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chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

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Mime Your Manners || Frank and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Perfect Pint PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden runs into Frank on a smoke break and they have a mime of a time.

There were less and less evenings that Kaden was out late enough at a bar, but he couldn’t miss the Lyon matches when he could catch them. And the only place to watch those was The Perfect Pint. That said, half time was as good a time as any to catch a quick hit of nicotine. Outside. The authenticity of the pub apparently only went so far. Kaden slipped into the alley way and pulled out his lighter, flipped it open, and… Nothing. He tried again. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled to himself, still struggling to try and make the fucking lighter work. He sighed, clean breath puffing out around the unlit cigarette pressed between his lips. Looked like he was shit out of luck. Out of the corner of his eye, Kaden spotted someone else in the alley, a tall man with a pretty distinct leather jacket. And a cloud of smoke coming off their lips. “Hey,” he asked as he approached. “Mind if I borrow your lighter? Mine seems to have bit the dust in my time of need and I don’t want to miss the second half.”

Frank lazed against one of the dumpsters that lined the back alley of the pub. Hungrily feeding off the heat of the little cigarette stick between his fingers, and the solitude; a temporary respite from a room full of drunk, happy, people. He didn’t ask for much of his work, just the occasional smoke break, which increased in frequency the longer he went without feeding. Shane MacAuley did not share this same practice, but was sympathetic and relented with relatively little input. The same could not always be said of his coworkers who could not resist a lecture about the dangers of smoking before every break. He braced himself for another one of said lectures, when the door of the alley opened. Thank christ. He took another long drag of his smoke, content to share the space silently though that didn’t last very long. Without a word, Frank reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a little red lighter, and tossed it across the distance between them. A silent gesture to indicate that the 6 feet between them was close enough. Frank wasn’t an avid follower of any of the particular sports the pub broadcasted, but working there meant he knew about them whether he liked it or not. “Which team?”

“Thanks,” Kaden said as he caught the lighter without any trouble, his brow furrowing at the gesture to stay away. Alright. Odd, but certainly not the oddest thing in this town. Still, he held up a hand and obliged. “I’m not sick or anything, for the record,” he said as he lit the cigarette. “Just French. Hard to tell the difference, surely.” He pulled out a long drag, inhaling every pit of nicotine as he could in a single breath before tossing the lighter back. He should really quit. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that. And if he didn’t, Regan sure would tell him herself. And he had cut down a lot lately, at least when he wasn’t stressed, but something about him just liked having a vice to lean on. Giving it up entirely felt like an admission of defeat, a shift from who he saw himself distinctly as just a year ago. Plus, he was fairly certain hunter healing delayed the negative effects, right? Whatever, he was probably going to die young anyway. Might as well enjoy what he could when he could. “Lyon,” he replied as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You follow football at all?” His mouth pulled into a thin line as he remembered where he was. “I mean soccer. You know, if you prefer using the wrong word for it,” he added in a joking manner. Even if he did thoroughly believe that was the wrong word.

Frank felt a strange bit of guilt and the temptation to apologise, and invite the man closer, was at the tip of his tongue. Alas, he did neither, “it’s me.” He said instead, “I’ve been working out the back in the kitchen most of the day, I probably reek. I thought I’d spare you the smell, and me the embarrassment.” The smile was an easy one, and well practiced, with just enough good natured humour laced behind the words to make the excuse (and himself) seem agreeable. He was working out the back for most of his shift today. He probably smelled. Nothing about what he said was a lie. He pocketed the lighter, taking another long drag from his smoke, in time to his new company. “Ahh,” the sound came accompanied by a puff of smoke, the corner of his mouth adopting an upward lean, “I should have guessed the Frenchman would support the French team. I don’t follow football,” he made a point to say, for his new company’s sake, “or any sport really. We were never a big sports household growing up. But when you work at a place like this and that’s all that ever plays on the TV you’re forced to know what’s going on whether you want to or not. Plus it helps us relate to our patrons...or at least according to Shane.”

Kaden huffed out a laugh. “I work in Animal Control. It’s impossible for you to be the worst thing I’ve smelled today.” Add to that he was dating the medical examiner and it was a wonder he could smell anything at all anymore. Either way, he wasn’t going to push it. Far be it from him to tell anyone to be closer to anyone. “True, but it was a question of which French team. You had a 50/50 shot either way,” he said with a small smile, taking another puff of his light. “But yeah, I grew up following Olympique Lyonnais with my dad. My parents weren’t big on the whole tv or movies thing so watching a match was pretty exciting, you know.” It was one of the few normalities he got growing up and he clung to it pretty fiercely, had to admit. He got the impression when he talked to most people, they couldn’t imagine growing up without the things he’d passed over, missed out on as a kid. Was this what it felt like? Strange. He was rarely on this side of the coin. “So how’d you end up working at a sports bar with no love of sports?” Just as he asked, a chill ran down his spine. His forehead creased as he looked around cautiously to find the source, any source. Was this guy a werewolf? Would he know if he was a little closer? No, that wasn’t how it worked, not really. Sure, his hunter senses might intensify if he got a little closer but if he concentrated, and he was, a few feet wouldn’t make a huge difference. There was a rattling in the back by the dumpsters. Kaden craned his neck to look down the alleyway before catching a glance back to his current companion as if to ask a question. Should they investigate it? He was pretty sure he would either way.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Had Frank been speaking plainly he would have said something along the lines of he could not think of anything more tiresome, although the solemn tinge to the words was a pretense designed to coax his comfort and amicability, it wasn’t as if he has any particular prejudice about people who watched sport, or followed it. Okay...maybe some prejudice, although the man in front of him did not seem the type to engage in a one sided shouting contest with the TV, which was always a good sign. “My ma’s Irish. I grew up in Boston,” the owner of the bar was a gancanagh, “I feel like it’s almost inevitable.” His reply was an odd sort of stare that made Frank ill at ease, he wasn’t looking at him anyone but rather past him to something behind. That seemed to be happening a lot lately and frankly, Frank was fucking over it. Frank followed his gaze behind him to the back of the dumpsters, just beyond the ring of light graciously provided by the alleylamp. An ominous scene to witness, made worse by the rattling of metal on metal as the lid of the furthest dumpster was shaken by some unseen force. Maybe it was just some rodent. He put out the last of his cigarette on the lid of the dumpster he had been leaning on, and was more than eager to step away from it, and its trembling twin. “It’s probably just a rat or a raccoon or something,” a really big, really jacked-up, fucking raccoon. Either way, Frank wasn’t particularly interested in finding out. “Let’s just head back inside, the game should be coming back on any minute.”

As Kaden approached the dumpster, he could feel the chills spread along his back. If he wasn’t so used to it, he’d shiver, try to shake it off. Instead, he steeled himself for what was ahead, pausing only to get a glance of the other man nearby, see if he was-- Well look at that, he wasn’t following. That-- Alright, that actually made sense. This guy had some self preservation skills. Good for him. He was doing better than half this fucking town, to be honest. “I mentioned I’m animal control, right?” he said in response. “If it’s a raccoon I can handle it, don’t worry.” He could probably handle it if it was something else, too. But that wasn’t so much because of being animal control as much as being a hunter. Logic stood that Kaden should leave it be, walk away, go inside and watch the came as his current companion suggested. But he wasn’t one to back down. So he got closer still to the rattling, reaching back for the knife in his pocket and flipping it open, opposite hand reaching out for the lid, carefully. His fingers brushed against it, he was preparing to throw it open when it flung open on its own, a small, crumbly creature leaping out. It was black and white, alright, but it was no fucking raccoon.”Putain de merde!” he shouted as he lunged for it, waving the knife in front of him, trying to get a piece of the mime monster. He couldn’t manage before it threw itself, stomach leaned back to reveal its teeth, at the second smoker. “Watch out!” he yelled, trying to pull the beast away and not hurt himself in the process. Or turn striped again.

Frank, with some combination of adrenaline and fighting instinct, threw himself out of the line of fire of the set of angry gnashing teeth. Eager and hungry: a deadly combination. “What the fuck?!” His fear was palpable; weighing down his gaze as it skirted across his surroundings, tinging his cheeks with paleness as his eyes finally settled on the monster, a frown tugged at his brows, growing harsher and digging deeper the longer he tried to make sense of the beast, to put some sort of identification to the stripped abomination. Logic dictated that if he knew what it was, he would also know how to beat it. Logic was made a shadow by the fear and adrenaline that had made temporary home of his mind, and thinking was infinitely more difficult when those set of teeth turned on him again. Maybe it had preference for fae flesh? He wasn’t sure, and at this point was too afraid to ask. (Who the fuck was he even asking?) In any case, he couldn’t very well stand around waiting to get chomped on. That, at least, was clear enough to prompt action as Frank’s hand grappled for the nearest thing he could use as a weapon: a long metal pipe, that Frank himself had discarded after he fixed the pub’s sink not too long ago. Perhaps someone somewhere liked him after all. Frank’s arm rose, the metal pipe in hand, in a poor imitation of a baseball player (he was bad at sports, but boy did he have a mean swing)—and brought the improvised bat down onto the little beast’s head. Was it its head? He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Point was; he hit it where its teeth were, and he hit it hard.

Before Kaden could reach out and grab the monster by the scruff (did it have that? Putain, guess he didn’t get a chance to find out), the other man had whacked it with a pipe. The creature let out a squeal that was like nothing he’d ever heard before. Fucking hell, that was satisfying to watch. “Good job you g--” Kaden’s words caught in his throat as he saw the pipe rise away from the mime monster. It was curved. It hadn’t been curved before. “Bordel de merde!” This was cursed. So fucking cursed. The creature turned back towards the guy and leaned backwards, revealing its teeth lined stomach once more. Only this time, a long black and white striped tongue rolled out. Kaden didn’t know what the fuck it planned to do with that, but he sure didn’t like it. He leapt over and grabbed the tongue to pull it taught before slicing down through it with his knife. It severed easily enough, but there was another ungodly screech as the creature flew back, rolling away from them both. The tongue was still in his hands and it burned, like it was covered with some sort of acid. Kaden let go with a scream and it fell to the ground. Only it was still moving, slithering like a snake. “Putain de merde,” he said again, this time more horrified than annoyed. Before he could do anything else, there was another striped tongue splaying out towards them from the monster across the alleyway. His hand was throbbing, but he kept his grip on his knife and tried to slash out at the-- “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The blade on his knife was eroding. And to make matters worse, the severed-tongue turned snake was about to curl its way around his companion. Kaden tried to slam it to keep it from moving, but the monster sent its new tongue out to lash him and he ducked out of the way.

For a moment, fear was replaced by horrible fascination as they both realised the pipe was now curved to the shape of the impact. Only a moment. Fear returned just in time to propel Frank into action, prompting his legs to fling him aside just as the Frenchman wrestled with the monster’s…tongue? An already gruesome sight made only worse as his knife detached the tongue from its throat (can it even be called a throat?) and tossed it aside. The scream was loud, and within it Frank recognised a more human one. His companion had learned of his misstep too late, and now the striped tongue seemed a lot more threatening than it was as it writhed toward him. “Fuck me!” Frank half gagged, half groaned; horrified and sickened both. He didn’t know how to kill it, that much was clear. He didn’t know if it could be killed, but he didn’t have to kill it, he just needed to stop it. Now how to stop a supernatural thing? How to stop him? Iron worked well. Although the odds of finding iron in a pub owned and operated by a fae was next to none. So what next? “Jesus H!” Taking advantage of his relapse in thought, the snake—tongue—thing lurched forward. Frank had no time to think so he didn’t, but batted at it as hard as he could with his curved bat. The tongue hit the lid of an open dumpster with a wet slap and fell inside, the lid falling closed behind it. That’ll work.

The pub’s dumpsters were not yet emptied. They were big and heavy to boot. He didn’t need to kill it, he just had to stop it. Frank’s supernatural inheritance did not lend him any great advantage when it came to strength, but even on his own Frank was strong. Certainly strong enough to push a dumpster. You didn’t need to be very strong to knock someone out if you had the speed behind the punch. Without much thought (at all), Frank heaved the dumpster away from the wall and positioned it into a straight path down the length of the alleyway that ended at the brick wall. Apparently he was also dumb enough to follow on a plan that was more mad than sound, and with probably very little odds of success. “Please work, please work, please work—move!” With his legs (and a sweep of his wings), and a healthy dose of fear and adrenaline, as leverage, Frank put his entire weight onto the side of the dumpster. It obeyed with surprising ease, barreling toward the set of teeth and, the attached, striped tongue. His stomach churned at the initial impact but he wouldn’t slow, and did not slow until he felt the final lurch of the dumpster as metal hit flesh, hit brick wall. It was as if a thunder had echoed across the narrow alleyway, and the sheer force of the impact kicked back against Frank with enough ferocity to send him onto his back and knocked the wind out of him.

“Nice hit!” Kaden shouted as he watched the other man take a swing at the flying mime tongue with a curved pipe. His brow furrowed as he tried to follow whatever it was that he was doing next. “Shit!” He ducked to the side as the dumpster swung out towards him. The guy was strong. Was he a hunter? Kaden didn’t know but it didn’t fucking matter right now. He saw what was happening and ran to help, trying to throw some of his strength in to help trap the mime monster but it seemed like he didn’t have to. The other guy had it. The sound of it crunching against the wall should have been satisfying. Only Kaden knew how resilient these fuckers were. That sound didn’t mean shit. And it looked like he had put his whole force into it, too. “Shit, are you okay?” Kaden didn’t get a chance to get an answer, the dumpster was pummeling right back towards them both. “Fucking hell!” he shouted and threw himself at the dumpster, stopping it before it barreled into them both. He thought about pushing it back away from them again, but he remembered the tongue snake thing was inside. He reached for the lid, scrambled for the lock and made sure the dumpster was going to stay shut. Just in time, too, the strange four-legged creature was peeling itself from the wall and wandering back towards them both. It was like the crumbs that had formed it in the first place were pulling themselves back together, congealing. He really hated the sight of it, but it transfixed him for a moment.

Fuck, right. He had to act. Mime monster. Made of crumbs. This was probably insane and moronic. But it just might work. Kaden frantically looked around and dug a bit through the trash. The monster was making its way back towards them, its tongue ready to unleash, he could tell. Fuck, fuck, fuck, there had to be one of these in the trash. Just one. He dug some more and found it! A water bottle. Still full of water. Thank god. He ran over, ripped it open, and poured it on the creature. It squealed and screeched, but it was melting, breaking up into smaller pieces, the crumbs once again separating. He was about to turn on his heel and run when he realized it was probably a shitty idea to leave the monster out in the open like that for someone else to run into. Fuck. His eyes darted around and spotted a plastic bag. It’d have to do. He scooped up the pieces of monster like it was dog droppings, tied the bag up and threw it in the dumpster. “Come on, let’s go!” he said, running over to grab the other man’s arm and get them back safely inside. “Uh, I guess be careful when taking out that trash later.”

It was a sound that would haunt his nightmares. The screeching, the hissing, the gurgling as its own acid was choked out of it, the very body of the beast crumbling apart like wet sand. Frank had never seen any creature crumble the way that it did. It was as if the beast brought its ghostly hand (or claw, or whatever it was) and dragged it down his spine, causing a chill to rise in its place. It was a horrific scene but he could not bring himself to look away, until he felt a warm grip on his arm and he felt his entire body seize up. Were it not for the realisation that he still had his jacket on, that the other man’s hand was on the leather and not his skin, he would have jerked it out of his grasp. Thankfully after what they had just gone through, Frank didn’t need much persuading at all to leave.

Inside, the pub was peaceful…well, as peaceful as far as pubs went; some heads turned in the direction of the door as Frank and his companion burst in, but otherwise they were completely oblivious to the events that occurred not five feet away from some of them. From one of the television screens someone scored a goal, and a table erupted into a celebratory chorus. Enviably ignorant. Frank startled back to himself at the Frenchman's voice. He detected a thin note of humour laced through his words, but could not quite replicate the same enthusiasm in his own voice when he said, “yeah…right. I’ll keep that in mind.” The image of the writhing acidic tongue, and the set of razor teeth that guarded it, was one that would be not easily forgotten anytime soon. “What the fuck was that?” He said finally, strangely calm though he could feel his own heart beating a mile a minute. “You knew to grab the water bottle. I mean when that…thing attacks you, and you go dumpster diving for something you could use to defend yourself with, I mean call me crazy but I don’t think a water bottle is very high on the list of weapons you could use. Not unless you know it would stop it.” He said again in the same measured tone even when he felt anything but calm, but when the alternative was to freak out in the middle of his place of work in front of all his colleagues and customers, it wasn’t as if Frank had much of a choice. “So what the fuck kind of animal control are you?”

Kaden leaned over and braced his hands against his thighs, trying to bring his pulse back down after the fight outside. The pub was the same as before, lively and completely oblivious to anything that had happened outside just now. They had no idea how close they were to dealing with a monster had they taken one singular step outside. “I have no idea,” he said, shaking his head as he straightened himself up to look back at his companion. “I mean yeah I saw it in my apartment complex a while back. It was-- Okay, so I was being sent cookies. By the mimes. It’s always the fucking mimes. And they kept sending them and they were black and white and cursed. Fucking cursed. Some were stuck in my door. Not on. In. And then the thirteenth day. Thirteenth because it was fucking cursed, they-- the cookies-- They exploded. And the walls: striped. The hallway: striped. I was--” He stopped. On second thought maybe leave that out. No need to explain his momentary stripes. Or the mime face paint. “And the crumbs. The crumbs, they-- They built up a thing.” He gestured, his hands trying to make a vaguely monster-y shaped thing. “That thing. A monster thing. Like the ones in the alleyway by those mime places, you know?” The look on his face said he didn’t know. Putain. If only he could stop talking, but no, his mouth wouldn’t stop moving. “But I don’t know, I figured crumbs. Water. Might work. Because I can’t figure out how to kill it because you saw-- you saw what happened when you hit it. The pipe. It bent. That thing. It’s fucking indestructible. The mimes. They always fucking come back.” It was then he realized how absolutely fucking insane he sounded. And that this guy might be onto what he really was. Putain. “What do you mean what kind of animal control am I? The kind that works for the fucking police, that kind.” Sure. That made it better. Great.

“Cursed mime cookies…right.” A pause, and then a resigned, “excellent.” Frank angled his head a small fraction to the left, the gesture one of grudging acceptance. Experience had counseled (begrudgingly) him that to deny the explanation or to demand logic to the madness would somehow always succeed in making him more insane. After all, he had already seen ghost girls crawling out of leaky TVs, and was very nearly impaled by a rampant moose were it not for the intervention of his friend, the werewolf, and he’d had seen through a storm of dog-toys, why not add mime monsters to the fucking list? Or perhaps he ought to curate a new one: A series of things White Crest will try to kill him with. Mime monsters existed somewhere near the top, right next to killer moose.

“Animal control that works for the police. Of course,” Frank acquiesced, a weary bite to his voice. He didn’t expect to laugh but he did, a short sharp exhalation followed that gave birth to a lingering smile that looked more tired than mirthful. In the security of the pub and the ignorance of its patrons, the adrenaline from their fight was beginning to drain out of him, giving way to the fatigue that perpetually weighed his bones, and Frank didn’t have the energy to demand the truth out of the man. He didn’t particularly want to. Perhaps his shift would have gone more peacefully had he not gone out for his smoke break when he did, had he remained oblivious to the remains of the monster that now occupied the dumpster that lined up the wall of the bar, point was, perhaps it was better if he didn’t know anymore than he did. In any case, it wasn’t as if the Frenchman was the only one with secrets to guard. “Look, I don’t care what the fuck you are, you saved our asses back there so thanks. But you have got to get better at your own bullshit man...and maybe don’t talk so much.” Frank peeled himself off the door, and started toward the bar, picking up a towel and throwing it over his shoulder; he was still technically on the clock. He turned back to his companion, his voice softened by the smile that had a little more good-humour in it than the last, “come on French guy, I’ll pour you a beer.”

#wickedswriting #writing #chatzy #frankmulloy #frank #mime your manners

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psycho-slytherin · 6 years

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Strangers ch. 11

When you fall ill, your cute coworker helps you. Plus, Yoongi reaches out in the only way he can.

Pairing: Yoongi x (female) Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: Fluffy floof

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

“Y/n! Y/n, for fuck’s sake– slow down!”

You screech to a halt, a meter from the door. The pain in your cut-up feet feels irrelevant compared to your constricted chest, and the whirling thoughts striking your vulnerable mind were jumping from conclusion to conclusion and giving you no room to breathe... your headache isn’t helping either.

He used me he used me he used me–

That was my poem–

Why didn’t he ask?

Why wouldn’t he apologize?

Why did he use me?

You turn to stare at Yoongi, and you haven’t the faintest idea why it hurts so much. To think that the lines in their new song– lines that he claimed credit for– were stolen practically word-for-word from the poem you recited for them...

It hurts and you don’t know why.

“Y/n,” Yoongi says, approaching you cautiously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

You whip around. “You didn’t think?” you hiss, stalking towards him. “When didn’t you think, Min Yoongi? When you were writing the lyrics? During recording? Through production?” you don’t know if you’re more furious or saddened. “When, in the month since you heard my oh-so-humble quatrain, did you think that maybe you should ask for permission?”

“We stopped talking,” Yoongi says. “I didn’t figure I’d see you again. I didn’t figure–”

“That I’d care?” you feel tears well up and force them to retreat; you won’t cry about Min Yoongi. Not now, not ever. “I didn’t write that poem for your fangirls, Yoongi. I wrote it for you.”

Yes, that was it: by making the lines less personal, he cheapened them, made them worthless. You were writing about your midnight rendezvous by the lamppost, and he turned them into– what, some mindless bop?

“I’m sorry, okay?” Yoongi says loudly. “What do you want me to do, name you as a producer? Scrap the whole damn thing?”

You rub your temples to quell your pounding head; it’s hurting so bad that it’s hard to see straight. In fact, the whole world is tilting sideways– or is it just you?

“Y/n!” And it’s Yoongi’s voice, but it’s muffled, as though he’s speaking underwater, and black spots cloud your vision... a lot of black spots, and–

“Unhf,” you squint at the sudden bright light, smacking your lips a few times. Your mouth feels so dry, and your feet feel like you’ve been dancing on razor blades, and your head...

“Y/n? Thank goodness you’re awake!” Lisa’s voice floats above you, and you feel a hand squeeze yours. “How are you feeling?”

“Hot. And cold.” you sneeze. “Everything hurts.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” she says. “You’ve got a fever, and there are some cuts on your feet that– I don’t know how this happened– got infected, and the doctor says you’re fatigued. Basically,” Lisa summarizes, “everything that could go wrong did.”

You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows. “How did you know I was hurt?”

“Some lady named Irene called me, since I’m your emergency contact,” Lisa says, holding up your phone. “She said you’d been brought to the hospital. The doctor said you’ll be good as new in a few days.”

“Ugh.” you flop back on the pillow, feeling like absolute death. And where’s Yoongi gone? Not that it matters, you remind yourself furiously. Stealing your lines without permission... better a liar than a thief, you decide with a sneeze.

The thing is, you’d be ecstatic if he’d asked. But he’d just assumed that you’d be okay with him taking credit for your personal effort, and it makes your heart ache.

A knock at the door, and it swings open to reveal Xiumin.

“Hey,” he holds up a box bearing the mark of the cafe. “I brought pastries. How are you feeling?”

You smile at your coworker’s thoughtfulness. “I’m doing okay, thanks.”

“I’m gonna talk to the doctor,” Lisa says, standing. “I called your mom, but she’s on a business trip in America–”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I don’t want to bother her,” you tell your friend as she leaves the room, and you’re left alone with Xiumin.

“So...” he says. “Any idea why I found a soaked dress in the corner of the storage room when I opened up the cafe this morning?”

You cough. “It’s a long story.”

“And the bloody footprints?”

“That’s an even longer story.”

Xiumin shrugs. “So long as you didn’t murder anyone. I cleaned up, don’t worry, and the manager won’t know anything.”

“Ah, you’re the best,” you rasp, accepting the muffin he hands you. When his finger brushes yours, he knits his brows.

“Your hand is so warm, y/n,” he says, and presses a palm to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Don’t touch me, I might be contagious,” you warn him, sneezing again.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says before leaving the room and returning with a wet towel, using it to wipe your flushed face.

You sigh contentedly; Xiumin’s hands are gentle, and the cool cloth is refreshing against your fevered skin.

“You didn’t have to come,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

“Ah, morning shifts on the weekends are always slow without you there,” Xiumin replies cheerfully. “Besides, once Lisa told me you couldn’t make it because you were in the hospital, I figured you might need a pick-me-up.”

You take a bite into the muffin he’d given you; the familiar taste is comforting, although it does nothing to sooth your sore throat. Seriously, did everything have to go wrong? You feel like you’re a robot, and you’ve broken down.

He used me.

You wince at the thought, and your heart and mind are suddenly at odds: part of you is grateful for Xiumin’s presence, but another part wishes that it was a different man that had walked through the door. Although, of course Yoongi wouldn’t be seen here: a hospital is so public, and a celebrity of his caliber couldn’t make it through the front door without being swarmed.

That’s what made your night meetings special. There were no cameras trained on that tiny street, which was always deserted by midnight. Yoongi must’ve felt it too, right? That freedom to walk and chat freely under the stars, where the only noise came from your heart hammering in your chest– you relished in it. You had so much fun with Yoongi, even with the liar’s guilt weighing you down.

And you could tell that Yoongi also enjoyed your company. No matter how many lies you had to tell, you wanted to be there for him.

“Y/n?”

The summons frees you from your thoughts. “Hm?”

Lisa stands in the doorway, holding a small box and a card. “Someone left this for you.”

Xiumin takes Lisa’s appearance as his cue. “I’ll be off. Feel better, y/n.” he smiles warmly. “Can’t wait to see you back at the cafe.”

“Bye, Xiumin,” you reply, before a coughing fit overtakes you. When you look up again with watering eyes, the card and box are on your lap and Lisa’s smirking at you.

“So, Xiumin?”

“What about him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Are you actually blind? The boy’s so into you.”

“We’re coworkers, he was just being nice,” you say.

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, girlfriend.” She motions to the box. “Gonna open it?”

You sigh, carefully opening the box and emptying its contents into your palm. A chain falls out and pools in your hand, attached to a heavy glass bead the size of quarter, painted with a familiar-looking scene. You’ve been to your fair share of museums, so of course you’d know the replicated painting anywhere: Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

Your breath catches. It’s a simple necklace, surely inexpensive, but the swirling colors and dotted stars– that light in the darkness feels so familiar.

You rip open the envelope to reveal a plain white card, upon which you see three words written in a familiar scrawl:

I’m sorry.

-Agust

“Who’s Agust?” Lisa asks, leaning over to peer at the card. “Girl, like Agust D? I was listening to Tony Montana, you know, the version with Jimin in it? Ugh, Jimin is so beautiful that I literally cannot. I think I would, like, actually give both my kidneys to meet him. Or like, any of BTS. And I wouldn’t have to meet them, just be within like, ten meters? I might actually die if I ever got that close to them. They’re just the most amazing people that have ever existed, I swear.”

Lisa sighs wistfully to conclude her monologue before turning her attention back to you. “So, who’s Agust?”

“Er– just a classmate,” you lie. Again. You adore Lisa, but she’s more of a fangirl than you’ll ever be. You’re worried that if she ever finds out you’re personal friends with Yoongi and the others, she really would have a heart attack... or twelve.

Are you and Yoongi still friends? You look at the necklace, the glass cool against your palm.

You’re not ready to forgive him yet, you decide as you fasten the thin chain around your neck. But this is certainly a good place to start.

You spend the next several days resting and recovering from your cold. The cuts on your feet heal well and soon enough you can hold an entire conversation without a single coughing fit.

But the hospital... you’re not looking forward to receiving the bill for your day and a half stay. Even with all the extra shifts you were taking, and the check for your work on the music video, you figure that you’ll be living off of cheap ramen for at least a month.

Xiumin’s been amazing, you realize as you ready yourself for your first shift at the cafe since before the music video. He’s visited every day, usually with muffins, and you’re certain that his kindness has helped you recover.

Although, you admit to yourself, you’re seeing Lisa’s point. Xiumin definitely seems interested in you. But perhaps that’s a good thing? His attention may help distract you from your completely nonexistent non-feelings for a certain rapper.

You get in just as Xiumin’s hanging up his apron. “Hi, y/n! How are you feeling?”

“Good, thanks,” you reply with a smile.

“Cool, cool.” Xiumin pauses for a second, fidgeting. “Hey, I was wondering... would you want to go out sometime? With me?”

“Sure,” you say readily. What harm was there in a date?

“What? Really?” A grin spreads across Xiumin’s face.

“Did you think I’d say no?” you tease.

“I mean... lately you’ve been acting like... and your ring...”

You roll your eyes. Has everyone in the country noticed your stupid, fake engagement ring? Why did one tiny piece of jewelry carry so much weight?

"I’m very single,” you assure him.

“Can’t say I’m not relieved,” Xiumin says. “So... are you free Saturday? I’d say that we can get coffee, but...” he waves his hands around at the cafe.

You laugh. “Saturday’s fine.”

“I’ll pick you up at three, then?”

“Sounds good.”

He leaves and you’re left alone to handle the late shift. It’s a quiet evening, and the cafe is emptier than usual by the time you close up shop.

You shiver as you make your way home. You know you really should just invest in a car, but you can’t help feeling drawn to the cool night air, the puffs of vapor escaping you with every breath. The world feels more beautiful, awash as it is in darkness.

You turn onto the street and blink a few times: your lamppost isn’t lit. Has the bulb gone out?

You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight before sighing tiredly. You were in classes all day before rushing straight to work, and your phone is completely dead. You begin walking again, albeit much slower to avoid tripping in the total darkness.

By your estimate, you’re just nearing your lamppost when you bump into something solid. Huh? Did you miscalculate and run right into the lamppost?

No, wait. Lampposts don’t wear jackets. Or have arms, shoulders...

“Woah!” you jump backwards, cursing your own stupidity. “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“Hey, breathe! It’s me,” a familiar voice floats through the darkness and you feel a strong hand on your shoulder.

“Y-Yoongi?” You open your eyes wide to catch his silhouette. “Sorry, I can’t see you.”

“Yeah, that was sort of my doing,” Yoongi says quietly.

“What? Wait, you put the streetlight out?” A thousand questions are whirling about in your head, but you hold your tongue, waiting for him to speak.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Yoongi says, “and you seem more open when you can’t see me.”

“I–”

“In the car, when the divider was up,” Yoongi says quickly, as if desperate to prove his point. “And last week, in the cafe. You feel safer in the dark, don’t you?”

You open and close your mouth like a fish. “H-how...” he couldn’t be more right. Since childhood, you’ve loved dark spaces. Your mother called you catlike; Lisa said you had opposite-claustrophobia. How could you feel anything less than at home, swaddled by a natural blanket of darkness? But still... “How did you know?”

There’s a pause, and you reach out blindly to grasp his sleeve, to have some sort of physical proof that he’s really there.

“I’m the same way,” he whispers, and in the silence his words seem to echo. “I’m good at darkness. I’m good at sleep. And while I love the guys, I’m good at being alone.” you feel his sleeve rise and lower in what must be a shrug.

“I was twenty when we debuted,” he continues. “Before then I was a trainee, and I worked, and school... I never got a chance to make friends outside of a dog-eat-dog world. So, around you... I don’t know how to act, y/n, because I’m so scared of losing you.”

“Just be yourself,” you tell him, your voice near breaking. “Be Min Yoongi, the man that I–” Stop. What are you doing? The darkness is doing it again, lending you confidence.

You swallow. “The man that I... became friends with. Be him.”

Yoongi chuckles humorlessly. “Being myself... every day, that feels a bit harder. Oh!” he seizes your hands, damn near giving you a heart attack. “Did you get the necklace?”

Wordlessly you guide his hand towards you, so that he can feel the glass bead nestled against the hollow of your throat. Improper, perhaps. But it got your message across.

Yoongi sighs with relief. “Thank goodness. I screwed up. I really screwed up, and I’m beyond sorry. So, late as it may be...” he takes a deep breath, and you can hear a smile in his words. “Y/n... may I please have your permission to use and modify the quatrain you recited?”

You sigh dramatically, drawing it out for a good fifteen seconds. “I mean, I guess... You owe me though,” you add, blindly reaching for and then poking his arm.

“Well, it just so happens that since the music video is done filming, we get a few days off,” Yoongi says, grasping your hand where you poked his arm. “So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? We can chill at the apartment, maybe watch a movie. Definitely eat snacks. I dunno which of the guys will be there, but it’ll be fun.”

He pauses, and when he speaks again the words are laden with hope. “So, what do you say?”

“Sounds fun,” you tell him, although your mind is racing. It’s not a date it’s not a date it’s not a date.

“Great. Does Saturday work for you? We’ve got a tiny bit of publicity to do in the morning, so how about three o’clock?”

“Sure.” It’s not a date it’s not a date it’s not a date.

“Good.” You hear Yoongi’s feet shuffle from side. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you blurt out. "I’m glad you came to talk. Wait,” you cock your head, although he can’t see it. “How did you know I’d be working tonight?”

Yoongi laughs, embarrassed. “Well... I knew you’d start soon. I’ve actually been waiting here every night, these last few days.”

Your jaw drops. “Yoongi, you need sleep!”

“I could say the same to you. Hey, our ride’s here,” Yoongi announces, gesturing at the black car that pulls up out of nowhere– again.

You shake your head as you slide into the backseat. “You’re such a dork.”

“Whatever you say, y/n.”

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faiteach · 7 years

Text

A Wild Love Interest Has Appeared

[I can almost guarantee that everything I’m about to speculate on is nothing more than a sparkling conspiracy dreamt up in the loneliest spaces of my mind.]

Have you ever met someone and the timing just feels like Fate? And of course, that rational half of your brain starts firing the klaxons to warn you not to fall too far into the Fantasy because when has anything that felt like Fate ever turned out the way you expected?

While I was on vacation in April, my coworkers hired someone new. His initials are the same as another person I write about, so I’m going to call him Aegis. He’s 5 years my junior, tall, dominican, rocks the bald look, fit, warm dark eyes, and a megawatt smile. In fact, he’s so attractive that I’m not even nervous around him because it’s so undeniably obvious that he’s out of my league. I have no reason to worry, there’s no possible way he could find me attractive so I don’t have to try. Plus, we work together. When they first hired AG (tall, also bald, blue eyes, average white guy but sweet and intelligent [later turned out he’s an unsympathetic, judgmental dick when it comes to mental illness booo]) I developed an unfortunate crush which, in the process of seeking absolution for my guilt about feeling that way, I confessed to my boss and my coworker JA during a night when we were drunk. JA, being practical and also having zero faith in my ability to handle romance, dissuaded me from pursuing anything so close to home. “Don’t shit where you sit”, the old adage goes. I never intended to pursue it. I just felt bad about it. She helped me feel so bad about it, that I definitely let it go.

And then along comes Aegis.

Well, you can bet I felt JA’s eyes on me during those first few days. Watching like a bitter old crone to ensure there was no whiff of hanky-panky between me and the new guy. She needn’t have worried. Certainly I found him attractive, but the fires of infatuation remained dormant. My expectations were clear and reasonable. He was my new, objectively handsome but virtually unknown, coworker.

About 4 weeks go by. We’ve all bonded a bit during office hours by now. We joke around as a group, we drink a bit on Fridays, we all smoke weed (except BVK) so we bond over shows we like to watch while we’re high. One Wednesday night, JA and I are supposed to attend an event for a separate organization we’re both part of. I meet up with her, our boss and Aegis at a bar after they wrap up a client photoshoot. I knew right then that JA and I were not going to make it to the event. I was dressed to the 9′s in high heels, hair perfectly curled, makeup perfectly done. Aegis moves from his place at one end of the table to sit beside me on the other end. He gets me a beer. While the boss & JA chat with their videographer, Aegis and I talk relatively alone for the first time.

You ever have a conversation with somebody that flows so easy you forget that time is even a thing?

It’s like we were teammates, partners, comrades, I can’t describe it but it’s a chemistry I almost never feel. Synergy. Talking to him was, and is, so easy. Every time I made him laugh he seemed delighted and surprised. At one point, in response to something I said, he held my arm and put his head on my shoulder. For that brief moment, I was frozen in place. JA was watching, most likely she saw the look that flickered across my face. I wonder if it looked more like shock, or fear?

That Friday, Aegis and I end up alone together at the end of the day. We’d already opened some beers for Beer Friday (the weekly thing we do as an office), so we were just hanging out, presumably until we each finished. I mentioned wanting to walk Jamie in dog parks closer to work and, since he’s native to the area, he mentions a place he knows about that he’d be willing to take me to. I ask him (expecting a “no”) if he wants to go right then. To my surprise he says sure. We stop by his house to grab some weed, drive over to the park and smoke before heading out down the path. I figured it would be a short walk, but we end up a little lost in the woods for a while. We hardly notice because we’re talking, getting to know each other the whole time. I’m surprised and confused that we never seem to run out of things to say.

The following Wednesday is just me, Aegis and BVK in the office. We end up staying late watching The Thirteenth Amendment on Netflix and having a very thoughtful discussion about race in America. When our boss and JA return from the meetings of the day, JA & BVK head home but our boss stays behind with his wife to jump into the discussion with us. The boss’s wife is already drunk and ends up going into a confusing drunk rant about JFK conspiracies. At a certain point, I make an effort to wrangle the conversation and demand a moment of uninterrupted speech to make my point. When she inevitably interrupts me, I don’t even think about shushing her with a finger. I’m so assertive about it, she stops talking immediately. (You should understand that our boss’s wife is a terrifying, but very cool woman. She’s in her 20s too, but very confident and aggressive, so me shushing her surprised everyone). This was also the day my dad disappeared for several hours so I ended up leaving shortly after to deal with that.

This past Thursday, myself, our boss, JA and Aegis attended a very classy corporate event for a client where the Governor would be speaking. I’ve been sick and had considered not going but then I realized Aegis would be by himself in a new environment with our boss and JA who can be a little cliquey. When I got there, he greeted me with a relieved “Heyyy you!”

We had time for a drink and a stroll through the outdoor patio before they started seating everyone for dinner. I mentioned that I may or may not have an entire box of tissues in my purse (on account of my lingering cold) and Aegis was reduced to giggles saying “You say the most random things Jess, its one of the things I love about you.” Color me shocked, of course. No one ever says such things to me. I took it as a general expression from someone who is open with his feelings but logged it away later, so that I could obsess over the slight hesitation in his voice before he said love--as if he was afraid I would take it too seriously, or because he was afraid I would realize he meant it? HAHA. Yes.

Our boss and JA decided to go out for a cigarette and left me and Aegis to wait for them.

“You thought I was kidding,” I said, slyly producing a full kleenex box from my huge purse.

He practically fell down laughing, saying “Oh man, see I need more people like you in my life.”

I probed for more detail---what did he mean? He tried to explain how his current friends lacked spontaneity and humor. Then he said something that, and I wish I could remember the words, sounded like “I try but they always say no,” or something similar. To which I replied,

“Ah yes, I hear that often as well, especially at the end of the date.”

He laughed, then turned to me with a sudden dubious expression and said, “Really??”

“Well no, but only because I’m so persuasive,” I said jokingly, tossing my hair.

We eventually got to dinner, and sat through the speech. At the end, we went as a group to get a drink at the bar. Our boss and JA had to leave---he was helping her build a website for her wedding this October, so once again, Aegis and I were left alone together.

I would normally expect someone in his position to say “Well, that’s it for me too, have a good night and drive safe.”

But he didn’t. He asked me if I wanted to smoke, and I agreed. We went to my car and rolled a blunt. We got incredibly high. I told him the story of how I dated three of my friends in a row because it came up and he asked for more detail. It’s been a long time since I discussed my past with anyone, having finally learned to simply let sleeping dogs lie, but the confession came anyways. He told me about his past as a PCA, and the experience with a patient that drove him to quit. Shit got real deep. I think I fucked it up when I tried to lighten to mood--he seemed embarrassed to cry in front of me, no matter how much I assured him it was ok.

If I did fuck it up he was quick to forgive me, because the conversation returned to more jovial things. He mentioned how much he admires me when I do things like shush our boss’s wife (like, we were laughing about it and he said I’m a badass essentially). He has no concept of me as an insecure person. To him, I’m as confident as they come. He said that I’m very persuasive, almost clairvoyant, that I “see what wants to happen and find a way to make it happen.” I didn’t understand what he meant at first, until I realized he was talking about a part of myself that I had always assumed was a fallacy of my own arrogance---my innate ability to read people and to act according to their needs. I was stunned and pleased by the observation, but I didn’t show it. We ended up talking until 11:30pm. When we said good-bye it was like neither of us really knew how, we hurried away from each other, shouting “BYE” over our shoulders.

Yesterday was another Friday. We were all very tired from the night before. By the end of the day it was just me, Boss and Aegis. I think he felt bad about using my weed to roll the blunt the night before because Aegis brought his own and offered it to me and the Boss after 4pm. Since it was raining, we went up to the abandoned storage room with a door to the roof and stood by the open door to smoke. Boss went over to the far side of the room with his laptop to finish some projects while Aegis and I stood by the doorway and just talked, like we have become accustomed to doing. I forgot Boss was there until he came over an hour or so later and said,

“I’m heading back downstairs, I don’t mind if you guys stay up here and hang out just....ya know.”

When I say Boss was acting weird as he said it, I mean he was acting very weird. You could assume “Just....ya know.” meant “Please remember to close the roof door when you come down” but the weird, snide look on his face said “Use a condom.”

I hated it.

You see, the night I confessed to liking AG, nearly two years ago, JA reacted by dissuading me. Boss reacted by hooking up with me as soon as I was drunk enough. Boss has been the only cock in the hen house for a few years now (AG is still on part-time but doesn’t work in office with us) and if I didn’t know any better I would say he was feeling latent jealousy over the way Aegis and I were bonding so easily.

At this point, I’ve spent more time with the new guy outside of work than anyone else in the office. Not only that, but Aegis has a weird superpower when it comes to me. When I’m around him, I feel comfortable in a way that I don’t feel anywhere else in my life---except maybe when I’m completely alone. For some reason, around him I always know what to do and I always know what to say. The other day I tripped in front of him, fell to the floor, barrel-rolled, landed in a super chill pose like I meant to do it all and he couldn’t stop laughing saying, “Wow that was a whole lot of smooth that just came out of that.”

I don’t know how or why exactly, but he always gets the best of me.

We ended up going downstairs with Boss and heading home immediately after that. I didn’t wait to say goodbye to Aegis, I ran to the bathroom to blow my nose cause I was dying (I think I have a sinus infection) but Boss relayed his goodbye with a smirk on his face. I worry now that he and JA will be whispering to each other soon “Hm they have been spending an awful lot of time together, what do you think?”

I have made no assumptions abut romance. I still believe Aegis is out of my league and that he’s self-aware enough to know it. But, from what he’s told me, it sounds like he’s in a similar situation to me. Gradually losing touch with old friends, growing apart from past relationships and finding yourself alone in your childhood home with no one left to turn to in any meaningful way. That, in and of itself, is probably why we get along so well. We’re both exhilarated to find someone we can talk to. Someone interesting who cares. Someone who isn’t distracted by hundreds of other, more fulfilling relationships.

It really would be too complicated to date someone in an office so small. I have no intention of pursuing anything of the kind. But I had to reflect and record what I think has been a very special meeting of two souls who maybe needed each other, just a little bit. Mostly what I take from all of this is that, I really like who I am when I’m with Aegis. He really does bring out the best in me. His thoughtfulness and kindness revitalizes my faith in humanity and somehow enables me to be my wittiest, most confident, most relaxed self. If I get nothing else from this experience, it will be to ability to recognize the traits that I like about me and to cultivate them with lasting consistency.

#journal #reflections on romance pt 2

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