you hard in the heart bro and i am so sorry that this is not my best work cause i’ve been so busy HUGOSGFNOEAGFOAE i love you lots and wish you special hugs and cuddles <3

maybe it was someone that you knew that could’ve been pranking you in this very moment. there was no way that you could actually have a secret admirer, right? after getting these random poems and lyrics that were written on little colorful letters in perfect handwriting, you were sure that there wasn’t a possible reason that someone could be sending it to you. you weren’t special.

“y/n! what are you looking at?” you hear someone call from behind you and turn to see that it was one of your friends, Minghao.

you give him a soft smile as you showed him another letter that you’ve received this week, the fifth one in a row. his eyes sparkle in amusement as you watch him skim the poetic words that were written on the paper before handing it back to you.

“they sound quite romantic, in all honesty.” he replies, giving you a warm smile as you nodded in response.

“yeah they do,” you reply as the thoughts that you were echoing in your mind continued to run around your head.

but they aren’t you.

It was another day that you were finally going to confess to your crush when you saw him already walking down the hall to meet you at your locker. There was confusion on your face when you noticed how distressed he looked in the moment and it wasn’t something normal for you to witness when it was about Minghao.

He was usually composed, as you were the one that was never at peace with yourself when all that you have been getting is letters and gifts whenever you walk into your literature lecture hall. However you were curious and slightly worried at his phase in the moment, seeing as though he seemed out of breath and you assumed that he must’ve ran here from his previous class to catch you out of your recent math class that just ended.

“I need a favor,” He breathes out softly and you wait for him to catch his breath before looking at him expectantly to finish his thought, knowing that there was never a time that he asked for favors, which meant that this must’ve been serious.

“Is everything okay?” You ask quietly and he shakes his head in response, looking up at you momentarily as he placed his hands on top of his knees.

“I need you to play my fake significant others for a few days, because this person is so close to being a stalker and she won’t back off if it’s you.” He breathes out as you look at him in confusion while having difficulty processing with the words that left his lips.

“You need me to, what?”

You remember him mentioning a couple months back when you started the spring semester of a girl that really liked him, to the point where she was willing to do anything for him at all. However, it seemed as though it must’ve been getting out of hand considering he was willing to run all the way to the other side of campus to find you, which meant that it was a serious matter.

“Why can’t you just file a restraining order on her?” You ask him in confusion, walking with him back to your shared apartment on campus while you listened to him explain his side of the story from what must’ve happened to him.

You listened to him intently, wondering why someone must’ve gone through all that trouble to show someone that they were interested in them, when you remembered today’s letter that you’ve received from the person that leaves their name with the line of an infinite symbol. It was selfish of you, you think to yourself, to not like the person’s way of trying to get your attention, but you couldn’t help but not focus on them but instead your best friend.

The one person that you could ever harbor feelings for.

It happened on a winter night after finals this year where you weren’t caring for your physical health, not eating proper meals or sleeping enough to study and help ace your exams. It wasn’t until Minghao showed up at your bedroom door with takeout, some tea and bad rom coms while cuddling together in your bed that night you recognized the blooming feelings for your best friend.

“So you want me to pretend to be your significant other?” You spoke slowly, speaking up after he finishes to give him a look of amusement and he nods in response, letting out a breath knowing that he was upset for having to ask for a favor with you until he lights up with an idea.

“It can help you find your secret admirer! You know, like they can see us together and they either finally confront you and tell you your feelings thinking that it’s too late or they just move on.” He points out and you hum in response, contemplating on which side of the bait to take onto the challenge but he did make a good point.

“So we start tomorrow then?”

The following day you notice that at the front of the lecture hall of your class once again stood a bunch of flowers and different gifts awaiting for you as your professor had already given you the familiar look of amusement. Handing you the new note that was yet to be read today, you looked at the neat penmanship that was sprawled onto it and read it thoroughly as you could feel heat rush up to your cheeks while reading it.

i heard that you were now dating minghao, the arts major, and i wanted to say congratulations. it seems as though i was too late and i understand that i should’ve confessed sooner. i wish the two of you all the happiness in the world, and maybe someday i will show you who i am and we can be just friends.

i’ll be rooting for you from the sidelines, y/n!

Marked with another infinite sign, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you closed the envelope in your hands, putting it into your bag when suddenly you felt someone’s presence behind you. Turning to see Minghao close by, he gives you a small smile until he notices the gifts nearby, raising an eyebrow at the sight of it when you move aside to show him today’s gifts.

“They said that they’ll back off because we are ‘dating’.” You say while putting air quotes around the words dating and he lets out a soft chuckle before taking your hand into his just for a moment.

“I mean, we do have to act like it because of the person standing at the door.” He replies and you look over his shoulder slightly to see the girl that had been stalking him pretty recently, already giving you a death glare as you could tell that she was pretty upset at the sight in front of her.

“It’s only for a couple months right? Nothing more than that, and no kissing in public?” You reassured after referencing the wishes that you wanted to put in terms of barriers between your fake relationship, knowing that it was all going to be fake and fabricated from your imagination.

“Just as long as she’s over it, and you’re comfy.” He replies and you nod in response, taking your seats in time for the lecture as your hand was still being held in his.

The feeling of your hand in his made your cheeks heat up at the proximity considering he continued to hold it throughout the entire of your lecture along with the rest of the day. It was something so minimal that you didn’t expect for it to mean a lot to you at all, nor did you think that it was a big action of affection where it was possible to produce butterflies in your stomach.

You felt like you were spiraling even more.

It wasn’t until it was finally at the end of the day that you made it back to your shared apartment that the two of you decided to take a break from the hand holding and crash on the couch with takeout on the table.

“So your secret admirer no longer wants to show up?” Minghao suddenly asks as he eats the general tso chicken that was on his portion of rice, and you hummed in response, taking a bite of the vegetable dumpling that you ordered for ‘balance’ earlier before turning to look at him with a confused look earlier.

“They said that they’d support from the sidelines, but they want to be friends someday if they reveal themselves,” You say after chewing the rest of your food down and let out a frustrated breath until you spoke up once more after taking a sip of your water, “The only thing is… their handwriting looks so familiar and I can’t put my finger on whose handwriting it is.”

He lets out a quiet hum as the two of you continue to eat in the small silence while your mind ponders all the letters that you received from the secret admirer. You knew that they were an art major and that their signature ended with an infinite sign, along with certain things that they always pointed out about you that you never knew about yourself.

They began to sound like they were a part of your close circle, when you thought about it more and wondered who’s handwriting could match the one of your secret admirer. However, your brain could only come up with nothing up until the moment that you were snapped out of your mind with the stinging sensation of Minghao flicking your forehead.

“You’re zoning out again, and it made you look constipated.” He bluntly says with a grin on his face, making you let out a noise in retortion when he suddenly feeds you an eggroll to stop the arguments that were ready to spill out of your mouth.

How to not pretend that your heart was not burning because of your unrequited feelings for him? A challenge that you were willing to take for the next upcoming months that you were yet to discover.

You regret the words that you had said back a couple weeks ago when you thought that you could keep your feelings in control. It was everything that you wanted to bite back, especially since the winter season was now in session and that it was close to the holidays that were yet to arrive.

There were no more gifts from your admirer but rather from Minghao, as he was still pretending to be your fake boyfriend to scare away his stalker. The only thing confusing you was that they never showed up ever since after your Thanksgiving break, making you wonder why Minghao was still keeping up with the act when you knew that he should’ve stopped the fake relationship at the moment.

It all ended up in the cafe that you were at, looking outside to see the snow that was falling down from the sky and watching how couples walked up and down the streets, hand in hand as they were warm with the other’s presence. You wished that yours were that genuine as you struggled to find the right words to tell your best friend that you were in love with him, and that you didn’t want to keep the act going.

“Why can’t I stop myself from falling for you?” You breathe out quietly more towards yourself as you take a sip of your coffee, up until you see one of the workers from behind the bar walk up to your table to slip you a napkin with stuff on it.

“Someone called in and told me to give it to you.” They said and you recognized him to be a classmate of yours, Jun, from your art studies class.

Watching him walk away in silence, you furrowed your eyebrows as you wondered what the note could be when you started to read it. The handwriting was familiar and you were confused as to why it matched the secret admirer’s when it was telling you to meet at the park that was close by to your apartment, making it even more contradicting as to who they really were.

Did they want to meet you now?

Grabbing your jacket, you decided to leave the cafe and go to the park nearby your house like it said to with anticipation in your veins. There was something about the rush that ran through your system that made you want to believe that it could’ve been Minghao, but you were also scared of the idea of it being someone else, since you could’ve bear the idea of rejecting someone else’s feelings; the feeling itself already being unbearable to go through.

After a while, you finally do make it to the park and you take in the beautiful scene of the white snow surrounding you. The coldness of the wind nipped at your skin as you forgot to bring your scarf, but you didn’t mind it as the burning of your heart and cheeks from the thought of meeting your secret admirer was still in your mind.

Until he shows up.

“Minghao? What-”

“Surprised to see me?” He whispers softly, hands in the pockets of his coat when you were finally piecing it together in your head and everything made sense.

“It was you the whole time?! Why didn’t you just confess to me, and let me embarrass myself the whole time?” You asked while letting out a small laugh as you reached one of your legs to playfully kick him when he laughs as well, shrugging in response as you watched the snowflakes fall into his hair.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, since you were my best friend. Besides, I thought that fake dating would’ve been a solution to my stalker problem, which was why I stopped sending you gifts as infinite the moment we started.” He replies and you smiled a bit at the fact that he was being a little too much in this very time that you were standing in front of him.

“So what? You just decide to torture me and make me believe that we were in a fake relationship, so that the both of us can avoid confronting the other about actually dating?” You retort, suddenly feeling the sadness of the missed weeks that you both cou;d’ve actually dated if you’d told your affection towards him sooner.

There was a beat of silence that passed by, in which you could tell that your breaths were becoming one with the other in the moment that you were staring at one another with the snow falling around you. However, it was different as you could tell that there was now a spark that was burning in each of your hearts, ready to become brighter right as he finally asked you the question that you had finally been waiting for him to ask, in which you didn’t hesitate to answer in response to it.

“How about we date for real this time? Second time’s the charm, am I wrong?”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #svtwritersnet #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshots #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen college au #xu minghao #minghao imagines #minghao scenarios #minghao fluff #minghao angst #minghao oneshots

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

SFW Alphabet - Kaminari

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Denki is a very touchy friend. He constantly has an arm wrapped you, nudging you constantly, leaning against you and anything else you can think of. If he’s unable touch you- mainly because of distance- then he’s calling you nicknames.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As an extrovert, friendship started with him coming up to you and flirting, giving you sly grins, winks and anything else that he has up his sleeve. As a best friend, he’s constantly flirting but it’s a bit more toned down or flirts more but it’s much more teasing like- marriage proposals when you’re both forty and single, putting his face close to yours until you shove him away- it all depends on the mood he’s in.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves to cuddle. If you ask him for a cuddle, he is already dragging you to the nearest soft surface and pulling you close to him. He loves being the little spoon and nuzzling into your neck. Alternatively, as long as you’re able to play with his hair, he’s happy.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He eventually wants to settle down. He would like a partner but he doesn’t see himself having an actual committed one until he’s older. He’s fairly okay at both cooking and cleaning. It’s enough where he can make simple dishes and where his room is cluttered but it does have a few empty bottles and pants where they’re not supposed to be.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Face to face. He’ll go to your place and just explain that you two aren’t a good fit for whatever reasons. He tries to be sensitive with your feelings but no breakups ever end on a good note. If he’s left clothes or any of his possessions at your place, they’re already gone. He doesn’t want to have to come back and face you once the breakup has happened.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s not interested in commitment when he’s young. He enjoys his youth, the freedom and fun that comes with it. He only decides to settle down when he’s older, wanting the domestic life that comes with it. Once the relationship does start, he will know fairly early that you’re the one but it’s still a wait until he’s on his knee.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s good at reading your emotions and knowing if you need space or comfort. He enjoys being near you and kissing your wrists and just sitting in silence with you if that’s what you need. He doesn’t need to be popular with you, he doesn’t have to put up a front because you’re there.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs. He’s wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight into his chest with a huge smile on his face. It’s a type of hug where you’re left breathless and giggling at how much he’s into it. You can expect a hug from him at least once a day but will gladly hug you if you ask for it or even hint that you want one.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Despite not being too interested in commitment he says the l-word fairly often. He means it, he does love you but with how often he’s said it, you don’t really believe that it’s the actual meaning. It’s until he’s serious and holding your hands in his and the words leave his mouth that they actually mean something.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Denki is a fairly positive person, always happy and making friends with other but when you’re being hit on, he gets possessive. His arm is around you and he’s planting a kiss on your cheek and talking to you like the other person doesn’t even exist. If you scold him and continue to talk to the person, he’s bound to sulk in a corner until you hold his hand.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

All types of kisses. Quick, little ones. Deep, passionate ones. Ones where it’s a mix and he’s holding onto your face or hands that dip to your hips. He loves to kiss you on your lips, he loves how personal and intimate it all is and how he can feel your smile against his lips. If you kiss him on his jaw, he’s putty in your hands.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Children love him. He’s just so energetic and friendly that kids feel safe around him. He loves being around little kids, they’re so easy to impress and they usually love his quirk because it reminds them of a certain mascot.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

A morning with him is usually where you both lay in bed awake for a few minutes and just sort of wait until you can both move without feeling as if you’re going to fall over. Usually you both are still curled into each other or even just holding hands.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are spent with him giggling in bed to a joke or memory of the day, with him nuzzled into your chest of you into his neck. It’s late nights where you to watch a Vine compilation and quote them, convulsing into a fit of giggles where once it’s quiet, laughter fills the room all over again until your stomach hurts.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s not secretive about his life in the slightest except it’s more like he won’t say anything unless asked or mentions it nonchalantly. He’ll be cleaning and then mention some memory as if he were asking you what you wanted for lunch. Usually if you do ask him to reveal some personal stuff, he’ll just ask what you really want to hear and he’ll tell you. He trusts you enough to allow his form of secrecy to go down.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He usually isn’t angered quite easily until he’s pushed. He has a surprising amount of patience where he can tolerate most things. It’s until he’s jealous that he’s actually a bit more annoyed. However, once he’s angered, he becomes very agitated and sometimes will shoot out little sparks. He’s a lot more bratty during these situations, complaining, making pouty faces and the works.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Denki tries to remember more of the everyday stuff. Like your medication, favorite food, specific things that come up more often than like little ticks of yours. He knows if you dislike the taste of something but he won’t be able to remember why.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

One of his favorite moments in the relationship is when he came home from patrol, ragged and weary, and you’re still awake, waiting up for him, you whisper, opening your arms for him to rest. He’s stressed and hands are limp and you’re playing with his hair, singing him a song and with closed eyes, you whisper that you love him and little sparks jostle you awake and he’s asleep with a smile on his face.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s fairly protective of you. Always wants to be your knight in shining armor and proudly wrapping an arm around you and pulling you away from a situation that you’re in. If you’re being physically threatened, he’s pushing you behind him and puffing out his chest. If you were to protect him, he likes it when you snap at the offender, insults spewing and fists balled up. He likes to be held afterwards.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s the cliché things, chocolates, flowers, balloons, and what not where you scoff and roll your eyes. You have a collection of different themed plush animals hiding somewhere in a closet. Usually for bigger dates like anniversaries and birthdays, things are a bit more lowkey, dinners and handwritten poems that aren’t usually good but it’s sweet and the thought that counts. You keep the collection safe in a binder decorated in pictures of both of you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Old habits die hard. He can’t help flirting with others, a coy smile on his face, eyes that shine and an attitude that won’t quit. He’s still very committed to you and he doesn’t even realize that he’s flirting until you give him a look.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He takes care of himself. He has a whole night routine that that he follows regularly. He always makes sure that he looks groomed and well taken care of.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. Once he loves you, an actual love where he just sees you and mind goes blank and he can’t stop the smile that’s growing, he would feel incomplete if you were gone. He likes to joke you’re the better half but ever joke holds some truth to it. Losing you would leave him feeling empty and a constant what-if.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If you start singing, he’s bound to join in. If he doesn’t know the lyrics, he’s mumbling and belting out the words he can make out. He’s holding your hands and pulling you into a dance. If you’re driving, he’s bouncing in your seat and looking at you and doing all sort of motions.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn’t like people who badmouth others. He finds it distasteful and will become a bit more aggressive and dismissive. He doesn’t mind the occasional rant because that’s what it is, a rant to just vent off your feelings but when you make a snide comment about someone’s appearance, he isn’t taking that lightly.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sleep talks. Often times the sentences are barley coherent, just little whispers about the toaster. There have been times where he’ll say sentences out loud and they’re a bit alarming; always “Who’s that?” or “Check the closet.” Sometimes you wonder if he’s just messing with you and he promises he’s not but he has been known to be cheeky. You’ll either get a good night sleep or a night full of paranoia.

#kaminari x reader #bnha kaminari #kaminari headcanons #bnha kaminari x reader #denki x reader #sfw alphabet #i hope you enjoyed these #he was actually p hard to like write for #im not super proud of these but i couldn't find any other way to improve or get his character dowm #so #wow i misspelled a lot of words there #oh well #anyways #bye!#feedback is always appreaciateed #bnha

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bobdylanrevisited · 3 years

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Blonde On Blonde

Released: 20 June 1966

Rating: 10/10

The finale of the electric trilogy, another masterpiece that pushes the boundaries of Dylan’s singing and penmanship. He described this album as the closest he’s ever gotten to the noises in his head, a thin mercury sound, metallic and bright gold. It was also the first double sided rock album, and his first without an acoustic track, with Dylan continuing to blaze a trail in popular music. Although this album may not be as ‘deep’ as its predecessors, it’s still a thrilling musical adventure that again makes you forget his folk origins, and embrace his role as the leader of a new style of ‘pop’ song.

1) Rainy Day Women No. 12 & 35 - The look on people’s faces when the album opened with this must have been one to behold, it sounds nothing like the Bob we know and love. It’s more like a Mardi Gras parade, with trumpets blaring and the band’s joyous screams, all revolving around a pun on the word ‘stoned’. It’s a brilliant opener, both upbeat, funny, and unlike anything that came before it. Whether the song refers to weed, hedonism, his pious status, or the ancient punishment, it’s hard to argue that ‘everybody must get stoned’.

2) Pledging My Time - A severe change of gear for this track, a much slower blues number, which reworks a number of older blues lyrics, to describe the promise to a lover in the hopes that they will reciprocate the feeling. It’s a fine song, though it does get somewhat lost on the album due to the longevity many of the other tracks have endured.

3) Visions Of Johanna - Generally agreed to be one of the finest songs ever written, it’s no wonder this has remained one of Dylan’s favourites ever since. It’s a colossal piece, proving that no matter what instruments are on the track, the writing is still the soul of what Dylan is doing. Not only are the vocals among the best he’s ever recorded, the song weaves a vivid picture of his strive for perfection. Much like the previous two albums, Bob uses metaphor and surreal imagery to express personal emotion and you can’t help but hang on his every word. You are transported into a dreamlike state, also searching for Johanna and your own personal idea of flawlessness, though for me that may very well just be this song.

4) One Of Us Must Know (Sooner Or Later) - A song about the ending of a relationship, which should be a bleak affair, but I can’t help but singalong and grin as I listen to this brilliant tune. Although it dissects and defends bad behaviours that caused the couple to sour, the instrumentation and the rousing chorus are a joy to hear, and it’s easily one of my favourite tracks on the album.

5) I Want You - At odds with the previous track, this a sweet love song, once again populated my characters and imagery that only Dylan could conjure up. Much like the rest of the album, the tune and melody of this song are remarkably beautiful, and this is certainly Dylan’s most musically ambitious, yet accessible album so far, with this track being another highlight. The song has also been reworked a lot live, and sounds just as beautiful as a ballad, which Dylan played a lot in the late 80s/early 90s.

6) Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again - I think this may be my favourite song on the album, with apologies to Johanna. Whilst it’s simply just another surreal story with a mad cast of people, I absolutely adore it. Again, the tune is catchy and fun, the singing is perfect, and the whole thing comes together to be a track that fills me with indescribable happiness. The live Hard Rain 1976 version is also phenomenal, it’s impossible for this song to sound anything other than amazing.

7) Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat - A satire on fashion, and a lover continuing to wear her new hat in increasingly compromising situations, this is another blues song with a great guitar arrangement and sounded brilliant on the 1966 Live tour. It’s not one of my favourites on the album, but it’s a good song that talks of jealousy and materialism, with the bluesy sound being the main attraction.

8) Just Like A Woman - Potentially written about Edie Sedgwick, this sounds like one of Dylan’s tenderest songs, but the lyrics are actually full of vulnerability and regret. One of Bob’s most popular songs, possibly due to the gentle tune and the grounded imagery, I’ve personally always found it a tiny bit overrated in comparison with the rest of the album, though I understand it is an easy introduction to Dylan for the average listener. However, I will admit that the song is spellbinding when performed live, particularly on the 1966 tour.

9) Most Likely You Go Your Way And I’ll Go Mine - A very literal tale of a breakup, this is again another song that feels joyous despite the content. The guitars and drums add a very fun layer to the tune, and it’s another track that hasn’t got a deep message, but is just a brilliantly sung rock song that helps make this album the most musically enjoyable yet.

10) Temporary Like Achilles - Another blues number about a breakup and a new lover. There’s not much to write about this one, other than it’s again a fun tune, this time revolving around a double entendre: ‘honey, why are you so hard?’

11) Absolutely Sweet Marie - This is another catchy tune, and whilst it’s still influenced by the blues, it is more upbeat. Much like the previous track it’s full of innuendo, but it sounds like a ‘pop’ song that you may hear on the radio, with a more restrained style of singing from Bob. It’s another fine song which would be considered more a filler track, if not for the line ‘to live outside the law you must be honest’, which is one of his most quoted lyrics. It shows that even when he’s not telling a mad story or protesting injustice, he’s still the world’s best songwriter and can toss legendary lines into a largely throwaway song.

12) Fourth Time Around - Written as a response to The Beatles ‘Norwegian Wood’, Dylan uses this dark tale of a lover’s fight to take aim at John Lennon’s ‘new’ style of writing, that sounded an awful lot like it had been stolen from Bob. Musically, it is the same as ‘Norwegian Wood’, with the last line warning ‘I never asked for your crutch, now don’t ask for mine’. Basically, Bob’s telling John not to take his style, whilst also perfectly showing the world that he’s still the best at storytelling and his brand of unique phrasing. This song would haunt John Lennon for some time, as he was paranoid about Dylan’s feelings towards him, but in the end Lennon went in a new direction and Bob remained friends with The Beatles, so any beef seem to be short lived.

13) Obviously Five Believers - Much like previous tracks, another bluesy tune with lyrics about a relationship and wild backing musicians, this is a good little song to dance and singalong with. Robbie Robertson’s guitar playing is particularly impressive on this track, and his playing throughout the whole album is one of the highlights.

14) Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands - Bob had married Sara Lownds three months earlier, and this 11 minute poem of love, beauty, strength, and heavenly romance is an incredible tribute to her. Though much of the album is filled with sombre lyrics about relationships ending and striving for a perfect woman, the closing track is all about how Bob has found what he has been searching for. It’s a gorgeous song that is not only some of his most heartfelt writing, it’s a uncompromising wedding vow that is full of genuine emotion and is brimming with positivity, something Dylan doesn’t often write about. It’s an incredible conclusion to the album, and to this period of his career.

Verdict: Once again, my hyperbolic words can’t do this album or career period justice, for a 25 year old to release three culture changing masterpieces in the space of 15 months is unfathomable. Whilst it could seem somewhat ‘sell out’ with the more radio friendly songs, the whole album is just a thrillingly perfect journey through Dylan’s emotions and experiences, relationships ending, searching for meaning, and finally finding happiness. This album once again includes some of the best songs and singing of his entire career, and the overall sound throughout the record is much more mature and composed. Even the tracks that seem a little more filler are still brilliantly written songs that eclipsed the popular music that was being released at the time. The album is my (joint) second favourite thing he’s ever released, and sadly it would be the last of this particular ‘Bob Dylan’, as he was once again about to cocoon and re-emerge a new man. Following a motorcycle accident in 1966, and his settling down with his new wife and children, the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle was about to be abandoned for a more mellow, more relaxed, and more ‘country’ sound.

#bob dylan #blonde on blonde

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fyeahhozier · 5 years

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The Irishman is deeper and darker than he's maybe been given credit for... but the geniality and swoon factor remain high.

Variety: Hozier Proves He’s a Career Artist in Gratifying Greek Show

At Hozier’s sold-out show at L.A.’s Greek Friday night, one of the first things you couldn’t help noticing on stage —because it’s still an anomaly — was that his eight-piece lineup was half-male, half-female. Knowing his penchant for socially conscious songs, his decrial of “the anthems of rape culture” in his lyrics, and a general female-friendliness to his appeal, it’s easy to figure this gender parity is a conscious one and think: That is soooo Hozier. Which it is … and so effective, too, like just about every choice he’s made so far in his short, charmed career. On the most practical level, if you can bring in that much female harmony while also getting ace players in the bargain, why wouldn’t you? But it also makes for a good visual emblem of some of the other dual energies Hozier is playing with in his music: darkness and enlightenment; romantic hero and cad; raw blues dude and slick pop hero. He’s got a lot more going on than just being an earnest do-gooder. (Although he does do good, earnestly.)

During Friday’s hour-and-three-quarters set, Hozier focused largely on material from this year’s sophomore album, “Wasteland, Baby!,” which sounded good enough on record but almost uniformly improved in the live experience. Sometimes the upgrade came from making full use of the multi-instrumentalists on hand. The first album’s “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene” now had Hozier on guitar facing off against violinist Emily Kohavi, trading solos — and if it’s hard to hear an electric guitar/fiddle duel without automatically thinking “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” it was one of many welcome moments making use of the MVP skills of Kohavi, the newest addition to the band. Other times, the improvements on the album versions just had to do with Hozier allowing himself louder and gutsier guitar tones. He’s a bit like Prince, in that way — someone you’d happily listen to playing a very nasty-sounding six-string all night, although he has so many other stylistic fish to fry, which in this case means a still slightly greater emphasis on acoustic finger-picking.

For somebody who made his name on as forlorn but powerful an anthem as his 2014 breakout smash “Take Me to Church,” and who can milk that melodrama for all it’s worth, Hozier has a lot of other modes he can default to. He treads very lightly into the area of soul with songs like “Almost (Sweet Music),” the lyrics of which consist of either name-checking or alluding to some of the great jazz vocal classics of the 20th century, in an idiom that’s not so much jazzy itself as folk-R&B. You could almost cite it as the subtle kind of Memphis-swing thing Justin Timberlake should aspire to, if the tricky polyrhythm and oddly chopped up meters Hozier adds as wrinkles weren’t so un-replicable. Bringing up Stevie Wonder’s “Living for the City” as the night’s sole cover also established that early ‘70s era and sound as an influences he’d like to make perfectly clear. At the other extreme, this son of a blues musician can hard back to those roots so well, in noisy numbers like “Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue)” and the brand new “Jack Boot Jump,” that he could give the Black Keys a run for their money.

“Jack Boot Jump,” which is scheduled to go on an EP of completely fresh material that Hozier said he plans to put out before Christmas, was possibly the highlight of the night, even though — or because — it stripped his excellent band down to just him and longtime drummer Rory Doyle. Having earlier played the current album’s “Nina Cried Power,” which is maybe more of a tribute to other historic protest songs than one of its own, Hozier gave a lengthy introduction to “Jack Boot” indicating that he’s aware of the traps that come with the territory. “I do have some reservations about the words ‘protest song’ and ‘protest music,’” he admitted. “But if you’re familiar with an artist called Woody Guthrie, he wrote the evergreen anthem ‘Tear the Fascists’ down. I was kind of looking into songs in that sort of tradition, that singing out, and I was worried that this is 2019; it’s a very unsubtle way to approach songwriting.” But, he added, “it was a funny few weeks, with 70 people shot in Hong Kong and arrests obviously in Moscow; Chile now at the moment also. And I was thinking, forget about subtle art — what is not subtle is this murder of protesters, and what is not subtle is the jack boot coming down in Orwell’s picture of the future: ‘If you want to imagine the future, imagine a jack boot stomping on a human face forever,’ that chilling quote from ‘1984.’ Anyway, I was just thinking, yeah, f— it, it’s not subtle, but let’s do it.” His electric guitar proceeded to be a machine that kills fascists, and also just slayed as maybe the most rock ‘n’ roll thing he’s written. (Evidence of the new song on the web is scant, or should be, anyway, since he begged the audience “in good faith” not to film it.)

If there’s a knock people have on Hozier, it tends to be the sincerity thing. He’s a nice guy who’s finishing first, which doesn’t necessarily help him become an indie-rock darling or Pitchfork favorite. (Predictably, “Wasteland, Baby!” got a 4.8 rating there — that’s out of 10, not 5.) At the Greek, there was an almost wholesome feeling that would’ve been an immediate turnoff to anyone who insists on having their rock rough, starting with his graciousness in repeatedly naming the band members and repeatedly thanking his opening act (Madison Ryann Ward, a fetchingly husky-voiced Oklahoman filling in on this part of the tour for a laryngitis-stricken Freya Ridings). That extended to a sense of uplift in many of the songs that doesn’t always match the themes of the material. But then, there was the impossible good cheer and attractiveness of the young players, to match Hozier’s own; this is a group where everyone looks as if they could be in Taylor Swift’s band or actually looks like Taylor Swift. The swoon factor in Hozier’s appeal is undeniably high, and it’s safe to say no one left Griffith Park less smitten.

But ladies (and gentlemen), do be aware that Hozier has some dark-side moments that can almost make Leonard Cohen look like Stephen Bishop. The only time he really overtly accentuated that in concert was in introducing and playing the new album’s “No Plan,” a love song that is also an amiable statement of atheism in which Hozier reminds his beloved that the universe is going to collapse upon itself someday. This may be rather like the gambit in which the ‘50s boy gets the girl to make out with him in a fallout shelter, but in any case, Hozier didn’t stint on the end-of-all-things aspect of it, even putting up on screen behind the band a statement from astrophysicist Dr. Katie Mack pointing out humankind’s and the galaxy’s ultimate fate. (“Honestly I never really imagined I’d end up being name-checked in a song for talking about how the universe is eventually going to fade out and die so this is all very exciting for me,” Mack tweeted in replay earlier in the year.) Suffice it to say that with that soulful a vintage ‘70s groove and that fuzz-tastic a guitar line, many babies will be conceived to the tune of “No Plan,” whether it foresees generational lines ending in a godless black hole or not.

Other Hozier songs reveal darker gets more estimable the more you dig into it. With its bird talk, “Shrike” sounds sweet enough, till you realize that a shrike is a kind of bird that impales its prey on thorns, which does add a rather bloody metaphoric undertone to what sounds like a reasonably pacifist breakup song. “Dinner & Diatribes,” meanwhile, is just deeply horny, not thorny. The most brooding song of the set, “Talk,” has verses where Hozier sings in lofty, literary terms about the romantic myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, only to reveal in the chorus that he’s talking to this woman in such high-minded terms because he just wants to charm her into the sack. As a piece of writing, it’s hilarious, establishing a devilish side of Hozier it’s good to hear. As a piece of performance, it’s just sexy.

But as enriching as it is to realize Hozier has a healthy sense of humor in his writing, bad-boy wit is never going to be what you’re going to come away from a Hozier album or show with. The main part of Friday’s concert ended, as expected, with “Take Me to Church,” his outraged take on abuse and homophobia in the scandalized Catholic church — which just happens to be easily taken as a lusty hymn to sexuality. Following that, the large band returned to a stage that had now been decked out in some kind of ivy, as Hozier talked about his love for the late Irish poet Seamus Heaney (whose last words he has tattooed on his arm) and, “since I’ve come this far,” went ahead and recited his poem “Mint,” sharing his hero’s affection for the plant and its “tenacity for life.”

Tenacity is likely to be a buzzword, too, for Hozier, given his leaps and gains as a writer-performer and seeming level head atop his tree-top shoulders. Taller still of voice, musical dexterity and good will — and still just 29 — he’s somebody the swooners and even some cynics should feel good about settling in with for a very long Irish ride.

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bxoken-heartss · 4 years

Text

Christopher Velez: Put a Little Love on Me

A/N: This is a little experiment I tried to do cause this song gave me some soft Chris feels? So I hope y’all like it and comment down your opinions. There are two parts to this.

Words: 6.4K +

Pairings: Christopher V. x Reader

Genre: Heartbreak and fluff

Triggers: Language...

Honorable mentions: @papichriscnco @cnco-hoenesty @ellos-me-vuelven-loca @wwecncoroadtripwhydontwetrash @joelpimenteljs (For being my SPANGLISH Translator! Love ya Bubs! <3 )

GUIDE:

(Y/N): Your name

(Y/N/N): Your nickname

(Y/L/N): Your Last Name

' ' ': Switch of scenes

~ ~ ~ : Line by Line Lyrics scenario ending.

//We fight, We get high holding onto love

We came down cause there was nothing holding us.//

Y/n was Zabdiel's best friend. Ever since the day she had stood up for him and patched him up after that rough fight back in middle school.Ever since that day, the two have been inseparable. The both of them were blessed with beautiful voices, always spending their time practicing hard. So when Zabdiel turned 17, he decided to audition for La Banda. Having originally being from Britain, Y/N had decided to go back to her hometown, Manchester and audition for the X-Factor to prove her worth to the world wanting to pursue a solo career in pop music despite spending half of her childhood in Puerto Rica. But despite the conflicting and busy lives they've had, she was there..there when he needed her, him doing the same. She was absolutely overjoyed and practically launched onto him as she hugged him to pieces as she kept congratulating him. He was there for her last performance...stood beside her and consoled her when she got eliminated from the top 3 finalists.

He was downright disappointed but not for long..The night she lost the X-factor, she had won a couple millions of hearts. She continued to pursue her interest..creating music, covering songs of artists she hoped she'd sing along with one day. Her hard work and determination paid off when she got a call asking her if you was interested of being a part of the ISLAND RECORDS. She was thrilled, ecstatic and overjoyed. And within a span of months, she had made her mark, slowly but an unforgotten mark. Zabdiel was there, like always to support her throughout her important phase of her life. It was harder to be there for each other as they had their own careers to pursue.

But when they had been recording in Miami for their own albums, they could spent plenty of time together. Zabdiel had practically dragged her towards the boys even though she opposed the idea fearing that she'd just fangirl on their faces (She was a huge fan of theirs..). But anyways after a few pleadings from Zabdiel she agreed..She had met them backstage after their final performance but it was pretty rushed and informal. So after she had formally (not that she needed it considering how much she knew about them) been introduced to the three boys (Erick, Richard and Joel) apart from Zabdiel, she began talking to them. After a while she had felt thirsty and excused herself to get some water. She had gotten up from the couch and headed towards the small pantry room in their studio.

"Hermosa no está allí!" Erick yells as he stood up from the couch rushing towards her

But obviously before she could turn around and ask him what he meant she had stumbled on a a thin rope like thing, an icy cold bucket of water emptying onto her, as she fell over.

"Ayyy!! Ya deberías bañarse Zabdie!" A voice says as strings of laughter enters into the room.

Y/N growled as she sat down smoothing her hair, not even bothering to look up at the person. The rest of the boys looked (more like glared at the person who had just entered).

"Ayy...No sabie que tenias novia, Erick." The person speaks as he kneels down

"No es mi novia Papi.." Erick replies rolling his eyes.

Y/N cleared her hair away from her face as she saw an extended hand in front of her face..as she gratefully accepted it.

"Thank you..." She whispers as she looks at the boy straightening her posture.

Christopher Velez..her all time favorite member...

"Noo te precupes...and nena it's my fault..." The boy said as he looked at her.

'Shit...she was downright beautiful....' was all that crossed his mind as he gazed at her

Y/N's gaze shifted from his face to to his shirtless torso. Her face flushed into a shade of pink quickly diverting her gaze when she saw him cover his bare chest with his arms, feeling self conscious all of a sudden.

"Err...Okay! Hasta luego, tengo que ir! adiós Hermosa!" He says as he rushes off casually.

Christopher...Charming as always.

"Mi Amol... Let's get you dried up.. Chris is always - -" Zabdiel begins as he hands her out a towel allowing her to dry herself up

"I know... He's always like that..It's okay Z..Pranks are meant to be taken in a positive manner."

"Okay...well let's get you changed into something comfortable." Zabdiel says as he holds her hand and head towards a room to get clothes for her.

' ' '

"Oh come on! Dry up alreadyy!" Y/N groans as she uses a hair dryer to dry off her hair

Before she can grumble about how much she hated drying her hair, she hears a knock on the door

"Come in..." She says as she keeps drying her almost dry hair

She turns around as she sees Christopher standing next to the door nervously as he looked at her

"Oh come on in...Why are you standing there?"

"Oh...Sorry...I..." He nervously trails off as he closes the door behind and walks towards her.

"Te ves fimilar nos conocemos? " He asks as he looks at her as he thinks about it

"Oh... I'm Zabdiel's friend..Y/N!" She says as she turns towards him extending her hand

"Ah! Zabdie's British best friend...Ah ha...Nice to meet you Mi Amol.." Christopher says as he shakes her hand "I'm Chr- -"

"Christopher Velez...Yes I know you Chris..We have met before...Like once But it was rushed up..Your final performance? You're no stranger to me.." She says as she looks at him

"Ah..I remember now! Well glad to know that.. You're a pop artist right? I've heard a good amount of your songs and you are absolutely beautiful. I mean THEY sound abSoLuTeLY amazing! Not that I'm saying you aren't pretty Hermosa...But I- - " Chris begins

"Thank you..Means a lot from you.." she replies as she looks down trying to hide her light blush

"Well of course! So you listen to Latin Pop?"

"I actually do..."

"Well, so umm..do you listen to our music?" He asks nervously

"I love your music..I love your band! I consider myself a CncOwner!" She states proudly

"Is it - - Is it because Zabdiel is a part of the band?"

"Started off that way...But your music's too good NOT to be heard..."

"Thanks...Appreciate the support!" Christopher says as he smiles at her

"Of course!" She states as she returns the gesture.

"I wanted to apologize..About earlier." He apologizes looking down

"Oh Chris! It happens! It's absolutely fine!" She reassure him

"I swear it wasn't meant for you.."

"It was for Zabdiel...I know..Not like you were expecting me..And for the record..He did need a bath.."

"I know right! I was just being a supportive caring respectful friend.."

"But next time...Keep a little bit warmer water..that was ABSOLUTELY freezing!" She says as she giggles a bit

"Yeah sure...and..one more thing.." He says

"Yes?" She questions

"How did you understand what I was speaking in Spanish?" He asks her

"My mother's from Puerto Rico and my dad's British..So Spanish is like my mother tongue...I'm just a bit more comfortable with English in comparison to Spanish." She states

"Oh..That's why you seemed to understand..." Chris says as he nods understandingly

"Yes..." She replies

"It was nice talking to you Y/N.." He says as he smiles at her

"You too Christopher.." She remarks

' ' '

The chemistry between the two was spontaneous and exciting..almost inevitable..

She had loved how carefree he was, his smile and his overall personality.

But around her, Christopher Velez was another different person. Someone shy and reserved.

He would try to impress her by adding in a few more dramatic pushups and increased his speed on the treadmill whenever she came over and worked out with Zabdiel. He'd get her stuffs she'd casually mention in random conversations with him or the other boys.

He'd even write cliché poems and short one liner quotes inside a personal journal of his he started maintaining after they had formally became friends, but made sure no on ever found them.

' ' '

"Okay..I understand..sure..whenever you are free...Bye.." (Y/N) speaks as she hangs up the phone as she sighs and removes off her heels, as she lays frustrated on her couch.

She began lazily flopping around with her phone from app to app..She was disappointed...but not as disappointed as she expected to be...

She knew she didn't love him intensely..but she was willing to give a try. Her present boyfriend had some sort of feelings for her and vice versa so they dated. Well...at least that's one of the reasons she dated him...

The main reason she dated him was to get over her feelings for Christopher that were growing stronger day by day. She liked him..it was way too obvious. But he never showers any signs of interest in her..For she was one of his girl friend..nothing special.. Sure he had showered her with compliments and got her things she liked but he did that with every single girl friend of his...Or at least that's what she reckoned.

So she thought that her feelings for Christopher would disappear overnight as soon as she began dating her current boyfriend..but nothing worked..Soon eventually some sort of feelings grew and she felt a good amount of attachment and love towards him..

The first few weeks were great..she felt better with her boyfriend..but soon after he began cancelling out plans and barely managing time for her..

"(Y/N/N)?!? You're still here?" Asks a voice from her door

Her head darts towards the source and there she sees Christopher standing

"Chris?! What are you doing here?" She asks as she looks at him

"Well..Zabdie had left his jacket in here and I had left a few of my things in here... Aren't you supposed to be on a date today?" Chris asks although his tone is sour as he walks inside

"Andrew's caught up with a bit of work.." (Y/N) replies as she walks towards the kitchen where Chris begins raiding her fridge

"Of course he is.." Chris mumbles as he rolls his eyes

"What was that supposed to mean?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at Chris

"He always does this..He always stands you up almost every single time...Are you guys honestly dating?"

"Of course...We are..." (Y/N) trails off, her tone uncertain

"Well he absolutely isn't treating you the way you are supposed to..."

"Christopher Velèz..You have absolutely no rights to comment about my personal life.." She replies her tone stern

"I'm just stating facts! And I am your friend..I spoke what I felt!"

"Oh please Velèz..what do you know about being in a steady relationship?"

"I've been in more relationships..than you have ever been in. And besides, it's the third time this week he's postponed your plans (Y/N/N)..."

"I know Chris...I know I should do something but..I love him..and he said he was caught up with some work.. He said he'd make time later.. I understand that work is hectic for the both of us.." She explains

"He's hurt you numerous times..with his words and actions..And yet here you are getting hurt..and doing nothing about it..You deserve better (Y/N).." He says as he looks away

"How dare you? I absolutely love him! You've never been in love before! You don't even understand the feeling!" She snaps feeling slightly angry at him for saying that even though she knew he was partially right.

All he wanted to do was scream out that he did know how it feels..He knew the feeling of liking and pinning on someone who's boyfriend was nothing but a jerk who'd make her feel nothing but bad and terrible about her perfect self!

"He's not good enough for you!" Christopher yells back suppressing his thoughts

"What do you know? What do you mean? Why do you care?" She questions him angrily

Because he did care more than he could admit. He liked her more than he could ever admit.All he wanted to do was hug her and let her cry onto his shoulder until the pain fades away..whisper soothing words into her ears..and tell her how much he loves her,give her what she deserves and treat her the way she should have been treated...

But he couldn't...She was someone else's girl..he couldn't ruin their relationship for his petty jealous feelings..Despite how much of a jerk her boyfriend was...SHE loved HIM and not Christopher... So he couldn't change anything...

So he did what he could...he walked away.. because at the end of the day that was the only possible solution..

' ' '

"If you're going just going to sit and stare at him...He'll end up dating someone else.." Joel remarks as he slowly begins drinking a pint

"De acuerdo, Hermosa, creo que deberías hablar con él y dile como te sientes" Erick comments as he follows her gaze

"Nope..He doesn't feel the same.." She remarks as she removes her glare from all the girls surrounding Christopher as she quickly gulps down a glass of shot

"You won't know until you tell him Mamita.." Richard remarks as he empties a few glasses of shots

"I do know how he feels..and he certainly doesn't feel anything out of the ordinary for me..." She remarks as she gulps down a few more shots a bit too quickly

"Mi Amol..I think you should relax on your dosage..You would end up with those terrible headaches.." Zabdiel says as he snatches the pint from her hands.

"Yeah Shawty...This ain't really healthy. Could wreck ya down ya know?" Richard comments as he gulps down a few more shots

"Is that a challenge Yashel?" She asks as she looks at the Dominican.

"Mamita...I was just kidd - -" Richard begins

"Now you're siding off Camacho? I thought you were a pretty up-to- challenges sorta lad.."

"I am that typa lad...But nope...Not regarding things like these.."

"So...I'm gonna assume that you're just a wet blanket...Essh..I expected better from you Camacho.."

"Oh it is so on (Y/L/N) Get ready to lose Mamita.." Richard comments, a competitive look on his face, followed with groans from the boys

"Mi Amol...I think you - -"

"Oh we'll see who'll lose..." She replies as she smirks at him.

' ' '

Of course, she had won. (well..it ended in a tie.). But that night was one of the most drunk she had ever gotten..Her eyes were glossy as she stumbled around barely managing to stand still, Richard possessing minimal control over himself as he began ranting about something in Spanish whilst raw tears flooded his face..

"Richu...A- - Are you OooKaY?" She asks as she holds onto the wooden table.

"Just emotional...he'll be fine.." Joel reassures her as he replies to Richard's rant in Spanish.

Zabdiel held her arm as she leaned onto him for support, as her eyes darted around the place as if searching for someone.

"(Y/N/N)...who are you sea- -" He begins as she glares at something, Zabdiel's gaze follow hers

"(Y/N/N)...Are you..." Zabdiel trails off as she glares at the girl flirting with Chris.

"I don't- - I- - don't care!" She slurs as she shakes her head "Zab...Dance with me.." She comments as she grabs onto Zabdiel's arm

"No Mi Amol...I don't quite like the entire atmosphere..."

She knew he liked his quiet and peace a bit too much...So even in her drunk state she reluctantly agreed and walked towards the dance floor alone..avoiding unwanted older men and just having fun.

After a while she felt two arms wrapping around her waist. She immediately turned around and her gaze fixated on warm chocolate brown eyes.

"Mami no sabia que eras una borracha guapa.." speaks the voice

She could recognize that voice from anywhere..Chris...

"que tu quieres Velèz?" She asks as her eyes glare onto him

"Y por qué debo, Chris? Pensé que eras muy contento con tu novia?" She snaps, her tone jealous

"Novia? Mami ella no es mi??" Chris begins

"Solo ve Vèlez.." She remarks as she removes his arms around her waist

"Estoy preocupada por ti mamita.." He says

"Estas preocupada por mi? Por qué? Espérate, Zabdiel te pidió que vigilarme?" She asks annoyed

"No Hermosa...He di- -"

"Just leave Chris..." She insists as she removes her gaze from him

"But Ma- -" Chris begins but gets interrupted as someone comes up and stands Infront of Chris

"Papi..you said you'd be back in a minute..." A redhead speaks as she presses her body against Chris's as she pouts sadly at him

"Emily..I - -" Chris begins

"Yeah go ahead Chris...she's waiting!" Y/N says, her tone annoyed and jealous

The girl just gives Y/N a disgusted look as she grabs onto Chris' arm leading him towards somewhere else as she mildly grinded onto him as she swayed her hips..

Under any other circumstances..she would have left the scene...not wanting to cause any drama. But the alcohol in her system was too high.. she obviously wasn't in her right senses but somewhere deep down inside...probably in her subconscious mind she knew what she was going to do was probably the only last option she had..Now or NEVER!

She walked upto Chris...whose gaze was already fixated on her as she stood in between Chris and the girl whatever her name was.

"What do YOU think you're doing!?" The girl asks as she glared at Y/N

"None of your business b*txh!" Y/N snaps harshly, raising her middle finger at the girl as she glared back as she held a grip on Chris' arm dragging him away from the redhead..

She dragged him to a partially covered area from the rest of the club.

"Y/N are you--"

"I'm sorry but if I don't I'll die in regret.." She interrupts him

"What do - -" Chris begins as she cuts him off halfway leaning forward

Chris' breath hitched as his eyes widened in shock and surprise when she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, her eyes shut. After a few split seconds he gave in and kissed back...

She pulled away slowly yet reluctantly her face flustered as her eyes remained glossy.

"Chris...Oh god! I just -- I love you Chris! Why don't you understand?" Y/N says as she looks at him, her eyes gleaming with sadness

"It hurts me every time..EVERY.SINGLE.TIME! I keep wondering why.. just why couldn't it be me? Why someone else? What do they have that I don't? Why can't you like me the way I like you! Not as a friend..something more! I've always been attracted to you since forever yet all you do is look at those girls the way I want you to look at me! Why Chris? Just why?" She asks hopelessly as she harshly blinks away the tears that threatened to fall, her attempts unsuccessful

"Hermosa- -Please stop crying- -" Chris says as he wipes a tear from her cheek

"Sorry- -I'm sorry...Just forget any of this happened! I'm just acting..I'm not myself..Sorry..." She says as she tries to walk away, but Chris grabs her wrist pulling her towards him

"Chris what- -" She begins her words cut off as Chris crashed his lips onto hers.

The kiss was soft, quick yet passionate. She blushed, as she kissed back.. The feeling of his lips against hers felt so right. Like it was meant to be.

"I...I like you that way too Hermosa.." He says as he pulls away..his gaze elsewhere.

"Really Papi?" She asks innocently as her eyes gleamed with a new emotion

"Si..." Chris replies as he looks at her

"Let's get out of here and go somewhere comfortable and private.." She says as she grabs his arm as she drags him out.

As they both walked towards the exit, The boys saw the two and stared at them in surprise.

"Wait...She confessed??" Zabdiel asks surprised

"My ship is sailing!!! Yayyyy!!!" Erick comments as he smiles brightly

"I don't want to be an UNCLE yet!! Richard slurs as he continues to sob about something

"Erick....You promised me popcorn! Where's my popcorn?" Joel asks pouting sadly, obviously drunk.

' ' '

Christopher opens the door of their place allowing her in. She gives him a lopsided smile as she walked (more like stumbled inside). He helped her towards Zabdiel's room as that's where she always slept.

"Now sit here okay? I'll be back." Chris assures her as he walks towards his room, cleaning himself up and changing into something comfortable.

He walked back into Zabdiel's room to check on (Y/N)..She walked out of the bathroom, in a bathrobe hanged messily onto her body...

"Oh my! (Y/N)!! Ahhh!! I'm sorry!" Chris stutters as his face turns red as he shielded his eyes with his hands.

He had seen countless amount of girls fully exposed in front of him..Yet here he was blushing like a tomato seeing her half exposed chest.

(Y/N) wrapped the bathrobe around her tighter as she looks at him equally embarrassed.

"I thought- - I-- I mean- - You'd wan- -t a- -sh- -ir- t..." Chris stutters, his eyes still shut

"Thanks..." She replies as she grabs the shirt and the shorts he'd handed her

' ' '

Chris had made her bed for her, arranging everything she needed before she slept.

"Chris..." A voice speaks as Chris turns around

There she stood next to the bathroom door as she had messily changed into the clothes Chris had handed her. He walked over towards her as he helped her re adjust her clothes.

"Thanks..." She mumbles as she looks at him

Chris nodded as he helped her towards the bed..She stops him in between and he looks at her

"Hermosa..is there a problem?" He asks nervously

She speaks nothing but merely kisses him..He melts into the kiss and she interlocking her arms around his neck as soon as he bit her lower lip as she let out a soft whimper..He smoothly slid in his tongue as he savored every inch of her as her hands trailed into his hair, his arms wrapping around her waist.

They pulled away when air was a necessity..Christopher immediately feeling guilty..He knew she was too drunk to decipher what she was doing and was sure she didn't like him the way he did.She tugged onto his shirt as she slowly looked at Christopher..

"No! No absolutely not Hermosa.." He says as he slowly pushes her away from him

"Why? Don't you love me?" She asks as he sighs

"No hermosa, estas absolutamente borracha. No podía aprovecharme de ti." He replies as he looks at her

"I understand..But tomorrow we mustn't wake up thinking all of this was a huge joke..okay?" She says as pecks his lips one more time

"We'll..we'll see..Just take some rest for now..." He says as she lays down on the bed

She hums in response as Christopher wraps the blanket around her. As he stood up to leave, she holds his arm

"no me dejas, duerme conmigo.." She says as she looks at him lovingly

"no, no puedo..." He says as he looks away

"Please...Don't leave..Just one night." She says

"No..I.." He begins

"I usually cuddle onto something.." She blurts out interrupting him

"I'll.. I'll get you something to.."

"Oh Chris..Siempre soñé con dias que puedo tenerte a mi lado y dormir contigo. "

"Hermosa... I'm not.."

"Please?"

Chris sighed as he takes a spot next to her in the bed..(Y/N) scoots closer towards Chris as she wraps her arms around his clothed torso..

Christopher felt the entire scenario was wrong.. He's going to wake up into reality and the girl he liked would probably not even feel the same about her..

"Te amo Chris..." She murmurs as she softly closes her eyes, smiling softly

Christopher felt his heart swell up with an emotion he didn't know he was capable of possessing..

Oh how he wished how all of her words were true..He wished the kiss was true and honest..not just a drunk mistake..and despite how wrong it was to sleep next to her..he knew he'd never be capable of telling her how he felt face to face..So one night of all this wasn't going to hurt anyone..

' ' '

(Y/N) woke up, her hands wrapped onto something...rather someone. The feeling was absolutely beautiful..It wasn't Zabdiel for sure because she wouldn't be able to feel his chest completely considering how tall he was..she liked the warmth the person possessed..Her eyes opened slowly as her gaze fell upon on a perfect mess of brown shabby hair...

Her eyes widened as she say a full clothed sleeping Christopher Velez in front of her. She sat up quickly in surprise as she merely blinked at him.

"Oh my god!" (Y/N) shouts a bit too loud causing Christopher to wake up

He looks at her, his eyes widened as he sat up on the bed quickly away from her..

She spoke nothing but merely stood up from the bed and walked into the bathroom..allowing herself to fully freak out peacefully whilst the tap water ran loudly.

What was she doing sleeping with Christopher? What had happened last night? Did she do something stupid?

Probably Chris was extremely tired and found a empty spot next to her and laid down and slept. Nothing was awkward right? Big deal!

She came outside with a terrible headache...Of course..She had been terribly drunk last night..She groaned and sat on the bed in pain..

"Here...take these.." Chris says as he hands her over a glass of water and a tablet of Aspirin.

(Y/N) looked at Christopher as she shoots him a grateful smile as she takes the tablet and gulps it down with the glass of water, Christopher leaving the room.

' ' '

(Y/N) walked downstairs, heading off to the kitchen to grab some breakfast. Her headache had worn off quickly. She grabbed a bowl and tried to reach for the cereal box in the cabinet from above her, successfully being unsuccessful. Zabdiel walked over, opened the cabinet and took down the cereal box handing it over to her.

"I almost had it Z..." She says as her cheeks puff up in annoyance

"That's why you were jumping up and down for five minutes straight.."

"Zab...You could have let me try at least.."

"Mi Amol..Come on.. Let's eat already.." Zabdiel says as he grabs a carton of milk from the fridge

They sat down together and began eating as they begin talking about random stuffs.

Erick entered the room with a wide smile on his face..as he sent a knowing smirk to (Y/N). Joel followed suite, Christopher trailing behind him as they came and sat on their table.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at a now smirking Erick and a widely smiling Joel..Christopher had taken his breakfast and settled on the couch, to avoid conversations.

Richard walked in as he grabbed his breakfast and settled next to Christopher, after sending her a smirk.

Why was everyone smirking at her? Did something happen last night?

After breakfast, Zabdiel told her he wanted to talk to her. They both walked into Zabdiel's room as he locked the door..

"Why is everyone acting so strange Zab? Did something happen last night?" She asks genuinely confused

"I'm supposed to be asking you that mi Amol..." He replies

"I don't remember..Could you tell me how drunk was I last night?"

"Probably the most drunk I've seen you..." He states

"Why do I have a feeling that I've done something stupid?" Y/N asks to no one in particular

"You tell me mi Amol..." Zabdiel says as he stretches a bit

"I need time Zab...Give me a minute.."

Y/N tries to remember whatever had happened last night..and within a few minutes..Every single memory hits her like a wave...

"Oh my...I SOUNDED LIKE AN ABSOLUTE IDIOT!! I NEED TO APOLOGIZE TO CHRIS! HE THOUGHT I DIDN'T - - OH MY ZABDIEL! I MESSED UP!! I'M AN IDIOT! WHAT DO I DO?!?" She asks

"Go and talk to him (Y/N/N)...stop panicking and tell him how you really feel.."

"NO ABSOLUTELY NOT! I CAN'T! HE DOESN'T - - "

"Okay...Live in regret that you never told him how you felt because you were a scared chicken.." Zabdiel says interrupting her

"ZABDIEL DE JESUS! YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND? AND BEST FRIENDS HELP ONE ANOTHER AT THE HOUR OF NEED! I NEED YOUR ADVICE RIGHT NOW! I'M IN A CRISIS!" She yells in frustration

"I'm giving you advice and you are literally not accepting them...I am trying to help you but you are just panicking.." Zabdiel says as he rolls his eyes

"I MEANT PRACTICAL SOLUTIONS!" She yells back

"It did seem pretty practical last night huh (y/n/n)?" He asks

"OH MY GOD!! I'M GOING TO- -" She begins

"Stop panicking mi amol...Just tell him how you truly feel..things will eventually turn out good.." He says interrupting her

"But what if he doesn't like me...?"

"Trust me...you won't be disappointed.." Zabdiel reassures her

' ' '

"Christopher...Could I talk to you for a second?" Y/N asks as she enters the music room in their place, Christopher and Joel sitting and discussing something "I mean..that's if you're not too busy.." She adds on nervously as she looks at Joel and Christopher

Christopher looks at Joel as he nods quickly letting Christopher off..

The both of them walk towards the pool side of the lads' place. The both of them awkwardly stood there staring at the now interesting pool.

"You-- -you said you wanted to talk.." Chris says as he breaks the silence

"Yes...Look...I owe you a huge apology.. what I did yesterday night was absolutely stupid.. I'm sorry..I shouldn't have forced you into anything.." she says nervously, sighing softly

"It's okay Y/N...You were drunk..Hope things aren't going to change between us.." Chris says as he forces a small smile despite the fact that his heart was aching in pain as he turns around walking away

"Chris WAIT!" She says a bit too loud

"Huh? Everything fine?" He asks turning around

"I have..I have something..to tell you!" She says as she looks at him

"What?" He asks her

"This...This..Whatever I said yesterday...they weren't completely wrong..well at least most of it..I really do like you more than a friend..I always have..You were always my favorite member..not Erick. I've liked every single little thing about you and..I don't know.."

"If you did like me why did you date Andrew?"

"The reason I dated Andrew wasn't because I knew you wouldn't feel the same about me..And I had to get over my petty feelings...But Christopher listen..I absolutely understand if you don't feel the same about me! It's absolutely okay! I just had to tell you this...I hope we can still stay friends.." Y/N rambles as she tries to walk away.

"So I don't get to speak?" Chris asks her

"Christopher...I really don't want to hear you let me down..I spoke what I felt honestly.." She replies

"Who said I was going to let you down? Besides I like you that way too Hermosa.."

"It's fine Chris..You don't need to convince me..I can handle rejection you know? Don't force yourself to feel that way.."

"But I do... You're the only girl I honestly feel something for..All those things had special meanings attached to it when I did them to you..and last night I just wished..the kisses and everything you said about liking me were true.."

"So does that mean..." Y/N begins as Christopher shuts her up with a quick kiss.

"You're my girlfriend!" Chris winks at her as she rolls her eyes and kisses him...

~ ~ ~

She was overjoyed and was satisfied with her relationship with Chris.

His flirty self always caught her blushing..his cringy pickup lines..his overall charm all captivated her and she enjoyed her time with him..

But somewhere deep down inside she knew that Christopher wasn't a settle-on-a-girl sorta guy..He was more of a on-the-go sorta guy..So she was scared..Scared that she wasn't good enough to make him stay..So somewhere deep down inside she knew it wasn't practical to expect or rather wish for such a sort of relationship with Chris...

Chris had come home at midnight as he walked into her place..He was tipsy but yet somehow managed to control himself..

Y/N let him in angrily as she closed the door behind him.

"We need to talk Chris.." She begins

"Talk... I'll listen.." Chris says

"A conversation is two sided...I need your involvement in here too.."

"Okay...What's the matter?" He asks as he rolls his eyes

"Why do you have a lipstick stain on your cheek?!?" She asks, her eyes widening

"Some girl kissed me..."

"And you kissed her back?!"

"It was just a kiss...nothing more.. You're acting like I hooked up with someone or something..."

"Everything isn't a joke VELÈZ! Try to be a bit serious at times! You walk in at midnight, have a lipstick stain on your cheek and you ask me what's my problem?!? You practically glare of ANY guy that approaches me and get jealous in an unhealthy manner!"

"You're just being dramatic right now (Y/N)..." Chris remarks as he rolls his eyes "They're just random strangers.."

"So it's fine if you can go around kissing random strangers but you have a problem if I approach a guy.."

"There's a difference..in that... It's not like that!"

"Then tell me what's it like?!?"

"Stop acting like the annoying bXtch you are!"

"HOW DARE- - YOU know what... Let's end this right here right now!"

"Are you fXckin serious??"

"Yes! This isn't going anywhere!"

"What?!"

"This entire thing was a mistake...It was something petty! A petty fling! You aren't capable of loving someone apart from yourself Christopher! You are just so damn selfish!"

"Don't give me that tone!" He yells

"You know that it's true...You can't survive without your usual hookups and your one night stands now can you?" She taunts him

"No...I can't! Happy? Satisfied? You know what...I don't even like you..All of it was just a stupid joke..You are just an unwanted prick and a clingy little thing...I could never commit to you..I never felt anything romantic for you and the worst thing is that I felt something stronger to my previous hookups than I've ever felt for you.." Chris shouts as he glared at her

She paused for a second before she regained her posture

"Well since we both don't feel anything towards each other it would be better if we stopped this...thing between us..whatever you'd like to call it..." She says as she looks at him sternly

"Glad that you realized it this soon.." he says as he heads towards the door

"Glad we're in an agreement Velèz.." She says as she slams the door shut, her eyes gleaming with grief and pain.

~ ~ ~

Is it wrong that I still wonder where you are?

Is it wrong that I still don't know my heart.

Christopher didn't cry...no absolutely not..He was used to this..He was used to having girlfriends for a week.. a month..or maybe two. But after (Y/N) had left him...He felt lost in a way..He felt a sort of emptiness

He tried sleeping with other girls..trying to ease off this unexplained pain he was undergoing..but nothing could ease the pain...

He found his thoughts drifting off..all of them all over and over about her...

From simple baking to anything she liked..very little thing reminded him about her..

She obviously would have moved on.. Why wouldn't she? She's got the looks. Why does he care? The both of you had broken off..And like he said you meant nothing to him...

Everything around him seemed less brighter with her by his side..What was he even feeling? Was this normal? Normal to feel like this?

He was definitely not himself.The liveliness in him was still alive..but it was evidently missing something..at least that's what his heart told him..

~ ~ ~

Are you all dressed up but with no where to go?

Are your tears falling down when the lights are low?

Another Friday night tryna put on a show

Do you hate the weekend cause nobody's calling?

Christopher sat on his bed as he checked his phone for the 27th time at the same minute. He scrolled through their chats again and again..as if it provided him an odd source of relief.

He looked at it anxiously..as if somehow expecting her to miraculously text him when he was the one who messed the entire relationship up...

He put down the facade when he was alone...mostly when the guys were sound asleep or had gone out for any occasion...He'd cry as hard as he wanted..the pain returning and striking harder every time a tear slipped down his cheek...

The space and loneliness was evident..almost suffocating.

~ ~ ~

I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin

So darling put a little love on me

Put a little love on me

He felt something..something weird for her...Something he hadn't felt with any girl he had met. Whatever he felt hadn't died...It was still there. He realized a sort of unpleasant, stinging pain every time he thought about letting her go.

He was hurt...More than he could admit..But somehow only more love and attachment filled his shattered heart..The love in his heart was never put outside...It was hidden. Even when he was with her, it was hidden.

He didn't want himself to get hurt..he knew he'd be taken advantage of.. that's why he never tried to love anyone romantically..He was scared..Scared that if he showed them how vulnerable he was... they'd use it against him.. That's why he stayed passive and inexpressive..He was scared she'd leave him for someone better.

~ ~ ~

When the lights come up and there's no shadows dancing

I look around as my heart is collapsing

You're the only one I need

So put a little love on me

Everyone around him was happy.. Everyone at the pubs, concerts, parks, restaurants and streets had their special someone...everyone apart from him..Instead of being angry.. he felt lonely..upset...

He could have been there..enjoying the same..if he wouldn't have let the only one girl he felt something for...not for his fame or how great he was at bed..but just because of what he was inside out.. Overlooking his flaws and loving him for who he was not what other people and the media said he was..

The heaviness in his heart increased, when he realized she was gone...He felt as if his heart was almost collapsing slowly shattering into small tiny yet irreparable pieces...

They pretended to move..at least he did.but deep down inside..somewhere he knew she was the only one he needed right now...

X- X- X

#one direction #cnco #cncosongfic #christopher velez #richard camacho #zabdiel #erick colon #joel pimentel #put a little love on me #songfic #love #heartbreak

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ohwhatamessiam · 4 years

Text

Self Control - Chapter 12

Summary: The end of the semester is upon you, but the drama is not done yet!

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans X TA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: Language, uncomfortable feelings, and maybe some secondhand embarrassment.

A/N: Hi y’all! I’m back much sooner than intended, but you know, quarantine and social distancing dictate life now! There’s 1 chapter left in Self Control, and if you’re lucky, I might spring an epilogue on ya (we’ll see how the next month or so goes)! Thank you to @fangirlisms-22 for beta’ing my sudden writing binge. I tried to tag everyone, but some blogs have deactivated, changed urls, or won’t let me tag them. Let me know if you need me to change your url on my list. Here’s the Spotify playlist for the entire fic.

I love feedback, so send me your thoughts, feelings, wishes, etc!

Tags are still barely open for this story, so send me an ask here to be added to it or my permanent list!

Self Control | Masterlist

You had no idea how much two weeks could change your life.

You and Chris had barely spoken to one another, only given polite greetings when running into each other at the office. The rest of your communication was through email.

And Robert had sent the story you were working on from before break to a few of his friends and former students at literary magazines. The story you had started during break was becoming more of a means of therapy, a confessional of your relationship with Chris. And it was helping you process what happened.

It was the last day of classes, and the last day before semester papers were due. The assignment was for the students to choose their favorite story or writer of the semester and then to expand upon what they learned in that specific unit. Whatever specific story or person they chose, they were supposed to research who else has used it as inspiration for work since. It could be modern television or film, or another story or author that was influenced. And then they had to explain why they chose that subject. What made them interested enough to do further research upon it, and how it might affect their future consumption of art and literature.

It was a relatively open-ended subject and for the first time the whole semester, students were actually using your office hours.

And one student in particular who’d been giving you the cold shoulder turned up.

Tom.

He’s perched on the edge of the seat across from you, his laptop on the ground as his hands dig through articles he’d photocopied at the library. He’d chosen Keats as his essay topic, and knowing that you also held a soft spot for Keats, he wanted your opinion.

And the deadline was approaching dangerously quickly.

“So I covered all the adaptations and inspired works, and his legacy. And I wrote about how his work is going to change my perception of poetry moving forward. I just think I’m struggling with why Keats was my favorite unit this semester.”

“That’s okay, sometimes when you get so used to academic writing, it becomes hard to write about yourself, and your own feelings. But putting sources and quotes aside to examine your own mental processes is an important part of literature and writing.”

“Okay, I understand that. But I don’t think that my honest answer about why I took an interest in Keats is appropriate for this paper.”

“If you’re worried about Chris or I reading something personal, you don’t have to be. Anything you write will be private. We won’t say anything to anyone.”

Your mind wanders to what could make Tom so worried. Did it have to do with family or his childhood? Keats had a difficult and tragedy filled childhood. Did it have to do with Keats dying so young, or the discussion of his possible addiction to opium?

His eyes drop to the folder on his legs, his fingers picking at the edges of its pages. “Are you sure?” You nod but his nerves aren’t done. “My reasoning might not be very appropriate for an academic setting.”

“Tom,” you say, your eyes softening as you watch him. “Your reasoning doesn’t have to be an expansive philosophical or literary reason. It can be, but it can also just be as simple as you liked his poems. That you found his life tragic but fascinating. Or that the words and rhyme schemes were pretty or interesting.” His eyes meet yours, the edges of his mouth ticking up the slightest bit. “Don’t overthink it. Just be honest with yourself and the text.”

He nods, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, (Y/N). I will be honest. And I’m going to try to trust you and Prof. Evans.”

“Thank you.” You give him a short nod, showing your gratitude in a punctuated fashion. He watches you for another moment, his brown eyes searching for something. But then he gulps and stops. His fingers place his materials back in his bag.

You sit up in your chair a little, almost saddened that your time with him is up. It was nice speaking with someone who didn’t look at you with desperation (because of finals) or pity (because of Chris). Tom’s thoroughly preparedness had made this the most interesting and easy conversation in weeks.

He packs his bag quietly and you let him. He’s a student, no matter how much you appreciate this time with him, there are clear boundaries. You will not cross them. After everything, that’s something you’re damn sure of.

At your door he pauses and says thank you. You give him a small smile, “You’ve done well this semester. I look forward to reading your paper, Tom.”

He cracks a smile, and you notice the slight rosiness that colors his cheeks. He raps his knuckles against your door for the last time this semester, and then he goes.

A pang of guilt lands in your gut, but you don’t know what to do with it yet. His blush probably meant nothing, he was just flattered. But that guilt stays nestled there, a reminder of what has happened, and a warning about what’s to come.

_______________________________________________________________________

Finals pass without a hitch, for both you and your students. You’re able to read the final papers from your apartment, away from any pity or other heavy feelings. You and Chris had decided to randomly split up the workload so you could get through them quickly and give thorough feedback. But final grades are due on Tuesday and you plan on going into your office to enter them and pick up the last few things you’ll need for next semester.

You get to your office in the afternoon Monday, hoping to miss Chris who said he’d come in early if any students wanted to dispute any last grades with him.

You did not end up with Tom’s paper in your final stack, and you wonder what he ended up writing for the rest of it. You’ve been in your office for almost two hours when you decide you’ll let your nosiness win, and you find Tom’s submission online. As you're opening the file, a heavy knock echoes from your door.

He speaks before you get the chance to look up, “Uh (Y/N)?” The way he says your name reaches your skin, your pulse, well before you find the strength to see him. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a shallow breath before you answer.

“What can I do for you, Chris?”

He’s still the Chris you first met, clean, crisp lines composing his appearance. The Chris he might have always been. Maybe you just got a private viewing of him, a show for only your eyes. Maybe your Chris was a piece that he never let out. Maybe just an alias. A way to distance his actions from who everyone thought he was.

There is no trace of your soft or rumpled time together.

His eyes catch yours, and there’s something there. A pain, a distance, a longing. But it goes away.

And then he’s stepping into your office, “I wanted to ask you something privately?” He closes the door behind himself, but remains standing.

Does he want to get back together? Is he going to divorce Jennifer? Is he ready to choose you?

With your mind running wild, you make a conscious effort to clasp your hands together and keep your face blank, eyes steady.

“What is it?”

“Have you read Tom’s final paper yet?”

All that hope, gone. A pang of annoyance settles in your core. And it’s accompanied by that hint of guilt.

“I have not. Since you graded it, I didn’t need to.”

“Well… I think you should.” There was something in his eyes again, a spark nearly indicating intensity or concern.

“Okay, um. I’ll take a look at it.” You do not tell him you already have it open. You skim the first page, finding nothing but brief analysis and lots of references. “So far, there’s nothing unusual here. It’s a solid paper.”

“Keep going.” The tension of him standing in your office, waiting for you to finish reading agitates your nerves. Your eyes flick to his, but there’s something else mixed in with his previous intensity. There’s an edge, a little too sharp to ignore.

You keep reading. The second page is finished, and it’s literally everything you two had already discussed. The third page is where things get interesting.

Tom wrote that he enjoyed the lyricism of Keats, but what really cemented the poet as his favorite was his TA.

You.

He wrote that since Keats was one of your favorites, he paid more attention to it. That he saw you view Keats’ work as beautiful, giving it a reverence that he argued Keats should even be honored to have. That he looked up to your opinion and your interests, and that’s how he fell in love with the poetry.

Heat spreads across your chest, your face. You’re honored, but also, this is not what you expected from Tom. You look down from his paper, trying to search your mind for any conversations you had with him that would indicate that he was paying too much attention to you. And unfortunately, it’s there. So is the guilt you felt the last time you saw him.

But you know nothing happened here. You would have never entertained anything more than your positions in this academic institution allowed.

“Seems like he really learned a lot from you this semester.” The edge is there, and this time you can identify it. Humor.

“What are you trying to say?” Your words come out more defensive than you intend.

“(Y/N). This kid has a crush on you. Hell, in his hormonal mind, maybe more. Did you know?”

You shake your head. “No. No, if he has a crush on me, that’s his business. I was nothing but kind and open to Tom, but I didn’t know about this.” Truly, you’re referring to the paper more than Tom’s supposed crush.

The humor leaves him. “Kind and open? Are those two things strictly professional?”

The warmth of your skin turns into something worse, anger. “They were. I would never cross that line with a student.”

His hands brace his body as he leans onto your desk. His face mere inches from yours. “But you’d cross it with me? Your colleague and your boss.”

His words hit you like a slap. You flinch in response. How dare he insinuate that you might be a problem here, a repeat offender of an inappropriate relationship.

You want to yell at him, to let your rage out. But instead, you put on your best passive aggressive smirk. You remind yourself of everything that’s happened. He doesn’t get to see you angry or upset anymore. He gets a civil, bare minimum now.

“I will repeat it. If Tom has a crush on me, that is his business. I know he dropped by my office hours pretty often this semester, but I figured my hours fit his schedule better. And no. I was not crossing any boundaries with him. I would not do that.”

He opens his mouth, his eyes clouding with a hint of regret.

“And I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been pretty occupied trying to hide a different relationship all semester. I didn’t have the time to consider Tom as anything but a student, when most of my time was occupied by someone else.”

The guilt you felt before dissipates, but Chris’ downturned lips and furrowed brow just indicates that it has found another home.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” He sighs and pulls back from your desk. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Well, you can’t take it back.” Even though every ounce of you wishes he could. Hell, you wish you could take back this entire interaction. That he had never walked to your door. “So let’s just move on.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

Yeah, he’d been doing that without you for a while.

“I don’t know how you want to handle this situation though,” he adds, still standing over you. “If you want to talk to Robert or call Tom in to talk to-“

“Robert doesn’t need to be involved. Tom may have crossed a line into a personal territory, but he’s never acted upon his feelings. So there’s no need for administrative intervention.”

“Are you sure?”

“Chris,” you sigh. You know what you’re going to say next will hurt and may not be completely true, but you don’t need your professional reputation questioned again. “I already lied for your sake once this semester. You could return the favor by keeping this to yourself.”

“I don’t kn-”

“Don’t put a target on Tom’s back.” Your voice comes out strong, authoritatively. You’re settling this now. “I remember being his age and getting dumb crushes on TAs. It doesn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t need to be mentioned again.”

He freezes in front of you, fully taking you in. Maybe he only got little pieces of you this semester too. Maybe it was time you both saw each other for who you fully were.

“Okay.” He nods to himself, letting out a deep breath. “Okay.”

He stays stuck in that spot, accepting your argument.

“So, if that’s settled…” you begin. But his hands squeeze together and his eyes focus on the edge of your desk again. You watch him, wondering what would cause him to look as lost as he did the last time he had been in your office.

“I uh, I wanted to tell you something else.” His blue eyes are back on you, and there’s that twinkle again. Is it longing or pain? Just the fraying of his nerves? You don’t say anything, just let his gaze burn through you, waiting for him to work up the courage.

“I’ve been writing again.” Sebastian had told you he’d been writing when you two were together. You hoped selfishly that he’d stopped when he went back to Jennifer, but apparently not. “The novel I’m working on. It- it’s inspired by some of what happened this semester.”

So you weren’t the only one working through your feelings with writing. But your writing had been vague. It was different characters, different situations, just some of the same emotions and complications. What was he using from the last 4 months? You’d made it through your affair without ruining your career here. Hopefully, he wouldn’t blow your life up with some story about you two now.

When you don’t answer, he turns his back to you. His breath comes ragged, he’s worried. “I just thought you should know.”

“As long as you don’t use my name, or anything too specific, I guess that’s fine. I can’t stop you.”

He turns back quickly, his eyes wide. He must not have expected you to let this go so easily. But you can’t blame him for using the same coping mechanism as you are.

“I don’t even know if it’ll turn into anything important. I just didn’t want it to be a surprise if it did.”

“That’s fine.”

He leans onto your desk again, making sure his eyes are level with yours. They’re so earnest, it hurts. There’s a piece of him there that you used to see so often. That you used to think was yours.

But it had been three weeks. And it makes it a little worse knowing you might never see that sincerity again.

“I’ll make sure if it does go somewhere, that you get to see it first. I owe you that much.”

You nod, your eyes trained on him. He doesn’t look away.

The intensity between you two is still there, pulling you toward each other. But you said you were done with that. You couldn’t change his decision, and it seemed he hadn’t taken it back either.

His face moves to you, his mouth nearly on your own. You hadn’t been this close since before Thanksgiving break. You can feel his breath on your lips, it tickles your skin. The person you were before break would have used his mouth to relieve the itch. But that’s not who you are anymore.

You pull back from him, putting the necessary distance between you two. He stands up straight, his expression somewhere between confused and upset.

You tell yourself something very important in the moment: he doesn’t get to be upset that you’ve changed. And you don’t get to be upset anymore that he wouldn’t. All that is past you.

“Thank you, Chris.” You say loudly, but without malice. “If you have nothing else to add, I think we’re done here.”

“Of course,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, and the next time he opens them, all those previous emotions are gone. Like no part of the last several minutes happened. He leaves your office door open, just as it had been when he’d come in.

And as you look up, you notice two sets of eyes watching you from the hallway. It is Elizabeth, and her friend and fellow grad student, Letitia. They watch you with pity. You want to be done with that. You force a smile to them, and then close your office door.

_______________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, all the final grades are submitted, and your stomach aches for something to eat. After the day you’ve had, maybe you’ll pick up Italian on your way home. You deserve large amounts of wine and pasta.

As you’re walking on the path to the parking lot, the sun setting around you, you hear feet pound against the pavement behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Sebastian jogging toward you. ‘Hey (Y/N),” he calls out. You slow your pace so he can catch up.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, his hair is all messed up. The soft and fluffy look works for him. But then you chide yourself for noticing that.

Once he composes himself, there’s an apologetic smile smeared across it. “Look, I’m sorry about how I acted toward you at Thanksgiving. I didn’t know what was going on with you and Chris.”

If you’re done with the pity, you’re done with this too. “Don’t mention it, Seb.” He grins at you, his eyes crinkling as his apologetic face disappears. “Yeah, I’m trying out the nickname.”

“Good. But are you sure? I was absolutely a dumbass about you two this semester.”

“Sebastian. It’s over. I’m done with Chris. I’m walking into winter break ready to be done with this last semester. I’m ready for something new.” He watches you, his eyes wide. He must notice that you're serious because he settles into a nod.

“Okay. I’m right there with you. My semester has been messy too.”

You quirk a brow at him, wondering how messy his semester could have been compared to yours. What, was he living up to his reputation by sleeping with his TA too? Or did Chris say that to scare you away from him?

“Look, I’m going to tell you a secret, (Y/N). And when I meant messy, I meant messy.” You watch him as he looks around the campus to see if anyone is nearby. “I know Chris has already suspected part of it, but while he was with you, Jennifer was with me.”

Instinct takes over and you slap his arm.

“Hey, they were on a break. And she’d been flirting with me for a whole year!”

You want to be mad at him for him sleeping with his friend’s wife. He violated a serious code of friendship. But for some reason you can’t. And you’re feeling something dangerously close to relief.

You can’t stop yourself, you laugh, loudly. If anyone else had been around, their lives would have been interrupted by the sound.

“I can’t tell if you’re taking this well.”

You smile at him genuinely. “I am actually. And I feel almost sort of, relieved?”

“Oh, have my fuck ups made yours feel less bad?” You wouldn’t have called your relationship with Chris a full fuck up. You didn’t regret it like that. But Sebastian wasn’t wrong. You reach the parking lot where your cars are and he turns on his heels. He gives you a little bow, “I’m so happy my stupidity could be of service.”

You pull your keys out, ready to unlock your car. “Thank you for that, Sebastian.”

“By the way, keep working on that.” He leaves your side as he heads for his vehicle.

“Working on what?”

He unlocks his car from his key fob as he pivots. “My nickname. I want to make sure you have it down for next semester.”

“Is it really that important?”

He gives you the most devious smile you’ve ever seen from him. And from the time you’d spent together, he’d given you many. “It is to me. I prefer that all my TA’s are comfortable enough to treat me as a friend.”

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t heard who Robert was pairing you up with for next semester. You knew it wouldn’t be Chris, but you’d been hoping that he might give you a semester off of assisting.

This time his laugh rang out through the campus.

“Yes (Y/N). Take the break to recharge and prepare. We’re gonna have a hell of a time teaching creative writing next semester.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Tags: @irishdancr24 @lostboyinneverland @captainmarvels @suz-123 @funlizzie02-blog @void-imaginations @cryingovershipsthatneversailed @breezykpop @jcc04220 @nys30 @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @guera31 @wickedcitywitch @london-dreamer71 @patzammit @lilypalmer1987 @talannalew @thatonetuesdaywhensam @supperunnatural20 @evanstanfanatic @lucinapomona @r5rocks101 @dolphinpink310 @bojabee @zlixlle @smashley816 @stevieang @youtheheckisbucky @chrisbck @bit-of-a-timelord @sebastian-i-stan @thefridgeismybestie @ssweet-empowerment @sophiealiice @imaginesofdreams @anotherawkwardaustralian @lostxsea

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singofsolace · 4 years

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Fic Titles Meme

I was tagged by @bedeliainwonderland Thank you so much! This was a lot of fun to do.

1. How many titles are you happy with?

I’ve published 39 (!) fics on Ao3, and I’d say I’m unhappy with the titles of about 7 of those... which means I’m happy with 32! I think that’s a decent percentage.

2. How many are…not great?

A good number of my fics are song titles, which means that if someone doesn’t know the song in question, they might not understand how it relates to the fic. Even if they do know the song, sometimes I think I could do better when picking the proper lyrics to use. So... I’d say at least a handful of the song titles I used are... not great.

3. How many did you scramble for at the last minute?

Almost all of them! I write the story before I pick a title, which means that I’ve usually finished filling out literally everything else on Ao3, and then I just sit and stare at the title box for a very long time. (Hence some of the “rushed” song titles).

4. How many did you know before you started writing/creating, or near the beginning?

Only three of my fics had titles before I started writing them: Sir, Spare Your Threats, boil and bubble, and to bed, to bed, to bed! The reason Sir, Spare Your Threats came so easily to me is because that is my favorite Hermione monologue, and the fanfic is meant to loosely follow the plot and characters of Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale, which I believe is one of the best plays ever written. (Hamlet... new phone, who dis?)

boil and bubble and to bed, to bed, to bed!, are also borrowed from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, which I usually refer to as the Scottish Play. Clearly, I’m only certain of my titles when Shakespeare is involved.

5. How many are quotes from songs or poems?

A whopping 17 of my fanfic titles are from songs or poems! I don’t know if I should be embarrassed by that or not. The poem titles are a lot more subtle, I think, than the lyrics... but some of the lyrics are just so fitting, I can’t be mad at myself for them.

6. How many are other quotes?

Technically a great miracle happened there comes from the four sides of a dreidel. While I am not Jewish, my neighbors growing up were, and we went to their house every morning because their mother was supposed to “watch’ me and my siblings until the school bus came (I put “watch” in quotes because we were largely unsupervised. it’s a miracle we ever made it on the bus). Anyway, whenever Hanukkah came around, we would play dreidel for hours and hours. I was notoriously bad at it. So. I guess that counts as a “quote?”

7. Which best reflects the plot of the story/content of the fanwork?

This is a really hard question! I feel like a lot of these questions are meant for people who have less than 10-15 fics published. With almost 40, it’s really hard to narrow this down. I think should’ve worshipped her sooner was a great choice for my Five Times + One Zelda fic.

8. Which best reflects the theme of the story?

before that, and colder comes from a Margaret Atwood poem: “Marriage is not / a house or even a tent // it is before that, and colder:" This fic explores the ramifications of the Caligari spell being cast on Zelda during her honeymoon, so I thought it was extremely fitting.

9. Which best reflects the character voice of the story/pov of the fanwork?

laissez les bons temps rouler ! This one got some flack for the title having extremely poor Parisian French grammar, but that is because this phrase is used almost exclusively in New Orleans in the context of Mardi Gras. Since Marie LaFleur canonically lived in New Orleans for long enough to consider herself part of the “Fourth Ward” (the French Quarter, I believe), I assumed that would mean that she’s participated in many Mardi Gras celebrations, and would’ve said this phrase at least once. It translates to: “let the good times roll.” (word for word from French to English... hence the poor grammar, since French generally has a different sentence structure.)

10. Which is your favorite title?

just to sit outside your door. I’m soft for some Hozier, what can I say? The full phrase is: “I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.”

I tag @saturn-silk @bainelland @anneofgreengaybles @jyou-no-sonoko19 @alexusonfire @its-a-goode-day @hb-spellman @allaboutthatgillybox @paradox-n-bedrock @asterleaf

#zelda spellman #madam spellman #spellwell #zarie

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kazzyboy · 3 years

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Y’all ever start thinking and it’s just..

Wow. How wrong the universe got me.

#incoherent thoughts of i #let’s play stickball they said #it’ll be fun they said #kazisatitagain #meme #lots of poems n lyrics n quotes

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glassbangtan · 5 years

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love lyrics {yoongi x reader}

Words: 11.8k

Summary: Min Yoongi is a Modern Arts student. You are kind of a Modern Arts student. Min Yoongi lives and breathes his music, would die for a good grade. You are hopping from course to course, still trying to figure out what you want. Two seemingly opposite people somehow form a connection in the mess of trying to complete a relatively difficult homework assignment that focuses on the topic of love - something Yoongi is completely oblivious to.

Genre: angst - fluff - high school au

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions!

----

Min Yoongi is fairly certain this is the stupidest thing he's ever been told to do.

Ever.

He's a Modern Arts student – he's learning to produce music, for crying out loud. So, why is he being forced to sit down and write some stupid love poem for a person he doesn't even know?

The assignment came from his music teacher, Miss Seymour. Miss Seymour, a pleasant elderly lady who prides herself on the fact that she's married to the music, is someone Yoongi usually respects a great deal. In truth, she's taught him almost everything he knows, has paved the way for the future he wants to pursue once he leaves the hell hole that is Daegu High School.

However, this morning she'd walked into class, chipper as anything with her usual flask of coffee in her hands, and she'd told each and every student in that room to sit down and write about love.

Yoongi could have honestly slammed his head into the desk.

Yoongi isn't a hopeless romantic by any stretch of the imagination. He's read romance books (mostly because of Namjoon) and he's watched romance movies (mostly because of Jimin) but never before has he taken that side of media and applied it to his own hobby – writing music. Never before has he even wanted to, because the minute you start mixing complicated feelings into a piece of music, it can start deteriorating very, very fast. The song can quickly become something you don't even want to look at, let alone properly record and release to the world.

Nonetheless, Yoongi needs this grade. He needs to keep Miss Seymour's respect, and so he ducks his head down and starts scribbling on the piece of paper he's pulled from his backpack.

Nothing happens.

He's moving his pen. He's pretty sure there should be words on his page, but instead, all that appears is a tiny doodle of a hedgehog in the top left corner. Beside it, a smiley face. Soon, an entire little family of bizarre doodles have taken up the space of his lined page, and there is not a single word or flowery lyric intermingling amongst them.

Miss Seymour makes her usual rounds of the classroom. Yoongi tries to shield his page from view, folding his arms over the top of it, ducking his head into the tiny box he's made. However, Miss Seymour is actually a decent teacher, and she really does worry about the work of all of her students – Yoongi isn't getting away with this one.

She taps his shoulder. He doesn't move. Maybe if he pretends he's asleep, she'll realise just how exhausting it is to be a student, will take pity on him and leave.

“Yoongi.”

He squeezes his eyes closed. “Hm?”

“Can I see what you've got done so far?”

Yoongi knows he has no choice. Haltingly, he slides away from the desk and shows off his doodles. Part of him is quite proud of the little hedgehog – maybe Miss Seymour likes hedgehogs.

She tilts her head, grey eyes narrowed behind her wire-framed glasses. Yoongi sees her purse her lips, and he knows then and there that he's done for – he's nearly wasted an entire lesson, nearly an entire fifty minutes scribbling stupid doodles rather than doing this stupid assignment, and now he's going to fail, and-

“Not quite what I asked for, Mr Min,” she says.

Yoongi nods slowly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you struggling?”

“I just. . . don't know what to write.” He looks up. “You know I'm more of a hip hop writer.” And she does know, because she's praised Yoongi so many times on the different pieces he's shown to her. She knows this isn't the kind of thing that comes easy to him.

She hums, settling herself down on the only other seat at the desk – it's been empty since the start of the year, considering most people would rather sit with their friends and chat then get any actual work done. Yoongi made the sacrificial decision to sit by himself this year, leaving Hoseok and Namjoon to their gossip at the back of the classroom.

“I've taught a lot of boys just like you, Yoongi,” Miss Seymour says. “They have a specific idea in mind of what they want to do, and they think that's it. They think music falls into one of multiple categories, and they choose which one they like best and that's them sorted for the rest of their life – well, I don't want you to fall under the same assumptions, because it really isn't true.”

Yoongi frowns.

“As musicians, we have to learn to love all genres of music. We might not enjoy writing them, and some will be stronger than others, but the respect at least has to be there. You have to fall in love with the art, not the genre.”

Yoongi continues to frown. Maybe he's too young to understand what she's saying. Maybe she really is bat shit crazy.

“Today we're writing about love,” she points out, tapping his page as if that will prove anything. “So, I want you to think of someone you deeply, deeply love and I want you to write about them. I know how good you are with words, Yoongi – I think you can make something beautiful out of this.”

Yoongi looks down. He might be hiding a smile; he isn't really sure yet. Part of him is amused by Miss Seymour's outlook on life, but the other half of him can kind of see where she's coming from – yes, it's important that he forms some kind of respect for all genre's of music if he wants to work with a broad range of artists in the future, but god, does he really have to suffer through the additional task of thinking about his own emotions?

Miss Seymour leaves. Yoongi never responds to her, but she doesn't really need him to. She's made her point, and now she's gone, and Yoongi is left with his pen and his sheet of paper.

He really just has to think of someone he loves.

He loves his mother, yes. His father, yes. His brother, yes, and sometimes he'll even feel a flicker of fondness for his small group of friends, as rowdy as they are. He loves music – but he can't write about that, can he? That's even worse than writing about how much he loves his family. It's just. . . not what people want to hear, and it certainly isn't what he wants to write about.

There's so much emotion in the word love. There's so much it can be, so many forms it can take, so Yoongi doesn't fully understand why he's struggling to come up with something to write about. None of it has to be truthful – he can bullshit his way through an English essay, so why can't he do the same in music?

He sighs and slumps back in his chair. His hood is already pulled on over his head, but he exaggerates his need for privacy by popping an AirPod in his ear, covering it with the hood of his jacket. He leans his head back, inhales deeply and-

The door to the classroom swings open. All attention is sucked directly towards the source.

“Sorry! Sorry, ah!” You awkwardly laugh. “I hope I'm in the right room. Miss Seymour's class, right?”

Miss Seymour pauses, chalk still in her hand as she scribbles some random motivational quote on the blackboard. It's been a long time since Yoongi's seen a startled Miss Seymour; the sight is oddly refreshing.

“Uh...,” the elderly woman drawls. “Yes. I'm Miss Seymour.”

“Sorry for being late.” You're talking so fast. Yoongi wants you to slow down. “I only signed up for Modern Arts a few days ago, and today's my first actual class. I'm still trying to find where everything is.”

Miss Seymour nods, dazed. “You've got the right place. T-take a seat wherever you want, love.”

And Yoongi knows. He just knows, because it happens in every single movie, and every single book, and you look over at him as soon as the words have left Miss Seymour's mouth. He can hope, but it's useless. You immediately make a B-Line for the one free chair in the entire classroom – which just so happens to be right beside Min Yoongi.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, even though he isn't entirely sure why he's so put-out by this. He doesn't even know you, but he knows you're loud and you talk too fast and the way you stumble over to his desk makes him think that maybe you're a little bit clumsy, too.

Bits and pieces of your personality are showing to the surface, and Yoongi hasn't even said two words to you. Clearly you don't like to keep yourself subtle.

Yoongi shuffles to the side when you slam your bag on the table and start rummaging around for your books. You're smiling the entire time – Yoongi doesn't know why, isn't entirely sure if he wants to know why.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I take up a lot of room sometimes.”

“You're fine,” Yoongi grumbles. He tucks his AirPod back in his ear and turns back to his work; he needs to get this done. You can't be a distraction.

You sit down beside him, chair screeching with the force of which you plonk down. Yoongi tries to curl up against the wall. You don't get the hint.

“Well, hello,” you say. “I'm Y/N.”

“Hello.”

You pause. Yoongi should probably say something, maybe tell you his name.

He bites the top of his pen.

“What's your name?”

You sound like a six year old in a park.

“Yoongi,” he replies.

“Min Yoongi.”

He glances at you. “How do you know?”

You smile sheepishly, glancing down at your hands. To the untrained eye, you might look a little embarrassed, but Yoongi is struggling to believe someone with a personality like yours is capable of felling embarrassed. “I heard a bit about you when I was signing up for my extra classes. Apparently you're really good at Modern Arts.”

“Yep.”

“Well, it's an honour to sit beside you, Min Yoongi.”

“Just Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You don't have to say my last name. It's just Yoongi.”

You grin. “Well, okay, Just Yoongi.”

“We're not doing that, either.”

Your grin fades. Yoongi almost feels bad.

He shuffles a little closer to the wall and goes back to chewing on his pen. There's only ten minutes of class left. He honestly doesn't see a point in trying to force his creativity at this point.

“I don't know what you're doing,” you say. “Miss Seymour didn't explain the work.”

“Did she not?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Are you working on anything interesting?” You lean forward. “Can I hear some of your work?”

“No.”

You flinch back. “Oh. Okay.” It's silent for a moment. “Can you explain what the work is?”

Yoongi glances at you. The word “No,” is playing on his tongue again, but even he can admit that's a little bit too mean. He sighs and sits forward, nudging the instructions page towards you. He taps it lightly and says, “That explains everything.”

You read over it, furrowing your brows. “You're writing about love.”

“Apparently so.”

“But that's so broad.” You push the sheet away. “There's so much you can do with that. Like, forbidden love, platonic love, familial love, material love. What about love when it comes to hobbies, or passions? How can she just tell us to write about love?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Dunno.”

“What have you got so far?” Before Yoongi can protest, you snatch the page hidden beneath his folded arms.

He winces; fuck. You've literally just told him that people claim he's some genius when it comes to Modern Arts. He's meant to impress you, but there's absolutely nothing impressive about what you're looking at.

“Aw! That's a nice little hedgehog.”

Yoongi blinks. He thinks of saying “Thank you,” but that seems kind of stupid. He snatches the page out of your hand and mumbles something along the lines of, “Please don't do that again.”

You giggle. “So I'm guessing you're just as stumped as I am. Tell me, Yoongi – is it because there's so much to write about, or because there's so little to write about?”

Yoongi raises a brow. He spares you a glance, just over his shoulder, just something small, but it's enough for him to see the tiny smile twitching on your lips. You lean back in your chair, sighing dreamily, and the two of you wait till the bell rings, because that's all you can do – a hopeless romantic and someone who doesn't even want to ponder over the idea of love.

----

“So the new girl was pretty weird today, don't you think?”

As soon as Yoongi hears the words coming from Namjoon, he wants to turn and walk away.

He doesn't, though, because god forbid he get caught eating alone in a high school cafeteria. It would take months to recover from the torment.

So, he sets his tray down next to Hoseok and tries to change the subject immediately. “Does anyone have good sociology notes I can steal?”

Namjoon perks up. “Ay, there you are! Just the man we were waiting on.”

Hoseok leans in, nudging Yoongi's arm. “So, how was the new girl today?”

“Uh. . . On her best behaviour.” He isn't sure how else to respond.

Hoseok frowns. “No, dude. I mean, like, was she cool? Was she annoying? She seemed really overbearing when she walked in this morning.”

Yoongi shrugs, messing with the top of the salt pot. “We didn't really talk that much.” It wasn't necessarily a lie, but the way he says it makes it seem like one. Maybe you two did talk quite a lot – maybe Yoongi's shyness has reached a point where he doesn't even know what counts as talking a lot.

“Did you get her name?” Jimin asks.

“Y/N.”

Taehyung slaps the table and holds his palm out to Jungkook. “See, I told you that was it! You owe me a fiver!”

Jungkook slaps his hand away. “Fuck off. I can't afford that.” He turns back to Yoongi. “You didn't talk to her at all?”

“This is Yoongi,” says Seokjin through a mouthful of steak bites. “It wouldn't even surprise me that much if they didn't talk.”

Yoongi shrugs. He doesn't know how to respond to that, either.

Namjoon sighs. “Shame. I kind of want to know a bit more about her.”

“Why?” asks Taehyung.

“Why not? She stumbles into our Modern Arts class, yelling about how sorry she is for being late. I've never even seen her walking round the Modern Arts block before – so what made her decide to transfer so suddenly?”

These are all very good questions. So good, in fact, that Yoongi even finds himself listening to the discussion.

“I guess so,” says Jimin. “Do you know what classes she took before?”

“Maths,” Jungkook says. He pauses when he realises that the whole table is staring at him in confusion. He shrugs. “What? I worked on the student council for three weeks – the files I had access to in there, man. Crazy.” He points his chopsticks at Seokjin. “You, sir, are in Mr Brown's bad books, by the way.”

Seokjin curses.

Namjoon waves a dismissive hand, dragging back the conversation. “Isn't that so weird, though? She's moved from maths to Modern Arts – who does that? What maths student do you know that all of a sudden decides their passion is in the Arts?”

Yoongi can understand Namjoon's confusion, but he's also known the younger man long enough to know that he has a habit of looking a little bit too deeply into things that don't really matter. Maybe Yoongi is just a bit of a debby-downer, or maybe he really does just have a bad habit of taking life as it comes, but he doesn't see a reason in stressing himself out over something as simple as another persons academic interests.

But in the same breath, it is confusing.

“I'm happy for her,” says Taehyung, popping a strawberry in his mouth. His lips are already bright red. Yoongi is used to this by now. “You know, I used to think I'd join my dad on the strawberry farm when I was younger. That used to be, like, my goal. And now look at me.” He spreads his arms out, encompassing the whole table. “I'm sat with you assholes, taking a photography course.”

“What a glow-up,” Jimin deadpans, to which Taehyung merely grins.

Yoongi looks down at his own meal. The only reason he avoids these conversations is because they often get him thinking, and that's dangerous territory. He thinks enough when he's in class. He thinks enough when his parents are yelling at him for not doing a business degree. He thinks enough without the added stress of thinking about someone he doesn't even know.

But Namjoon really takes no prisoners. He leaves Yoongi pondering over the strange individual who had sat beside him that morning, the conversation he'd had with you, the way you'd seemed genuinely flustered over the array of possibilities that the word 'Love' brought to the table.

Yoongi wouldn't be surprised if you didn't show up to class next week. You honestly didn't seem too passionate.

---

Okay, so maybe Yoongi was a little quick to judge.

He should have given you more credit, because here you are, and here he is, and the both of you are fifteen minutes early to the first class on a Monday morning.

Yoongi pauses in the doorway, his folder pressed to his chest in the same way all them pretentious, quirky girls always hold them in the movies. He feels a little bit ridiculous, but there was no room in his backpack, so he made do with what he had.

Your head is down. You don't see him yet. He gets the urge to run, just come back in fifteen minutes like a normal kid, but then he's frozen and he's staring at you, silently wondering why on earth you're still here when he's already put two and two together and deduced the fact that you were, by no means, meant to be a Modern Arts student.

Before he can swivel round and flee, your head pops up from beneath the desk. How your eyes immediately train on Yoongi is a mystery, but what he knows for sure is that there is absolutely no chance of him making a swift get-away now.

“Oh! Yoongi!” You grab your bag from his chair, slipping it beneath the desk. Clearly you've already assumed Yoongi is going to sit beside you again.

He hates that you're right.

“Good morning,” you say when he slumps down next to you. “I didn't take you as the early type.”

“I'm not. Not really.”

“Well, I'm sure Mrs Seymour really appreciates your effort.”

Yoongi's eyebrow twitches. “It's Miss.”

You glance over at him. “What?”

“It's Miss Seymour,” he repeats, even though he isn't sure why he's doing this at all. “She's not married.”

You pause. For a second, Yoongi is positive he's somehow offended you – it wouldn't be the first time. He really does try and make decent conversation, but who even knows how to start a conversation these days? Who has the time to figure all of that out?

He starts pulling his hood over his head. Your hand snaps out and tugs it back down.

“Oh,” you say. “Thanks for telling me. That would have been embarrassing if I'd gotten her name wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“So, do you know what we're doing today?” You shuffle down in your seat, getting comfortable, as if Yoongi going through the lesson plan is equivalent to a camp-fire story.

“Probably just carrying on with what we were doing last lesson,” he replies. “Writing about love or whatever.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that.” You shake your head. “You know, I had all weekend to think about that stupid prompt, and I'm still none the wiser.”

“That sucks.”

“Did you come up with anything?”

“Nothing good. Nothing I can work with.”

You nod as if you understand. “That's just it, isn't it? Love has so many different pieces to it, so many different elements, but it really just comes down to our skill. Like, if we can't write about it, then we might as well not even waste our energy thinking about it.”

Yoongi nods. You aren't wrong. He wonders whether or not he should say that to you. Is that a decent response?

“You're not wrong.”

You grin. Yoongi gives himself one point.

“Have you always been a Modern Arts student?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Yoongi pauses. “Yeah. Most of the time.” He gestures round the classroom. “This whole love thing isn't really my cup of tea, though.” Cup of tea? What does that even mean?

“I gathered that.” Your voice comes out as more of a giggle. Yoongi hates that he notices this, hates the warm feeling that immediately sprouts in the pit of his stomach – it's not very often someone giggles in his vicinity, especially when no one else is around. He's usually either got his AirPods in and his hood up, or he's saying some self-deprecating joke that just makes the other person uncomfortable.

He glances over at you. You don't look uncomfortable at all. In fact, you're slouched, as if being in Yoongi's presence is the most natural thing in the world.

He decides to slouch, too.

“I used to be a maths student,” you say. “It was difficult.”

“I can imagine.” He pauses. He has a right to ask a question, doesn't he? Asking questions is a human right, isn't it? “Why did you transfer?”

“It was just. . . . difficult,” you repeat, shrugging at your lack of a better term. “I mean, clearly I enjoyed it at some point, or else I wouldn't have chosen it in the first place, but it's a lot of work and it just wasn't. . . . I don't know, like, fulfilling enough. You know what I mean?”

Yoongi doesn't. He nods anyway.

“So I decided to give Modern Arts a try.”

“Is that not bad for your grades?” Yoongi spits out before his confidence wavers and he crawls back into his tiny hole of isolation. “Like, hopping from course to course? What happens if it turns out you don't even like Modern Arts?”

You shrug. Your pout says you don't entirely care. “Then I'll find something else.”

“Must be exhausting.”

“Not really. What is exhausting is dragging yourself out of bed every morning to go to a class you don't even like. I'd much rather be a little bit behind and happy than ahead and hating every minute of it.”

Again, Yoongi doesn't really understand. Maybe it's because he's been settled in his major his entire life – from the moment his fingers touched the keys of that piano, he's never wanted to leave it. He took Modern Arts for the same reason most other students take Modern Arts – because they want to study Modern Arts.

You, however, don't seem to care too much about structure, or the future at all, for that matter. You hop from course to course like it's no big deal, like the end of year exams aren't the things that are going to determine your overall worth as a human being.

At least, that's what Yoongi thinks. His grades mean an awful lot to him, but he's heard differing opinions.

“I'll figure myself out,” you say. Yoongi didn't realise he hadn't replied. “We all get there in the end.”

Yoongi hums. It's the only response he can think of, but you seem perfectly content with it.

The two of you sit like that until the first bell rings and the class gradually begins to fill up. Miss Seymour walks in wearing a slightly oversized body-suit with parrots on it, along with a pair of dangly earrings that look about three seconds away from snapping her earlobes off completely.

Yoongi gives her a small smile. He isn't sure why. He must be feeling nice this morning.

Hoseok and Namjoon walk past his table. Hoseok claps him on the back, offers a greeting before his brown eyes flick to you; you're busy scavenging in your bag again, and Yoongi watches as you pull a piece of gum out, frown and then quickly toss it back into your bag.

“Hello!” Hoseok almost-yells.

Your head snaps up and round, a grin immediately taking shape. Yoongi thinks it's been practised, because there's no way in hell someone can smile so well in such a short amount of time. Without warning, too.

“Hi!” you almost-yell right back.

You two give each other a high five, and Hoseok walks away.

Yoongi frowns, turning to you. “Do you and Hoseok know each other?”

“Hm?” You've gone back to studying the contents of your backpack.

“You and Hoseok. Have you met before?”

“Oh. No. I've never seen that guy in my life.” You look at him over your shoulder. Yoongi has the sudden urge to brush your hair away from your mouth. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Behind him, Hoseok and Namjoon howl with laughter.

---

Yoongi is starting to get angry.

The blank page, the half-chewed pen, the fact that he's going to have to buy another Refill Pad because he's ripped almost all the pages out of his other one. Call him dramatic, but he's ninety percent sure absolutely nothing in his life is going to work in his favour ever again.

The library isn't even half full, which is weird, because it's exam season and it should be. Nonetheless, the quiet murmuring distracts him. He knows he's just looking for an excuse to get away from his music homework, which makes his anger even worse. Who can you trust if your own brain is going against you?

He squeezes his eyes closed, placing his head against the table. He doesn't want to make a scene, but if this final nerve gets plucked in the next ten seconds, he's fully prepared to flip his chair and scream at the top of his lungs.

So maybe it's a good thing that you seem to be having an even worse day than he is.

He hears you opening the library door. Everyone does. As per usual, your foot gets caught on the door frame and your casual walk turns into a stumble. The apologies fall from your lips, your folder crashes to the floor, and the entire library goes silent.

Yoongi looks up. You're on your knees, gathering up a pile of papers. Nobody is helping you.

“Sorry,” you mutter on repeat. It breaks Yoongi's heart a little bit.

He stands up and goes over to help you; it's not a heroic move. To be quite honest, he's only doing it because he wants to get out of that god damn seat, and the distraction of your misfortunes is a welcome one. He drops to the ground beside you and starts bundling up the pages, rapidly thinking up a conversation starter that might make you feel a little more comfortable.

Your eyes snap up. “Yoongi! Hey!”

Apparently you have the conversation starter covered.

He tries for a smile. It probably looks too forced. He quickly looks back down. “Hey.”

“God, I'm such an idiot,” you continue. “I probably just distracted you from some, like, really important homework, didn't I? You're probably so far behind now. You really didn't have to help me if you're busy – this is me just – you know – being me!” You laugh awkwardly. You flick your gaze around at the staring students before looking away. “Fuck.”

“You're fine,” Yoongi grumbles, keeping his head down. “They'll forget about this in about ten minutes.”

“I hope so. This is the fourth time I've fallen in the past week. Fourth!”

“Maybe you should remember that the door frame is-”

“It's elevated. Yes. I – uh – I understand that.” You pluck the pile of papers from Yoongi's arms. He sits back on his heels, watching you be awkward for the first time since he met you – it's weird. He isn't sure if he likes it or not. Then again, he wasn't sure if he liked your overly-bubbly personality, either, and he's beginning to think that maybe he's being a little selfish trying to grab for the best of both worlds.

You shuffle the papers a little bit, give Yoongi an awkward smile before the two of you finally realise you're still kneeled on the floor. You start to rise, stumbling only once. You manage to catch yourself this time.

“Thank you,” you say. “Uh. . . What are you doing here, then?”

You want to start conversation. Yoongi feels oddly flattered.

Instead of giving you a direct answer, Yoongi nods in the direction of his study area, beckoning for you to follow him. He offers you the empty chair beside him, and you sit down with your legs crossed. Yoongi makes an effort to stay as far to the left as possible, just in case he takes up your space. He doesn't want to take up your space.

You peak over at his blank sheet of paper and frown. Then, your eyes trail towards the array of information sheets, and realisation dawns on your expression.

“Oooooh. You're doing the music homework.”

“I'm trying to do the music homework,” Yoongi corrects. “It's a lot easier said than done.”

“You know, I'd nearly forgotten all about that.”

“Well, it's due in a few days. You should probably get started on it.”

“Probably.” You place your pages on the desk, setting up camp, per se. Yoongi finds that he doesn't even mind your plans to stay. “So have you got any idea what you're gonna write about?”

“Nope.”

“That's not a good start.”

Yoongi shrugs.

You hum, sitting back. You tap your chin thoughtfully, and Yoongi wants to tease you about it but he doesn't really think you two are close enough for that kind of thing yet, so he doesn't.

“Have you ever been in love, Yoongi?”

His head snaps up. “What?”

“You know.” You roll your hands. “Have you ever been in love with anyone? Like, romantically in love.” Yoongi stares at you. You sigh. “Okay then. We'll make it less heavy – have you ever thought you were romantically in love with someone?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You tap the information sheet – specifically, the word LOVE written in big capital letters at the top.

He swallows. “Oh.”

You lean forward. “Judging by that reaction, I would say you have.”

“Well you're wrong, because I haven't.”

Your eyebrows fly up. “Never? Not even when you were in primary school? Did you never have one of them relationships where the guy – or girl – would give you a flower on the playground and then you'd think you were in love for, like, a week?”

Yoongi raises a brow. That's all the answer you need, apparently.

You guffaw, shaking your head. “Min Yoongi, you have missed out. I was going to suggest writing something about that, but your inexperience has once again trumped my plans.”

“Sorry.”

“Maybe you can write about discovering love, then.” You're talking almost to yourself, even though your suggestions are aimed at him. “Being your age and not knowing what romantic love feels like – you could write about it from the perspective of someone who doesn't really know what all the fuss is about.”

Yoongi nearly winces. “It's not that I don't know what all the fuss is about. I've just never . . . cared about it.”

“Ever read Romeo and Juliet?”

“Of course.”

“Did you think it was romantic?”

“More stupid than anything else.”

You blink. “Yeah. Yeah, you definitely don't know what all the fuss is about.” Yoongi opens his mouth to retort, but you leap up and cut him off. “But that's a good thing! It means you have something to write about!”

“That's going to be so depressing.”

“So? It's art. It's allowed to be depressing – as long as it means something.” You point at his blank page. “Or, in this case, as long as it completes your homework assignment.”

Yoongi looks down at the table. It's a start, he'll admit, but the idea hasn't piqued his interest. He knows when he's excited for a project, because he feels it in his bones and his blood, and his fingers itch to grab the pen and start writing – at this moment in time, he feels none of that.

Nonetheless, he humours you. “I'll think about it.”

“Please do,” you reply, before you grab his hand and start scribbling numbers on the back of it. “And please keep me updated on your progress, because I'm just as lost as you are.”

Yoongi tugs his hand back. “Is that your number?”

“Yep! Please text me. Just text. Phone calls make me uncomfortable.” You pause. “Although I might like phone calls with you. I don't know. It depends.”

Yoongi blushes, looking away as you stand up and say your goodbye's. He doesn't know where you're going, and he isn't sure if that's an appropriate question to ask, so he simply smiles and waves you off before slumping back in his seat.

As soon as you leave, his anger returns ten-fold. He didn't even realise it had disappeared as soon as you fell into the room.

----

Yoongi likes rivers. He always has, and he's quite certain he always will.

Ever since he was a little boy, rivers have been a source of inspiration for him. He thinks it might be the noise, the faint trickle that could be water, or the footsteps of someone coming up behind him. He can lose himself within that sound for hours on end, and those hours will still feel like nothing more than a few minutes.

His favourite river is the one just behind his uncle's house. It's big. Benches line the side of it, so he always has a place to sit. Ducks walk around in the grass, and they jump into the water and they make little noises that only add to the peaceful ambience.

Yoongi stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks along the riverbank, trailing his fingertips along the top of the weeds. His music homework burns a hole in his backpack, but he's trying hard to ignore that. For now, he just wants to settle in.

It's night time, but that doesn't bother him. He can work in all conditions – in fact, he wrote one of his favourite songs sitting under a canopy when it was pouring it down. He remembers that day well, how his uncle had basically screamed at him for risking his own health all for the sake of a sheet of paper. Yoongi had no regrets.

He finally settles down on an empty bench and takes the sheet of paper from his bag. He presses it against one of his sociology textbooks, but at this point, he doesn't even care about presentation; he just wants something on the page. He wants to get it finished, because in the next two days, he's going to have to hand it in and he'll be damned if he lets one stupid project jeopardize his final grade.

So, he sits down and he gets to work.

He hates it all. It's like pulling teeth, each and every one of his thoughts being forced through sludge in his brain. Nothing sounds right, and he can't get anything to rhyme, and honestly, nothing he's written is even coherent.

He bites his bottom lip. He has to keep his anger in check, of course, because he's in public and god forbid he show any amount of emotion outside the house. He really does just want to hurl the piece of paper into the river, though, and maybe yell some curse words, even though that's unnecessary and will do nothing for him in the end.

Instead, he moves the textbook from his lap and stays seated. He stares out at the river, silently cursing the water for not bringing the usual bout of inspiration when he needs it most. He can already hear Namjoon and Hoseok in the back of his mind, telling him this project doesn't even matter and it's just a simple homework assignment – neither of them care as much as he does, and maybe that's normal. Maybe Yoongi's the weird one, obsessing over his final grade as if it matters.

“Oh! Look who we have here!”

Yoongi's head snaps up. His lips part. He's going to say something, but the words get absorbed by the confusion over the fact that you're currently standing behind him.

“What?” It's all he can manage.

You grin, skipping to his side. You're wearing a thin jacket today, along with a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans that are marked with grass stains. Your shoes are the same, and there's tiny strands of grass in your hair that Yoongi has to fight to ignore.

“It's me!” you exclaim, as if Yoongi would forget. “I didn't know you came down here.”

“I – uh – my uncle. . . He lives. . .” Yoongi awkwardly gestures to the top of the hill, where his uncle's house is.

You nod, not even following the direction of his gesture. Yoongi wonders why he bothers. “I've just never seen you around before. I come here almost every weekend.” You swing your leg over the back of the bench and perch on top of it. Yoongi shuffles over, silently offering you the place beside him, but you're quite content sitting right there.

You nudge his backpack with your shoe. “The music homework?”

“Yup.”

“You know, I finished mine the other day. After our little chat in the library.”

Yoongi looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Really? How long did it take?”

“About ten minutes.”

He frowns. “Lucky you.”

“Hey, that's not to say it's any good.” You nudge him with your foot. “I'll admit I rushed it. I bet yours is gonna be ten times better than mine.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I actually have to have something to hand in to be better than you.”

You fall silent, and Yoongi wonders if he said something wrong again. He doesn't even care at this point, though, because the sheet beside him is still blank, and he has absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Love. Such a stupid, dumb concept. Did Miss Seymour even take into consideration that maybe some people don't believe in love? She may find this to be a bit of a surprise, but not every teenager in the world is a hopeless romantic – some of them just want to curl up and watch Netflix. Some of them are perfectly content being on their own. Some of them don't even want to think about love and it's complexities, because life is difficult enough without it.

God, he's being such an idiot. He knows this. It's a homework assignment – so what if he doesn't get the expected grade? So what if Miss Seymour looks at it and laughs? So what if his emotional capabilities are sitting at zero?

It doesn't matter. Nothing fucking matters.

“Yoongi?”

He doesn't look up.

You reach forward and place your hand over his own, and it's only then does he realise he's been gripping the strap of his backpack a little too tightly. The blood has drained from his knuckles, rushing to his fingertips until his fingers look like candles.

He quickly releases and pulls his hand into his chest. “Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologise.” You tilt your head. He can feel you staring at him, but he doesn't meet your gaze. “Are you okay? This isn't bothering you too much, is it?”

He closes his eyes. “I just . . . really don't want to fail.”

He isn't sure why he's telling you this, why you would even care, why he even cares. But the words are out, and suddenly you're sliding from the back of the bench to sit beside him, and then your head is on his shoulder and your humming something Yoongi isn't familiar with, but he wants to be familiar with it because it sounds so beautiful coming out of your mouth.

“You're a very tense man, Yoongi.”

He snorts. “Oh?”

“Mm. That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met.”

“How tense I am?”

“Yeah. That, and the fact that you don't seem to care about it at all.”

“About what?”

“How tense you are.” You squeeze his upper arm, as if all the tension you're describing is in that single muscle. “You've just kind of accepted that that's how you are. Haven't you?”

“I've never been any other way.”

“That's sad.” You sit up. “Why don't we go in the river?”

Yoongi's head snaps up, eyes suddenly frantic. “What?”

But you're grinning, and Yoongi knows you well enough to know that isn't a good thing. You rise from the bench, and you're already tugging your shirt off before he has a chance to tell you to stop. There is no shame to your movements, no worry whatsoever.

Yoongi wants to know what that's like.

“Come on!” you exclaim. “The waters cold!”

“Exactly!” Yoongi stumbles up, reaches for your hand but suddenly it's at the button of your jeans and Yoongi flinches away. “Y/N, stop. The dark won't stop us getting caught.”

“So what if we get caught? I'll keep my bra on.”

And then you're tugging your jeans off and leaping into the river.

Your scream echoes through the trees. A tiny splash of water lands on Yoongi's arm and he grits his teeth – you were telling the truth. The water is ice cold.

“You're gonna get hypothermia in there!” he calls out.

“Don't be silly! Just get in! It warms up eventually!”

Yoongi closes his eyes; you're going to drive him mad.

Apparently, you're also going to persuade him to jump in an ice cold river.

He's peeling off his shirt before his sensible brain can kick in. And then it's his trousers, and then his socks and then he's lowering himself into the river, using the river bank as a grip.

You wade over to him. His eyes widen, and he tries to bat you away, but you're laughing as you tug his hand and pull him into the water. He grits his teeth, trying to bite back the scream threatening to rise to the surface.

It's replaced by a laugh, instead.

He's more surprised than anyone. You stare at him for a second as he tosses his head back and wipes his hand over his face, trailing the ice cold water drops down his skin. He can feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his head, but he doesn't even care, because this is the most daring thing he's ever done and he feels so free. He feels like an actual teenager.

It's weird.

Finally, he drops his hand. His fists splat against the surface, splashing you. You squeal, snapping from your trance long enough to splash him back.

“We're not having a water fight,” he says, walking backwards. “That's just cheesy.”

“Awk, come on,” you scoff, splashing him again. “Why can't we just let ourselves be cheesy once in a while? It's freeing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but splashes you anyway. It's the start of a fight, a battle where Yoongi ends up dunked under the water three times, and you end up curled around the trunk of a tree on the river bank, kicking your foot at Yoongi any time he tries to grab for you. The two of you are laughing so hard, no pauses, no care in the world, and Yoongi is sure he's going to wake his uncle up and get a scolding for this, but he doesn't even care.

God, it feels good to just not give a fuck.

Finally, though, the night closes. Not even the moon can illuminate the grass, and the two of you finally decide it's time to pack up and head home.

Yoongi falls on his back on the river bank. You follow close behind him, and it's not even a big deal that you're only in a bra and underwear and he's only in a pair of soaked black boxers. You stare up at the stars, his hand on his stomach, your hand trailing through your tangled hair, and everything seems so right.

Yoongi didn't realise just how tense he was until he was calm again.

“My mum's going to kill me, you know,” you say.

Yoongi snatches at a dragonfly. “Oh.”

“But I had fun, so it doesn't matter.”

“Yeah.”

You spare him a glance. “You don't talk much, do you?”

“Not really.” Yoongi looks over at you. “But I had fun today. More fun than I've had in . . . in a very, very long time.”

You grin, and suddenly Yoongi isn't even worried about what could be lurking in the darkness. “I'm happy to hear that.”

You look back up at the stars, even though you have a curfew that you're clearly breaching, even though you're both soaked and will probably get some sort of cold from sitting out in the grass all night. Yoongi joins you, biting his lower lip to hide the smile wanting to force it's way to the surface.

Suddenly, he knows exactly what he wants to write about.

----

Yoongi really shouldn't be this nervous. This is his best friend. Namjoon, who has read his work on countless occasions, who has given him nothing but complete honesty from the very beginning.

And yet somehow, this feels different.

The two of them are sat in Yoongi's room this evening, an uncommon affair considering Yoongi has indulged himself fully in his studies these past few months; despite his mother finally letting him bring friends over whenever he wants, Yoongi keeps the front door locked and his curtains drawn, just to keep distractions at an all time low.

Today he makes an exception.

Namjoon sits on the spinning chair. Yoongi is cross-legged on his bed, eyeing the taller man because that's all he can think to do, besides tossing himself out the window. He doesn't even know where the nerves have come from, but they only double in size when he looks up to see Namjoon raising an eyebrow at the sheet of paper that has been giving Yoongi grief for days.

Yoongi leans forward. “So....”

“Bro...”

Yoongi flinches back. “Is it bad?”

“It's a bit. . .” Namjoon tilts his head as he searches for the correct word. Finally, he gives up and looks at Yoongi with a raised brow. “You really feel like this?”

Yoongi snatches the paper back. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“And you think I'm stupid. Great. Great. That's fantastic.”

“What are you on about?”

Namjoon gestures towards the page. “Yoongi, you were obviously writing about Y/N. I've barely even spoken to the girl and I can see that.”

Yoongi has the sudden urge to laugh.

But he doesn't laugh. He should be laughing. He wants to laugh, because maybe a laugh will make his denial a little more believable.

Instead he just stares. He feels his fingers curling round the page a little tighter. He really isn't doing a very good job of being subtle.

His voice is a little too high when he says, “You're crazy.” He coughs, standing up and marching to the other side of the room, just because he needs to move before Namjoon's eyes burn a hole in his face. He focuses his attention on the mirror nailed to the back of his wardrobe door and starts fixing his already styled hair. “I don't even know Y/N that well, anyway. How would I even be able to write an entire song about her?”

“You know her well enough,” says Namjoon. “You two are always talking in class.”

“We don't talk.”

“Are you forgetting that I literally sit right behind you?”

Yoongi hollows out his cheeks, dragging a strand of hair down his nose; it's getting long. He wonders if you like it long, or if you'll perhaps prefer him with a shorter style. “There's nothing in there that indicates it's about Y/N. It's just some bullshit I made up to get something on paper.”

Namjoon hums. Yoongi closes his eyes – that's the noise Namjoon does when he's about to prove somebody wrong, and Yoongi doesn't really want to be left embarrassed in his own god damn home.

“What about the line where you talk about how cute it is when this random person stumbles?”

Yoongi fluffs up his hair some more.

“Or the line where you go on about how you admire their personality, even though it's literally the complete opposite of your own?”

Yoongi pulls on his lower lip, inspects his teeth.

“Oh! How about the line where you describe this person making you feel alive for the first time in years?” Namjoon hums. “You didn't tell me you two went out together.”

Something snaps. Yoongi spins round and jumps onto the bed, snatching the page off the desk on his way past. He shoves it towards Namjoon.

“Fuck, is it really that obvious? What line gave it away?” He groans, trailing his hands through his hair. “I can't read this out in front of everyone if she's gonna know it's about her, Namjoon.”

Namjoon takes the sheet and gently places it on the bedside table. “It was a good song.”

“I don't care-”

“What are you so worried about anyway? It's obvious she likes you back.”

Yoongi blinks. “Fuck off.”

Namjoon's eyes widen. “I'm serious!”

But he isn't. He can't be serious. Kim Namjoon, the most serious, honest man Yoongi has ever met, is lying right to his face.

“Right,” Yoongi exclaims, “so I'll just have to write something different then.”

Namjoon grabs his wrist. “Don't you dare.”

“I'm not handing that in. There's no way.”

“But it's good! You'll get the highest grade in the fucking class with that, bro!”

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, I'll pass on a good grade if it means sparing my dignity.”

Namjoon gasps, flinching away as if Yoongi's skin has burned him. “I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. This is gonna go down in history.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and then he's making his way towards the bedside table, and then he's picking up the sheet of paper.

Namjoon cries out, tries to grab his wrist but Yoongi is quicker, and Yoongi is determined, and Yoongi is embarrassed that he ever let himself get so wrapped up in his own emotions that he actually wrote something like that.

He spent two hours trying to put his feelings into words. In two seconds, the candle flame has demolished everything.

----

Yoongi has never been so tired in his entire life.

Now, Yoongi has lived a very productive life. A fairly long life, too, considering he's very nearly reaching his nineteenth year. Throughout that long existence, he has been properly energized perhaps a total number of four times. He's used to exhaustion.

But today's exhaustion is really just taking the piss.

He is genuinely willing to fall asleep on the desk, which is dangerous both because of the risk of getting caught, and the fact that two of his best friends sit directly behind him and will not hesitate to write inappropriate things on his forehead, or the back of his neck, or whatever lick of skin they can find peeking out of Yoongi's black hoodie.

So he stays upright, even though it costs him a great deal of energy that his coffee is not currently refilling.

He takes another sip and hopes for the best.

“Gooooooood morning!”

Yoongi ignores the immediate flutter in his stomach.

“Morning.”

You place your bag on the table and start laying your books out. “How are you this morning?”

“Good.”

“You don't sound good.” You slap a hand to Yoongi's forehead. A bit of his coffee sloshes over the side of his cup. “You haven't got a temperature.” You lean down and meet his eyes. “Just tired?”

“Exhausted,” Yoongi grunts, nudging you away.

You giggle, finally taking a seat. “Well, at least you don't have to worry about your music homework any more – that's one less thing to stress about.”

“I wasn't stressing.”

“You've been stressed out for the past two weeks.”

Yoongi shrugs.

You roll your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. You're staring right at him. Yoongi wants to look away, but his eyes find yours and they struggle to leave, which is becoming an embarrassingly common occurrence recently.

“What?” he asks.

You nod towards his bag. “Can I read it?”

“Read what?”

“Your homework!”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because you might copy it.”

You stare at him. Yoongi hides his smile behind the rim of his cup.

You slap his arm. “I'm serious. I want to see what you finally came up with.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, but it's with a fondness he can't really disguise at this point – to be honest, he doesn't see a point in trying to hide it any more. You've cracked his shell. Those walls he's been building since first year are crumbling down, and no amount of denial is going to hide it.

So, he reaches into his open bag and pulls out the sheet of paper that is the reasoning behind his deterioration this morning; the words scribbled on that page kept him up until three am, and even now he's not pleased with how they turned out.

He just needed something. After scrapping his original idea, he was put right back to square one – he needed an idea, he needed inspiration, he needed to find a muse, but that muse never came. Any time he thought of the word love, the only image that popped into his head was you in that river a few nights ago, the water glistening against flesh he shouldn't have seen because you two were just friends, only friends, and friends aren't meant to see those body parts.

You take the page from him and start reading. Yoongi notices the way you absently chew on the sleeve of your hoodie as your eyes trace the page. He might have thought that was gross on anyone else, but he smiles when he sees you doing it.

Fuck. He's whipped.

He's watching you read, and he's waiting for your reaction, but he regrets this immediately when your face slowly starts to fall. Your eyes go first, moving from side to side a little faster, as if you can't wait to reach the end of the page. Then your grip tightens. Then your sleeve drops from your mouth and you're holding it with two hands.

Then, you inhale and hand it back to him.

He slowly takes it back, not once taking his eyes off you. You've gone from saying good morning and teasing him, to suddenly not even wanting to look in his direction. You instead keep your eyes on the desk, where your thumbs are fighting one another beneath the sleeves of your hoodie.

Yoongi risks leaning forward. “Did you like it?”

You nod. It's a little too quick to be believable. “I can see why everyone thinks you're amazing at Modern Arts.” You laugh, but it's forced. “Miss Seymour's gonna love it, Yoongi. Good job.”

He tries to smile. He tries to believe you. He tries to ignore your sudden silence, which is so strange to him because usually he's the one wanting you to be quiet. He's the one who deduces his responses to nothing more than one word answers or grunts, or even a nod of the head if he's feeling particularly tired that day.

But now you've gone quiet and Yoongi doesn't really like that.

He leans back in his seat. He can't really say anything, can he? What can he say, besides asking you what was wrong with his homework. Did you not like it? Sure, it's the worst thing he's ever written, but it means something completely different when a person he wants to impress thinks the same.

Miss Seymour walks in shortly after that, and the lesson begins.

She gathers up the homework, picking a few people at random to come up to the front and read theirs out. Yoongi gets slightly annoyed when his name isn't called – usually he hates being called to read, but for the love of god, if he'd have known he was just going to hand in some lyrics without needing to spit them out to the whole class, he might have kept his original draft.

Oh well. Too late now.

However, amongst those people reading, Miss Seymour chooses you.

You grab your page and stride up to the front with a confidence Yoongi isn't sure he will ever see you without. From the very first day he laid eyes on you, you've had that aura – that atmosphere that just says I don't really give a fuck what you say. Yoongi craves it, but he likes it much better on you.

You stand at the front. People start reading. Yoongi keeps his eyes on you.

And then it's your turn.

You don't inhale, don't awkwardly laugh, don't even look at the crowd as you start reading from the page, and despite the confidence that is so present in the way you stand, Yoongi can't help but take notice of the grip you have on the sheet of paper, the way your voice trembles just that little bit at the beginning.

The beginning, where you describe stumbling into class.

The beginning, where you describe sitting beside this mystery person.

The middle, where you talk about useless conversations consisting of one word answers, grunts, the occasional nod of the head.

The middle, where you say you thought it was all for nothing until one night under the stars. There was a river, and so few clothes, and laughter that you'd never heard before because it was coming from this special individual and you'd realised with a start that you hadn't heard them really laugh before.

And then the end, where you talk about how weird it is that you've fallen for someone like that.

Like that.

You don't specify. You don't really need to.

Yoongi feels like he's going to be ill. His stomach twists, and his fingers grip the edge of the table, and if he pays really, really close attention he can hear Hoseok and Namjoon squealing in the row behind him. But also, if he listens close, he can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest as he remembers the way the page shrivelled up in his hand last night, the words he'd written about you no longer meaning anything because they no longer exist.

After you've finished your reading, you ask Miss Seymour if you can be excused. It's in such a quiet voice. Yoongi has to lean forward to hear it, but Miss Seymour nods and tells you how fantastic you've done before you smile and leave the room.

Namjoon taps Yoongi on the shoulder. “Bet you feel like a dick now, huh?” Yoongi closes his eyes, his heart erratic.

----

He finds you in the garden after class.

He has another class he has to get to, but he doesn't care. He walks right past the door of the sociology room and straight into the garden, where he can see your bright yellow hoodie hidden amongst the bushes.

He knows this is stupid. He should leave you alone. He's messed up enough for one day, and the fact that he's willing to risk fucking it up even more makes him want to punch himself in the face – but the idea of leaving you like this makes him want to punch himself even more.

Yoongi sits down beside you. The old wooden bench creaks beneath his weight, and he has the sudden urge to get up and just stand, but that would look awkward, so he doesn't.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at the sky.

“Looks like it might start raining soon.”

You look up at the greying clouds. Your shoulder brushes against his when you lean back, and neither of you move. It's pleasant, almost, but there's a tension between you that no amount of physical contact will be able to conquer. Yoongi just has to suck it up and realise – sooner rather than later – that words and apologies are the only thing that can make this right again.

“I think you got the highest grade in the class, you know,” Yoongi continues. “Miss Seymour really liked your lyrics.”

“Good. That's. . . . really good, yeah.”

Yoongi glances at you. “What inspired you to write that?” God, why is he even asking? It was so obvious. You meant for him to catch on, meant for him to understand what you were trying to say, and yet he sits beside you now and acts oblivious.

You close your eyes. “Nothing.”

“Really?”

“I just wrote about love. Like I was told to do.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi turns his body towards you. “But you were going on at me about needing some inspiration. So, what inspired you?”

“Again, nothing.”

“You're lying.”

“You've gotten awfully chatty in the last fifteen minutes, haven't you?”

Yoongi bites his lip. “You know, the lyrics I showed you in class weren't the first ones I wrote. I had. . . I had another draft that was a lot better than that one.”

“So why didn't you hand it in?”

“Because I thought it would be too obvious.” He gestures between you. “If I'd have known we were doing this, I would have kept it the way it was.”

You stiffen. Yoongi can see the confusion in your face. You open your mouth to say something, to perhaps ask a question, but you close it and instead choose to just look over at him.

Yoongi shrugs as if you'd spoken. “It was a lot more honest. It was. . . a bit more meaningful than what I handed in.”

“Can I read it?”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “No, you can't. I burnt it.”

You pause. “Oh.”

“It was about you.”

“Oh.”

“Was. . . Was yours about me?” He sounds like a five year old. He sounds like a bloody five year old!

You look down at your hands, bundled up in the material of your sleeves, fingers just peeking out over the top. “Yes,” you mumble.

Yoongi's heart skips a beat, even though it really shouldn't, because he knew. He'd sat in class and listened to your retelling of that night under the stars; he wasn't an idiot. He'd written about the exact same thing, for crying out loud.

Nonetheless, his heart thunders because you've just confirmed it. There is no doubt any more. There is no but what if...

Yoongi nods. “Oh.”

You giggle. The noise startles him, and he glances over to see you awkwardly shielding your mouth from view. Yoongi raises a brow, and before he can think better of it, he's reaching forward and plucking your hand back to your side.

It lays in between you both. Yoongi places his hand on the top of it, twists your fingers together. You both just stare at the point of contact, and Yoongi doesn't know if you want anything more, or if this is finally making you realise that Yoongi really isn't the guy for you.

Because he isn't.

“This is so fucked up, you know,” he whispers.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You shouldn't like me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm . . . like this.” He gestures to himself. “And you're like that. Us being together . . . . Life doesn't work that way for people like us.”

You go quiet. Yoongi doesn't look at you.

Not until you lay your head on his shoulder.

His breath leaves him in a single moment. His fingers tighten round your own. As if the blood from his brain has been completely drained, he lets his head drop on top of yours, and it is there, sitting with you in the garden, that he takes a deep breath, and he starts to realise that maybe not everything is so bad.

Maybe there's a bit more to life than what the future holds.

Maybe Yoongi should spend a little bit more time focusing on who he is now, rather than wasting away with the idea of being something bigger.

----

“So, I don't actually like Modern Arts all that much.”

Yoongi scoffs. It's too early for words right now.

You're laying on his chest this morning, playing mindlessly with the buttons on his cookie pyjama top. He rubs your shoulder with one hand, the other plays with your hair.

“You don't sound surprised,” you continue, but you don't sound surprised that he doesn't sound surprised.

“I'm not,” he replies. “You're not exactly a very stationary individual, love.”

“But I tried this time.” You look up, resting your chin on his sternum. “I quite liked sitting beside you. That was honestly the only reason I was dragging myself out of bed every morning.��

Yoongi presses a kiss to your nose. “I appreciate the company.”

You grunt and go back to playing with his shirt buttons. Yoongi goes back to messing with your hair.

“So what made you come to this painful decision?” he asks.

“I just. . . tried it, and I didn't like it.” You shrug. “Miss Seymour will understand, right? I think she only likes me because I'm going out with her star pupil.”

“I thought you were going out with me.”

“Ha ha.” You look up at him again. “When did you start getting so sarcastic?”

Yoongi simply grins. You poke his gums, just like you always do. He pretends to bite your finger, just like he always does.

You both laugh, and it's the most beautiful noise Yoongi has ever heard in his life. He's created music that has left grown adults in tears. He's listened to orchestras play live. He's listened to the tunes of a piano his entire life, and yet none of that can beat the sound of your laughter ringing in his ear at seven am on a Monday morning.

He should probably be getting ready for school. He really can't be bothered, though.

“What course are you gonna try out next?” Yoongi asks once the laughter has settled.

“Might give English a go. Fall in love with whoever I sit with in that class. Move on. Repeat.”

Yoongi pinches your hips. “Don't even joke.”

You kiss his chin. “Sorry. I had to.”

“Did you, though?”

Your kisses trail up to his lips, and Yoongi hums at the contact. You pull away, grin and say, “Yes,” before you sit up and start getting ready for the day.

Yoongi sighs, watching you pull your spare pair of jeans on – you always leave a set of clothes in Yoongi's wardrobe, just in case you accidentally end up staying the night. This is happening more and more often recently, but neither of you are addressing the issue, because neither of you mind.

“I'll go to one more Modern Arts class today,” you say, struggling to keep upright with only one foot on the ground. “Then I'll talk to Miss Seymour about transferring.”

“Sounds good,” says Yoongi. “Do you want me to stay with you after class?”

You raise a brow. “Do you not want to go to lunch with your friends? It'll only take a few minutes, Yoongi.”

“Exactly. But then you won't be in my class any more. I need to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“I live down the street.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “No arguments.”

You roll your eyes. The sun glares down on your skin. It makes your hair look a little shinier. It makes your smile look a little brighter. It makes Yoongi want to grab you and pull you back under the covers with him.

But he doesn't. He rolls out of bed and joins you in the task of getting dressed. The two of you talk about school and your days plans, and then you decide you're going to come back to his place afterwards, and Yoongi has to stop himself from giggling because you don't even have to ask any more – you just decide you're coming over, and that's it.

He loves it. He loves you.

He thinks back to a few months prior when he was sitting in his room, fretting over a piece of paper that seemed to be the bane of his existence at the time. He remembers wondering what Miss Seymour even saw in the topic of love – back then, it was so stupid to him. It was unfair. He's young, and he's still learning how to control his feelings, and he's still learning how to understand them – and even now, months into this relationship, he still struggles to understand it sometimes.

But now, as he gets dressed beside you, he wonders what took him so long to get those lyrics out. Right now, his feelings seem so obvious. Right now, he can't quite pinpoint why he ever thought love was a bad thing.

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