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starkstruck27 · 11 months

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I graduated tonight, so here's a tidbit for you in celebration!! 🎓💚

It's Billy's graduation day, and he can feel daggers being stared into him from all sides. He was named Valedictorian (he has no clue how he achieved that), so Nancy Wheeler is glaring from across the stage in the chair reserved for the Saluditorian. His dad was off somewhere in the stands glaring at him, and he was actually surprised he came to see him walk the stage at all. All the kids he beat up or messed with, even if he apologized, were glaring, pissed off that they had to follow his every move to know when to stand and sit on his command. All in all, it seemed like everyone there hated him.

But there was two people that were there rooting for him, even if no one else was. He could still see them, smiling and shouting his name and waving around these embarrassing homemade signs they made to make sure he'd see them. Max was wearing a homemade shirt with a picture of his face printed on it, and it was the least flattering picture ever, from his freshman year where he was mid-sneeze when the flash went off, but he couldn't help but smile when he saw it. Steve was standing next to her and screaming loudly, unashamed of anyone watching him. He had a shirt that said "I ❤ BH", like those stupid tourist t-shirts from New York, only with his initials instead. He was waving around a giant shark plushie that had a little graduation cap sewn on it, the stitching job no doubt having been done by either Joyce Byers or Claudia Henderson.

He didn't know it yet, but both ladies were also in the audience, along with Will, El, Hopper, Dustin, and Lucas, all there to cheer on Billy and Jonathan as they both walked the stage. Mike was sitting somewhere else with his parents and little sister to cheer on Nancy, but his mother eventually let him go off with his friends once Nancy finished giving her speech.

She was the first one to do it, getting the honor of speaking first, followed by the class president and the class historian. Billy was the last one to give his speech, and as the historian sat down, his heart began to race a little as he walked up to the podium. He had his speech written on a few note cards, but he'd been sleep deprived from finals and entirely too nervous when he wrote them, so they were near incomprehensible. So he didn't even bother to get them out, deciding instead to just wing it. He'd bullshitted his way through it anyway. And nothing could be worse than the class president's speech, which the poor kid had stuttered through and barely spoke into the mic at all, so he was impossible to hear. At least Billy would be able to be heard if his speech was awful.

"Friends, family, teachers, staff and guests," he started, trying to keep his tassel out of his face, "You're probably all thinking that I'm feeling so honored to be standing here as the vedictorian of the class of 1986. I know that you probably think that this is the highlight of my high school career. Hell, our saluditorian would probably kill to be standing where I am right now."

At this, a little laughter bubbled up from the crowd, and Billy allowed himself a second to enjoy the way Nancy's face went bright red before he continued.

"But you'd all be wrong. True, I did get here halfway through my junior year and still managed to build myself up to this point with little to no support, but that’s precisely the reason I don't feel honored to be making this speech right now. It's not that I think I don't deserve it, because I do. I've worked myself half to death to get here right now, to prove to myself that I was not a complete failure and that I was good for something. So I took the hard classes, I turned in all the work, and I did the best I could to put myself where I'm standing right now. But I'm still not honored to be here, because I didn't do it for recognition. I didn't do it for praise or to prove that I'm the best or anything shallow like that. I also didn't do it out of love for school or my classes. I did it out of survival. I did it because if I didn't, I might not be accepting a diploma at all today. I did it because I had no other choice."

As Billy continued speaking, a confused murmur went through the crowd. The audience was wondering where he was going with all this, and the rest of his classmates and the staff were all wondering what happened to the other speech they'd had to listen to him reciting for the past two days at practice. All in all, everyone seemed lost, but Billy didn't care. He took a second as they recollected themselves to look up and see if his dad was still in his spot on the stands. He wasn't, so Billy kept going.

"Most of you here know that I'm not a perfect person. I'm a dick, really. If someone gets in my way, I have no qualms about punching them in the nose or making them cry as they run home to their mommies to have them make the boo-boos feel better. I'm not proud of this. It's just a part of who I am and I'm trying to work on changing it. As I'm getting older and getting closer and closer to leaving this town, it's getting easier to do that. But so far it's been a slow process, because I didn't have any reason to change. That's another reason I never quit and threw myself into my studies, because as I get closer to getting out of here, I'm finding more and more reasons to change. For one, my little sister Maxine deserves a brother that she can be proud of, not one that she dreads admitting relation to. For another, as soon as I get my diploma and decide where I'm going to college, I'm gone. Out of this town, out of this state, and especially out of my father's house. Believe it or not, there are actually people worse to others than me, and if you want an example, well, my father is the best one you'd ever find. As soon as I get my diploma, I get to be rid of him forever if I want to be, and that's exactly what I want. And finally, I met somebody. None of you probably want or need to hear about my love life, and I'll spare you the dirty details, but just know that this person is my reason for everything. For living, for working so hard, and for wanting to change. It's for these reasons, and there are probably more if I put my mind to it, I want to change out of the jerk I was and into a person that would be honored to be the best student in their class. It's for these reasons that I'm even here in the first place, why I pushed so hard to make myself survive and earn it. I'm not the best Valedictorian that this school will ever have, I'm far from it. But hopefully, now that you understand why I'm here, you won't think I'm the worst one, either. You'll understand why I'm here, what I had to do to make it happen, and why, even though I'm not feeling honored by being here, I'm more proud of myself than I ever have been in my life."

Billy had been nervous about giving a speech he didn't practice, but so far he seemed to be fine. He could see Steve on the verge of tears off to the side of him, and it made him remember that even if he was a total flop and didn't make any sense, at least a few people would be proud of him. So he decided to finish strong.

"And to my classmates, the graduating seniors of 1986, I want to say this: I didn't get here on my own. I had help, from a lot of you. I'd like to address some people who really helped on my journey here at Hawkins High, short as it may have been, and helped either directly or indirectly in my success. Heather Holloway, you've taught me to be confident and given me your friendship, which is an invaluable gift that I truly treasure every day. I love you, forever and always you'll be my best friend. Robin Buckley, you've shown me that it doesn't matter who I am or what I'm like, that there will always be people like me in the world and that if I find those people, I don't have to be afraid of what they'll bring out in me. Eddie Munson, you've taught me to be confident in all things, that it doesn't matter if the world is watching, as long as I believe in what I'm saying and doing that someday, I'll make it through and make it out, even if it takes a few tries. Chrissy Cunningham, you taught me to be sweet and kind. Jonathan Byers, you taught me that sometimes I need to see life through the lens of someone else's camera. Nancy Wheeler, you've taught me that you don't have to like a person to be proud of their accomplishments. And finally, Steve Harrington, even though you're already graduated, you know why I'm thanking you, and you know what you taught me. As we move forward throughout our lives, myself and the rest of the class of '86, I implore all of you to take these lessons with you and actually practice them. You'll be successful in whatever you choose to do with your time if you do so. Learn from these people, you don't have to like them, but learn from them. And if you do, I promise you, you'll beat the odds that are seemingly stacked against you."

After Billy finished his speech, he went back to his seat and sat down, waiting for whoever was speaking next to say whatever they needed to. He wasn't paying attention, rather looking over to Steve and Max again, who were both crying and clapping for him.

When the principal finally stood up and read out the names of all the seniors and handed them their diplomas, Billy stood up to receive his first. A shy smile on his face as he listened.

"William Felix Hargrove, class of 1986 Valedictorian," the principal read out like a robot, already tired of having to read out the names of the 236 graduating seniors after the first one. Billy stood and walked over to him, taking his diploma and shaking the man's hand as he smiled for a picture. He was sure he'd have to fake smile when he was told ther would be a photographer there, but because of the screams and shrieks he could hear coming from Steve and Max's direction, he found he didn't have to fake it. As he turned to walk back to his seat he saw them still crying and cheering, making such a scene that Billy was almost afraid the audience wouldn't hear it when Nancy's name was called, but then they quieted down.

They stayed quiet through the rest of the ceremony, except when they needed to make noise, and as soon as Billy was allowed to go and find them, they were on the field with him, both wrapping him in the tightest hugs they could manage. Max was practically squeezing the air out of him, sobbing into his graduation gown that she was already proud of him and she always would be, drawing a few tears from his eyes in the process as he muttered a "thanks, shitbird" into her hair. Steve had let them have their moment, having gone off to talk to Robin and to give her her present and a hug, but now he was walking back over, holding out the shark plushie and smiling from ear to ear.

"I got you this," he said as Billy took the animal, his own grin creeping onto his face. "I figured flowers would just die and you could eat chocolates. I wanted to get you something that would last."

"Thanks, pretty boy. I love her." He said, his face heating up as Max went to talk to her friends and Steve began to back them up until they were hidden from sight behind the bleachers.

"I'm really fucking proud of you, you know that?" He asked as they walked, keeping an eye out to make sure no one was looking as they slipped away. "And I was so surprised when you mentioned me in your speech. You didn't plan that thing at all, did you?"

"Was it that obvious?" Billy asked, but he laughed.

"No, but I just know you. You only get that look on your face when you're determined to do something completely on the fly. It was still fantastic though." Steve replied, finally finding them a quiet, dim little nook to hide away in.

"Thank you. For everything, and I really mean that, Stevie. I wouldn't have made it without you. You're everything to me, you're the main reason I did all that stuff like I said in the speech." Billy said, his voice weighed down with emotion. Steve could hear it, too, and his smile only grew wider as he leaned in real close.

"You saying you love me, Hargrove?" He asked, and the question honestly surprised Billy. Neither of them had ever said it before, even if they had felt it, so it just seemed too casual. But Billy had meant the things he'd said in his speech, about confidence and being himself and all that, and he wasn't giving up on those lessons now. He lunged forward and kissed Steve with all his might, wanting to tell him not only with words, but actions too.

"Yeah, I am. I love you, Steve." He said as they parted, his heart racing as he went in for another searing kiss. He really did mean it when he said it, too. He loved Steve, and he always would.

When this kiss was broken, it was like everything and nothing had changed. Billy was still afraid to hold Steve's hand once they left the cover of the bleachers, but until they stepped back out into the setting sun, he did it. He let Steve adjust his cap and gown before they went out to take pictures, and he let him insist on as many as he wanted to commemorate the occasion. They still couldn't do much in terms of physical contact, but every brush of fingers or press of a side that managed to take place as they snapped picture after picture was like a tiny little press of sunshine to their skin. It was different, but that was okay by them.

"Oh, and by the way," Steve asked as Joyce geared up to snap the next shot, "Since when is your middle name Felix?" And when the flash went off, all you could see what Steve looking puzzled as Billy cracked up laughing.

#billys middle name is felix and i wil not be told otherwise #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy hargrove x steve harrington #ficlet #graduation #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #heather holloway #chrissy cunningham #jonathan byers

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andromedasummer · 1 year

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hey uh what's gallipoli i feel fear already

gallipoli is the short term referring to the gallipoli campaign during ww1. it was a plan by the british to send largely australian and new zealand soldiers (like nearly our entire army was sent there) to invade turkey. the plan was to land at gallipoli peninsula, (a beach surrounded by sheer high cliffs), climb the cliffs, take up defense in the village on the cliffs and face the turkish army there.

they never made it up the beach. the plan was leaked months before and when the ships dropped off the soldiers, they found the turkish army had settled themselves at the top of the cliffs and were firing down onto them before they could even get out of the boats. it was an absolute slaughter. thousands and thousands died trying to get onto the beach. when they managed to dig in and set up defenses, a large chunk of the army had already been killed. but the british refused to admit failure or defeat and instead they had the soldiers hold off there for a year and one month. slowly gaining land as they climbed up, dying from illness in the trenches or during turkish shelling. ships would send in more soldiers, who were almost always newly trained and only 17-20. they'd transport the injured to an island called lemnos, where they were treated by ANZAC (Australian and NZ soldiers) nurses. the dead couldnt be buried and many had to be left to rot, some in the trenches with the living soldiers, and the intense heat made it worse. my great great grandfather on my fathers side was the last man to be evacuated from the island when the campaign was deemed a failure. he left by submarine because any other travel was too dangerous, he witnessed hundreds die on that island.

The Gallipoli exhibit is brutal, because Gallipoli was brutal. It has giant lifelike statues depicting the mens lives in the trenches, getting gangrene from wounds or witnessing their friends getting shot, unable to sleep because of the constant firing upon them. Theyre all based on real people as well, who died or survived. One is of a famous New Zealander nurse who, in the middle of a shipment of dying soldiers, received a letter informing her that her brother and father had been killed. there was nothing she could do but accept the information and put the letter back in her pocket and go back to treating the wounded. One particular statue that our casual allowed the 6 year olds to see was of a hyperrealistic man in a hospital bed with a severed arm, dying of blood loss. Everything but the horrors of war are in complete darkness, with the statues all lit up to show glistening sweat and blood and tears in a gruesome display. theres lots of information about individuals and conditions the campaign and a timeline of the events on the walls. You go from giant illuminated statue to statue to statue, all the while speakers throughout are playing gunshots, shouting and people dying.

In short the campaign was a complete failure. Thousands died, including some of my family members and honestly probably family members of most New Zealanders. Those that survived were some of the most traumatized soldiers to return to New Zealand (aside from the few who lived through Monte Casino, which my great grandfather on my mothers side had visceral trauma from). Gallipoli is THE event we remember every ANZAC day, its where we lost most of our soldiers.

kids here do learn about it from ages 6-9, but not like that. Its a teacher gently explaining these concepts, not a 4D exhibition intended to show adults the full horrors of war. I cannot believe the casual worker took the kids in there. genuinely its insane to me how she thought that would end up okay.

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moonbeamsung · 3 years

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Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 4 years

Text

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 11 - AO3

D-Day.

M. Devereux, the history professor, was handing back their projects, finally graded. Felix, of course, knew that his and Marinette’s deserved nothing less than a perfect score.

What grades other people got… well, that was their own business. If they decided to share that information with the class, then he’d take pleasure in it.

He and Marinette received their own before certain other people. He flipped open the professional black binder to reveal their perfect score on the cover page. Marinette’s smile was blinding and Felix found it hard to breath for a second as a soft smile that only existed around his mother began to form on his lips.

“What!?” A screech flung from the front of the class. His smile morphed into a smirk as Rossi stared at M. Devereux with horrified eyes. “How did we get a failure!?”

“If you have any questions about your results, I will address them after class, Mlle. Rossi.”

“B-But we used Lila’s notes!” Cesaire replied unable to stop a glance at those in the back. In her hands, clear for everyone to see, was the rose-imbedded binder Felix had ‘lost’ the week previous. “It should have been perfect!”

“After class.”

Rossi shot a glare at them—pathetic, she thought she still had a chance—and burst into a symphony of fake tears. “I-I knew I shouldn’t have let Marinette look at our project! She probably swapped the contents of our binder when I wasn’t looking!”

The class turned back to look at them, but M. Devereux would have no accusations of plagiarism in his class. “While it is possible someone could have switched your assignment, it is because both you and Mlle. Cesaire’s names were only on the title page of your assignment. M. Graham de Vanily and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s names were on each page in the header, as the formatting instructions required.” His eyes narrowed. “Please refrain from shouting in my classroom.”

“T-Then!” Rossi’s voice cracked unpleasantly, “They must have re-typed the assignment!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “That’s too much work.”

Marinette nodded, then frowned. “Hey… isn’t that the binder you lost last week?” She asked, her voice the perfect picture of innocence, drawing the class’s attention to the rather memorable piece of leather. “The one you reported to lost and found but never heard back from?”

“Yes, I think it is. Why do you both have it?”

Rossi snatched the binder from Cesaire’s arms, clutching it to her chest. “No it’s not! It must be a different one!”

One of the other classmates spoke up—a blond one, the Princess Fragrance girl. “But it has the same rose on it!” By holding it against her chest, Rossi revealed the memorable rose backing to the world. “I remember it because I thought it was so pretty!”

“Y-Yeah, that’s why I bought one just like it!” Rossi’s smile was flawless.

Felix cocked an eyebrow. “You bought a hundred-euro binder that looks exactly like the one that went missing?” Some strain. He shrugged. “Sure, I’ll buy it… if you can provide the receipt.”

“Huh?”

“The receipt, Rossi.” Felix dug around in his back for his receipt pouch and pulled out the one for the binder; it was ready at the front just for this purpose. “I have my own, for my binder. Provide yours, and I won’t report you for stealing.”

“I bought it online,” came the swift lie.

“Then show proof of purchase on your phone,” Marinette quickly rebutted.

“Not that she can,” Felix added. “Since this store doesn’t sell it’s more expensive items online, only in person.” He grinned, watching as the rusty gears in Rossi’s head began to smoke from the pressure. “So how’d you manage to do that?”

“It’s not from the same store, obviously.”

“So another store just so happened to be carrying the exact same handmade binder?” he snorted. “Just tell us the truth, Rossi; some of us want to go to lunch.”

“I… I…” Her eyes were darting around the room, meeting friendly and unfriendly gazes alike when she suddenly burst into tears. “I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I found the binder in lost and found! It, it was so pretty, and I didn’t know it was yours, Felix! Please forgive me!”

The few hostile classmates seemed to be on the brink of doing so, but before Felix could interject, Marinette said, “So you stole it from lost and found? How is that much better?”

“That’s not the same, Marinette,” Adrien said, narrowing his eyes at her. So he would defend the liar and not his own cousin’s stolen property? How shameful… and utterly expected. “It was just lost and found. If it was important to Felix, he wouldn’t have lost it, would he?”

“I’ve found Markov in lost and found; are you saying that he’s not important?” The Gamer boy’s jaw dropped, before he leveled a glare at Adrien. “And Alix’s skates, and Nathaniel’s sketchbook, and Rose’s perfumes. Are you saying those aren’t important?”

��No!”

“Then why isn’t it important when it’s your cousin’s things?”

“That’s enough!” M. Devereux spoke above her voice. “Students, you are dismissed for lunch. Mlle. Cesaire, Mlle. Rossi, stay. We have something to speak about.” The students hesitated, unsure. “I want this classroom empty now.”

Felix and Marinette escaped in the max exodus, Felix gloating inwardly at the scowl Rossi shot him. It felt good to irritate her. They separated from the class to head towards the bakery.

As soon as they were out of sight, Mariette let out a little giggle. “They didn’t even check it!”

“Shows their average intelligence then, though I wasn’t really expecting them too. I did insinuate that the project was complete, after all. And who proofreads the assignment they stole?” It was a bit tedious, go through their own assignment and altering the dates and names so that only half the timeline was correct, but he considered it well worth the effort.

“So that’s what you two did.” They stopped and turned. Adrien had been following them, a stern scowl on his face. Felix felt Marinette falter at his side. “You deliberately made them fail.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say deliberately.” Felix quickly shielded her with his body. “It was more of a happy accident that they didn’t check. My real plan was to use the binder from the start.” No one buys a binder like that unless they wanted it to be remembered, after all.

“But you still let them turn in a false assignment.”

“That they stole. They didn’t have to steal it. They didn’t have to turn in work that wasn’t theirs. They chose this outcome.” Felix tapped his chin. “Or rather, Rossi chose this.”

“They couldn’t choose anything, they didn’t know anything! Lila was probably just… worried about her grade. If anything, you two should have helped her!”

“If she needed help, she should have met with the teacher. Not steal another person’s assignment. If you must, think of it as a prank. Or karma.”

“It’s not karma when you make other people suffer for her actions!” Adrien snapped. “Now Lila’s probably going to get akumatized again!”

“And how is that our problem? We’re kids, we don’t have to deal with akumas.”

Adrien’s argument seemed to stumble, his eyes growing wide. “C-Chat Noir will have to! I’m just trying to keep down the amount of work the heroes face! Although—” Adrien’s eyes gained a rather cruel glint to them— “You wouldn’t know much about that, would you. In fact, if I remember right, you make their jobs harder.”

Felix failed to hide a wince at the thought of the triple akuma he caused. But before he could return fire, Marinette spoke up from behind him, though her voice was too low to hear.

Adrien frowned. “What was that?”

“I said—” Marinette brushed past Felix, her eyes shining wetly with rage. “That’s a LOW BLOW, Adrien Agreste!!” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Before you leave, I have made a spotify playlist for this fic. You can find it here. Feel free to leave suggestions for the playlist, as it is mostly musical songs at this point (I even surpassed my hatred of Dear Evan Hanson to put a few of those songs on it, so I need suggestions, please). Thank you!

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

#felinette #hey little songbird #lila salt #adrien salt #ml salt #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #felix graham de vanily #adrien agreste #lila rossi #alya cesaire #oc teacher character #mlb #ml fanfic

301 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: 【腾霄】 Xia Yan | Skyflying Date Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist

Video

Translation under cut~

Part 1

Home

After finishing up with work, I returned home, collapsing onto my bed. Suddenly, my phone rang.

MC: Hello, Xia Yan?

Xia Yan: Got home yet?

MC: Just did, what’s up?

Xia Yan: Recently, there’s been an experiential culture variety show called “A Unique Challenge” – have you heard of it?

MC: I have – it’s been pretty popular recently, though I haven’t seen it yet.

MC: I heard that they’ll pick normal and famous people each week to experience cultures of different regions or types.

MC: Cheng Cheng’s idol participated once, experiencing an ancient ceremonial culture and playing some little games.

MC: Although, since when were you into variety shows?

Xia Yan: My friend was one of the picked participants, but he’s got something going on for now and doesn’t want to go there anymore, so he gave it to me…

Xia Yan: That week just happens to be a pairs’ challenge – would you be interested?

MC: What’s the theme?

Xia Yan: It’s trendy culture, and I heard that they prepared a lot of things for this topic. Want to go try?

MC: Sure, let’s go together.

In the few days after, as long as I thought about participating in a show with Xia Yan, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat nervous.

Finally, it was the day of filming.

Clothing Store

MC: Xia Yan, are you not done yet?

Xia Yan: Almost, almost…

MC: You’ve already been in there for ten minutes. Are the clothes hard to put on?

Xia Yan: Ugh, this headband is a little hard to handle.

MC: Then I’ll help you put it on.

Speaking thus, I got up and walked towards the fitting room.

Xia Yan: Ah, no need, no need!

Xia Yan pulled the fitting room’s curtain tightly.

Xia Yan: Uh… I feel like… this outfit doesn’t really suit me, so I should probably change!

Rustling sounds came from inside the fitting room.

MC: Let me see! If you don’t come out, I’m going to lift the curtain!

I faked an act to scare Xia Yan. Sure enough, hearing me say this, the sounds of movement from the fitting room stopped, and the curtain was slowly pulled open.

Xia Yan: Ugh…

MC: …

Back during school, Xia Yan always wore school uniforms, and the clothes he wore now were mostly casualwear. Speaking of which, this was my first time seeing him wear hip-hop style clothing. The bright symbols didn’t feel over-the-top; instead, it added a free, confident youthful vibe for him.

Xia Yan: This outfit… is it… too gaudy?

MC: …

Xia Yan: You’re not even talking… looks like it really does look bad. I should go change it.

MC: Don’t change it! It looks great, of course it looks great!

Seeing Xia Yan walk towards the fitting room, I grabbed onto him.

Xia Yan: For real?

MC: Of course – you look super cool!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: Wait, why haven’t you changed yet?

Xia Yan: Do you think the clothes I picked for you look bad?

MC: How could that be? I’ll go change now, wait for me!

Xia Yan: Go ahead – after changing, we’ll officially start the challenge.

In fact, Xia Yan and I were already in the middle of filming. We were changing clothes at this store due to the show’s requirements.

[Flashback]

Filming Studio

Host: The theme this time is trendy culture. The topics that can be drawn are different, and the contents of the challenge are also different.

Host: Next, could the guests please come onstage to draw topics?

I followed everyone towards the stage and drew an envelope out of the box. When I flipped it, I saw a word written in large font on the envelope – skateboard.

MC: (It actually ended up being skateboarding…)

Host: Alright, could everyone now open your envelopes and read the details of the topics?

Hearing the host’s words, I rushed to open the envelope and take out the topic inside.

MC: Search for the mysterious skateboard?

MC: Looks like we have to find various components of the skateboard, then assemble them.

Xia Yan: Let me see…

Xia Yan took the mission card from the envelope, looking it over in detail. According to the instructions on the mission card, the components of the skateboard were scattered in different places on the commerce street, guarded by NPCs. Our mission was to find the NPCs, complete various tests, collect the skateboard components, and assemble them.

Host: The mission locations are at the pedestrian commerce area outside. Please finish them as soon as possible.

Host: The program team will keep track of each team’s time, and rank everyone based on completion time.

Host: If you have not completed it beyond three hours, it’s counted as a failure.

After finishing her explanation of the rules, the host gave a slight smile to everyone.

Host: Alright, after you have prepared, you can set out.

Host: Before the game starts, you can all choose a trendy culture-themed outfit at the clothes store.

[Flashback end]

After regaining my train of thought, I rushed to put on the clothes and pull aside the curtain, then walked in front of Xia Yan. However, as I turned in several slow circles, Xia Yan kept his eyes on his phone the whole time.

MC: Xia Yan, why do you keep staring at your phone!

MC: You’re not even giving me your opinion… does it look good or not!

Xia Yan: …

Xia Yan: It looks great, of course! You look great no matter what you wear.

MC: Really? Why do I feel like you’re… being a little perfunctory?

Xia Yan: It’s not perfunctory, they’re all my sincere thoughts!

Xia Yan rushed to shove his phone back into his pocket.

Xia Yan: I just received a message and didn’t notice, sorry.

MC: Is it an important message?

Xia Yan: It’s nothing urgent.

Xia Yan stood up, walked around me in a circle, carefully looking over the clothes I was wearing.

Xia Yan: Inspection complete. It really suits you, so let’s go with it!

Xia Yan: Looks like my eye is getting better and better.

MC: Pfft…

MC: Right, Xia Yan, I haven’t asked you yet – when did you learn to skateboard?

MC: I definitely remember that you hadn’t learned to skateboard before.

[Flashback]

Near the School Grounds

During middle school, Xia Yan wanted to learn to skateboard, but the school prohibited students from doing dangerous activities like this.

School Dean: Young man in front, get over here!

Xia Yan: Crap!

MC: I’ll cover for you, run!

Xia Yan planted a foot on the skateboard, kicked off the ground quickly, and disappeared past a corner within seconds.

School Dean: You-! Which class did that boy come from?

MC: I don’t know. I also just passed by, and I’d wanted to persuade him to stay away from these dangerous activities.

Xia Yan: Oww!

The sound of something falling sounded from far away, followed by Xia Yan’s pained shout.

MC: Xia Yan!

Since he left in a rush, Xia Yan, who was not yet familiar with the skateboard, fell heavily down from the stairs.

[Flashback end]

MC: After falling that time, didn’t you not ride the skateboard ever again?

MC: When did you secretly learn it again?

Xia Yan: Uh… that time was just an accident because I ran off too quickly. Afterwards, I was very careful.

MC: So you really were doing it secretly…

Xia Yan: Just a few times. I didn’t say it because I was afraid you’d worry.

MC: Really?

Xia Yan: It really was just a few times. Think about it, weren’t we together all day?

Smiling, Xia Yan changed the topic.

Xia Yan: I actually truly learned the skateboard after going to the Ministry of National Security.

Xia Yan: The teacher who took me in back then really liked skateboarding, and I learned from him.

Xia Yan: There was very little time to relax in the Ministry, but whenever there was time, I would skateboard with my teacher.

Xia Yan: When I was little, I was only concerned about looking cool and rushed too much. After learning the basics from my teacher, I wasn’t scared of getting hurt anymore.

MC: Alright alright, I won’t look into the things you’ve hidden from me.

MC: You can’t be like this in the future. You have to tell me if anything comes up!

Xia Yan: …

MC: Could it be that you’re hiding other things from me?

Part 2

MC: Could it be that you’re hiding other things from me?

Xia Yan: I’m not.

Xia Yan: Alright, it’s about time, so let’s hurry out.

Hearing Xia Yan say this, I took out the mission card given by the program team from my pocket.

MC: We have a total of four components to find – the board, bracket, bearings, and wheels respectively.

MC: Although, where should we start?

Xia Yan: There’s a clue on here, right?

Xia Yan pointed to a sentence on the mission card.

Xia Yan: “One cunning and one foolish” – this should be the clue.

MC: Does this mean we have to find two NPCs, one smart and one dumb?

Xia Yan: Shouldn’t be, I feel like this sentence seems more like a riddle.

If it’s a riddle…

>The answer is a word >The answer is a term

MC: The answer should be a term, and “cunning” and “foolish” represent one word each.

Xia Yan: But what word does “cunning” refer to?

MC: Cunning… crafty… foolish… inflexible…

MC: I got it!

MC: Cunning refers to “skate”, and foolish refers to “inflexible”, which is “board”.

MC: When joined together, they form the term “skateboard”.

Note: 狡诈 = Cunning; 狡猾 = Crafty; these are synonyms (or near synonyms) that have the same first character; the second character of “crafty” sounds the same as and looks similar to 滑, which makes the first character of “skateboard” in Chinese.

呆 = Foolish; 呆板 = Inflexible; the term for inflexible includes the term for foolish, and the other part, 板, is the second character of “skateboard” in Chinese.

Also note that skateboard in Chinese is made of two characters, rather than one (hence why the answer is a term, not a word)

I do think that this riddle is a bit of a stretch though haha

Xia Yan: If the answer is “skateboard” … then let’s go ask at the skateboard shop.

Skateboard Shop

As soon as we entered the skateboard shop, Xia Yan and I saw another team of guests. They were surrounding the staff member, wanting to ask for some information.

Guest A: You really aren’t an NPC from the program team? You really don’t know what this sentence means?

Guest B: We’ve already asked all around. This is the only skateboard shop on the commerce street, so it has to be this place.

Shop Staff: My apologies, sirs, I really do not know what that sentence means. Please do not impede my work anymore.

Guest A: Alright, sorry about that.

The two gave up struggling. When they saw Xia Yan and I come in, they sighed helplessly.

Guest A: Don’t waste your energy. That person isn’t an NPC; we’ve already asked.

After speaking to us, the two left the skateboard shop dispiritedly.

MC: What do we do now? We guessed wrong…

Xia Yan: Not necessarily.

Xia Yan: She only said that she didn’t know what the sentence meant, but she never denied that she was an NPC of the program team.

Smiling, Xia Yan walked up to the staff member, took out the mission card, and pointed to the riddle on it.

Xia Yan: We already know what this sentence means. This is a riddle, and its answer is “skateboard”.

Xia Yan: This is the only skateboard shop on the street, so you should be an NPC of the program team.

Hearing Xia Yan speak, the staff member smiled slightly.

Shop Staff: Congrats on solving the riddle and successfully passing the first stage.

Shop Staff: This is the skateboard’s bracket; please hold onto it.

MC: Awesome, Xia Yan, we got it right.

Xia Yan: Then do you have the clue for the second stage here?

Shop Staff: If you want the second clue, the two of you need to do a little challenge.

Xia Yan: Sure, what challenge? Bring it on.

Seeing Xia Yan’s determined expression, the shop staff took out a little plate, grinning.

Shop Staff: It’s nothing difficult; the two of you just need to eat two spicy peppers raw to get the next clue.

Xia Yan: W-what?

Xia Yan’s smile stiffened instantly. Seeing this, the cameraman followed up quietly, pointing the camera at Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: Ah, this… uh…

The peppers were bright red, and a single glance would tell you that they were very spicy.

MC: (Even someone who can handle spice probably wouldn’t be able to endure this test.)

Xia Yan closed his eyes, held his breath, took a pepper, then stuffed it in his mouth. After chewing quickly twice, he rushed to swallow the pepper down.

A mere few seconds after, Xia Yan’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, inhaling deeply.

MC: Xia Yan, are you okay?

Xia Yan: Water… water! Quick, give me water!

Luckily, the program team had prepared in advance. I rushed to hand a glass of water to Xia Yan. He swallowed the water noisily, and even his eyes had reddened from the spice, tears at the corners of his eyes.

MC: (I can’t let Xia Yan suffer alone, so I’ll do it too!)

I grabbed the second pepper and stuffed it in my mouth. The agonizing taste spread in my mouth, and I speedily swallowed the pepper.

Xia Yan: Ah! Haa…. Don’t eat it! Haa…

Right after swallowing the pepper, a mere few seconds later, a burning hot spiciness rushed at me, filling my mouth with pain.

MC: So spicy! Water! Water!

MC: This is way too spicy!

Xia Yan: Haa… here, water… haa…

Unable to pay attention to how I appeared in front of the camera, I took the water and drank it down noisily.

After ten entire minutes, Xia Yan’s and my tongues finally recovered.

MC: So much hassle just to get this clue.

Xia Yan: Miss, you can give us the second clue now, right?

Shop Staff: Indeed I can.

The staff member took out a little paper slip and handed it to Xia Yan.

Xia Yan: “Seems to be but is not; search for the origin.”

MC: Looks like it’s a riddle again. I wonder what it means?

MC: Origin… does that mean the originating point? Could it have to do with the materials that make the skateboard?

After not hearing an answer from Xia Yan, I looked up, wondering. Xia Yan wasn’t looking at the paper slip; instead, he was staring at the product shelves, thinking about something.

MC: Xia Yan, Xia Yan?

Xia Yan: Ah, sorry, I just got distracted…

MC: Is there something you want to buy?

Xia Yan: No, I just felt like there was someone over there just now.

MC: Probably the cameraman from the program team; don’t they have to take some other shots?

Xia Yan: I feel like there’s someone who’s been watching us the whole time.

Xia Yan: Although, since we’re filming a variety show, people watching out of curiosity is also normal.

Xia Yan: Let’s go, we’ll think about this new riddle on the way.

MC: Sure.

Part 3

Commerce Street

After walking aimlessly on the road for a while, I felt faintly unsettled from seeing Xia Yan’s expression. He didn’t seem like he was thinking seriously about the answer to the riddle – instead, he kept scanning the people on the road.

MC: Xia Yan, I feel like you’ve been a bit absentminded ever since the beginning.

MC: What did you see? What’s the matter?

Xia Yan: It’s nothing…

MC: …

Xia Yan must be hiding something from me. But we had microphones on us right now and were surrounded by the program team staff, so I couldn’t just ask him.

Seeing my concern, Xia Yan gently touched the microphone, then winked.

Xia Yan: Let’s rest up ahead first.

MC: (Is he hinting that he’ll use other methods to tell me?)

We found a drinks shop by the road and scanned the menu code on our phones. Just as I was browsing the menu, contact notifications popped up.

[Phone Interface]

[Xia Yan]: It seems like I offended someone when investigating a case before. I received a text when trying clothes on earlier.

[Xia Yan]: The text told me to be careful, and he’d let me know how one “ends up when sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong”.

[Xia Yan]: Though I don’t know if they’re just trying to scare me or if they’re serious, it’s still better to be careful.

[MC]: Did they bring up the show filming today?

[Xia Yan]: No, though I’m a little worried.

[Xia Yan]: There are lots of people here, and I can’t tell if anyone with bad intentions might have mixed in.

[MC]: Okay, I got it.

[MC]: I’ll help you keep an eye out on the surroundings. You be careful too.

MC: …

So Xia Yan’s unusual expression just now was because of this. I relaxed the expression on my face, ordering a drink as if nothing were up.

MC: Let’s hurry and think about that riddle.

MC: Search for the origin… what does that refer to?

MC: Is there some special story associated with the origin of the skateboard?

Xia Yan: Hm… I’m not too clear on this either. I’ve only heard that skateboarding is an extension of surfing.

Xia Yan: Apparently, people living on the seaside were the ones to invent the first skateboard, to not be limited by geography or climate, and to enjoy the feeling of surfing.

MC: Could it have to do with surfing?

I turned on my phone and sure enough, I was able to find a surfing equipment shop.

Xia Yan: Who would’ve thought that there really would be a surfing equipment shop here…

Xia Yan: Then let’s go see.

Surfing Equipment Shop

Xia Yan: Surfing is the origin of skateboarding, and the surfboard and skateboard also have similar aspects.

Xia Yan: So the answer to “Seems to be but is not; search for the origin” is this place, right?

Shop Owner: I didn’t think that you two would be able to get here this quickly.

Shop Owner: You’re the first team that drew skateboarding to get here.

Shop Owner: You can get the board and sandpaper here.

The shop owner thus handed the items to us.

Shop Owner: If you’d like, you can assemble the components you’ve gotten first.

Xia Yan: It’s inconvenient carrying the sandpaper around, so let’s just assemble it here.

MC: Sure.

Xia Yan: Then can you also provide us things like screws and washers?

Shop Owner: Hahaha, of course. You two won’t need to waste energy searching for those.

After getting the materials, Xia Yan tugged me down to sit and started to assemble the skateboard.

MC: You really are familiar with this.

Xia Yan: Yeah, because I’ve always disassembled and reassembled my skateboard myself.

Xia Yan: To me, the skateboard is just like a partner.

Xia Yan stared seriously at the skateboard, twisting the wrench in his hand.

Xia Yan: Did you know – each skateboard gives everyone a different feeling, and each one is special.

Xia Yan: The tightness of the brackets, the size and hardness of the wheels, the material of the board – all of these will give a different feeling for each person.

I gazed quietly at Xia Yan. His eyes were shining, flashing with the light of excitement. Hearing him speak, it felt as if the skateboard in my hands had a life.

MC: Xia Yan, why do you like skateboarding this much?

MC: Is it because of the stimulation from fast movement?

He stopped the movements of his hands and thought for a moment. Then slowly opened his mouth.

Xia Yan: It isn’t that, or you could say that it isn’t just that.

Xia Yan: As an extreme sport, skateboarding can be mentally stimulating, but compared to my line of work, it’s not really worth mentioning.

Xia Yan: I still like skateboarding because it lets me continue to challenge myself and break past my limits.

Xia Yan: After completing a challenge, the joy of achievement is what has me most fascinated.

I had never ridden a skateboard, and I hadn’t personally experienced the emotions Xia Yan had towards skateboarding. But seeing him look like he liked it this much, my emotions felt somewhat complicated…

MC: Xia Yan, when we were little, mom and dad didn’t let you skateboard, and I didn’t support you for it…

MC: Do you blame us?

Hearing me speak, Xia Yan was somewhat surprised.

Xia Yan: Blame you? What for?

MC: Because we didn’t understand you…

Xia Yan: I don’t – I wouldn’t blame uncle and auntie, and I definitely wouldn’t blame you.

Xia Yan: Uncle and auntie wanted me to grow healthily, and you didn’t want a repeat of the past – it was all for my own good.

Xia Yan: Everyone has their own selfishness, especially towards those who are the most important to them.

Xia Yan’s voice got lower and lower, and I seemed to hear a faint whisper.

Xia Yan: I’m like that too…

Before I could ask him about it, Xia Yan’s hands stopped moving as he smiled.

Xia Yan: Alright, it’s done. Now only the wheels and bearings are left.

Xia Yan: Boss, do you have the next riddle clue?

Seeing us about to leave, the boss took out a sheet of paper and handed it to us.

Xia Yan: Let me see… A car carries seven people, and twenty-eight people return home…

Sure enough, yet another riddle.

Xia Yan: Should be a word riddle… a car with seven people on it…

MC: Ah, I get it! The answer is “wheel”.

Xia Yan: Makes sense, so the twenty-eight people refer to the four wheels?

Note: The Chinese character for wheel is 轮, which is visually made of three different characters, 车 (car), 人 (person), and 七 (seven). If there are 7 people per wheel, and 28 people total, this means there are 4 wheels.

MC: Then “return home” should refer to where the tires are…

Xia Yan: “Return home”… or we can take it to mean “the place of the very beginning”?

MC: Does it refer to that studio where we started filming the show?

Xia Yan: Possibly, but it might also be the first place where we found the clue.

MC: That skateboard shop?

Xia Yan: Yeah, it said in the mission card that the locations to finish the missions are on this commerce street, but the studio is some distance away from here.

MC: So the location should be the first store we entered after arriving on the commerce street, or the place where we found the first clue.

MC: Although the program team wouldn’t know where we’d go first, so it’s more likely to be the skateboard shop.

Xia Yan: Yep, that’s right.

MC: Then let’s go check out the skateboard shop again.

Skateboard Shop

We changed direction and headed back to that skateboard shop. Seeing that we had returned, the store staff was a little curious.

Shop Staff: Why did you come back? Did you leave something behind?

Xia Yan: Yeah, we left “something” behind.

Xia Yan displayed the clue in his hand, pointing to the words on it.

Xia Yan: A car carries seven people, and twenty-eight people return home. The answer to this riddle is this store, right?

Shop Staff: Correct, the answer is indeed this place.

Seeing that Xia Yan and I had already found the answer, the shop staff no longer concealed anything, taking out four wheels from the shelves.

Shop Staff: Here, take it.

MC: Awesome, Xia Yan, now all that’s left is…

MC: Ah…

Suddenly, a massive force pulled me backwards.

Xia Yan: Careful!

MC: Xia Yan?

Xia Yan’s brows drew closely together, switching positions with me in what was nearly an instant, blocking me from the front. Only then did I realize that someone was running straight towards us. He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, and a single glance could tell you that he came with ill intent.

Xia Yan: Who are you?

If Xia Yan hadn’t pulled me back just now, that guy would have made it in front of me by now. When I remembered the message Xia Yan sent me earlier, my heart jumped up to my throat.

MC: (Is it someone who came to get revenge on Xia Yan?)

MC: (Xia Yan thought someone was watching us before. Could it be him? Was he following us the whole time?)

???: Ow!

Before I could react, Xia Yan swept a leg out, knocking the guy down to the ground.

???: Heeey! W-wait! You can’t just hit me!

???: This is different from what was promised!

Xia Yan: ???

Seeing that Xia Yan had stopped, the man propped himself up into a sitting position, then speedily shifted backwards. After he had escaped beyond five metres, he cleared his throat again, rambling some “fierce words”.

???: If you… got the skill, then… have a showdown with me!

Xia Yan: …

MC: …

Hearing this, Xia Yan and I had completely frozen where we were. The man sitting on the ground had also gotten up, taking advantage of this to snatch the wheels in Xia Yan’s hands.

???: I… I’m taking the wheels. If… if you want to take them back, then find me at the park!

???: Remember, it’s the park behind the commerce street!

After speaking, he sprinted out of the shop door, holding the wheels.

Part 4

If you asked me what the most awkward experience of my entire life was, I bet it would be this moment. It was obvious that the guy who’d just come was an NPC arranged by the program team, yet Xia Yan and I took him to be a dangerous hoodlum and knocked him down.

Xia Yan: So it was someone arranged by the program team…

Xia Yan: And I was just making a big deal out of nothing.

Shop Staff: Sir, isn’t your desire to protect a little too strong?

Seeing that the shop staff, who didn’t know about the whole situation, trying to hold in her laughter, I felt so awkward that my toes could pretty much dig into the ground.

MC: …

Xia Yan: I’m really sorry…

Xia Yan turned around, apologizing to the program team staff. But the director said nothing, holding up a sign in his hand, which had writing on it:

Continue!

Xia Yan: Ahem ahem… then let’s hurry and find him.

MC: Okay, let’s use our ability to get the wheels back.

Park

After adjusting our mentalities, Xia Yan and I arrived at the skateboard park behind the commerce street. The man we’d run into at the shop just now was holding a skateboard, waiting for us in the middle of the square. Beside his foot were several skateboards of different styles and some protective gear.

Director: This is the special guest we invited for the show. He’s a professional skateboarder and has won quite a few awards.

Xia Yan: I’m really sorry about just now…

Skateboarder Young Man: No problem, no problem… I’ve fallen a lot while skateboarding, and I’ve long gotten used to it.

After a simple greeting, the man in front of us cleared his throat, reciting the show script given to him.

Skateboarder Young Man: You two have finally arrived.

Skateboarder Young Man: If you want to get the wheels back, then bring on your true skill!

Xia Yan: Then tell us, what do we need to do for you to return the wheels to us?

Skateboarder Young Man: See this racecourse? You two have to ride to the endpoint together.

Skateboarder Young Man: No worries if you go a little slowly, but if you fall off the skateboard midway, you’ll have to start over.

MC: They… want me to skateboard?

Xia Yan: Sure, no problem.

Seeing my shocked expression, Xia Yan circled his arm around my shoulders with a smile, patting me gently.

Xia Yan: No problem, we still have two hours, which is enough for me to teach you now.

I looked at the racecourse before us. It was around two hundred metres in distance, there were obstacles on the straight path, and there were around four or five turns. The worst was a row of barricade poles near the endpoint…

MC: This is…

Skateboarder Young Man: Barricade poles. You must use a Hippy Jump to jump over them.

MC: Hippy Jump?

Xia Yan: It’s a term for a skateboarding move, meaning that you jump up from the skateboard, then fall back onto the skateboard while riding.

MC: ???

MC: I don’t even know how to skateboard, yet they also need me to… jump?

Xia Yan: It’s fine, we can definitely do this. I’ll teach you how to skateboard first.

Xia Yan borrowed two skateboards from the program team and helped me put on various sorts of protective gear.

Xia Yan: Here, put your left foot on the skateboard first, and put your center of gravity on the left foot…

I carefully followed Xia Yan’s directions, planting my foot on the skateboard.

Xia Yan: Then put your right foot on, stand stably and get a feel of it.

MC: Okay.

Seeing that my feet were placed horizontally on the skateboard, Xia Yan gently let go.

Xia Yan: Great, keep the skateboard horizontal. Don’t push down with your heel.

This was my first time standing without support on the skateboard. Though I wasn’t moving, my legs still couldn’t help trembling. The skateboard wasn’t as stable as I’d imagined – the board was prone to movement, and with my wobbliness, it also rolled from left to right.

MC: Aaah!

I didn’t know why, but Xia Yan’s miserable fall during school replayed over and over in my head, making me more and more nervous. All the muscles in my body tightened, and I tried my best to maintain balance.

Xia Yan: Don’t be nervous, relax… relax…

Xia Yan: You don’t have to tighten up this much. I won’t let you fall.

Under Xia Yan’s consolation, I heaved a deep breath, then gradually straightened my body. Sure enough, when my legs stopped trembling, so did the board.

Xia Yan: Now, let’s try moving.

Xia Yan: Put your forward foot where the truck bolt is, slowly kick at the ground, and then follow up with the back foot.

Xia Yan: You have to fix the center of gravity on the left foot. Don’t be afraid.

Xia Yan opened his hands on my sides, as if he could grab onto me, no matter what pose I fell in. With him standing beside me, I felt filled with limitless courage. Following his instructions, I lightly kicked at the ground with my right foot. The skateboard rolled forward crookedly, and I gritted my teeth, quickly moving my back foot onto the board.

MC: Ah…

I spread my hands, trying to maintain balance.

Xia Yan: Straighten your front foot. That’s right, just like that, you got it!

The skateboard rolled forward, slow as a snail – but no matter what, I had successfully overcome my mental obstacles.

For the next hour, I repeatedly practiced skateboarding, as well as learned some simple turns under Xia Yan’s instruction. With half an hour left to go before the mission ended, I decided to end training and officially take on the challenge.

Skateboarder Young Man: Ready to go? Ready, start…

I heaved a deep breath, stepped onto the skateboard, and started to move.

Xia Yan: Awesome, here I go.

Seeing me stabilize myself, Xia Yan caught up from behind. He held onto my hand, spurring me forward at a faster speed.

Xia Yan: How does it feel?

Two skateboards, one in front and one behind, moved forward at breakneck speed. I held tightly onto his hand. A slight summer breeze blew at the hairs around my ears, bringing a sliver of warmth amid the coolness.

MC: Pretty decent.

Xia Yan: Push down lightly with your toes. We’re about to get through the first turn.

MC: Okay.

The turn was right before us, and the flowerbeds on the roadside looked like they were rushing at me.

MC: (Relax, I have to trust Xia Yan… and trust myself!)

As I maintained my balance, my toes pushed down on one side of the board. The board started to turn, but the arc of movement couldn’t keep up with the curvature of the path.

MC: (I have to get past!)

I couldn’t help squinting my eyes and holding my breath. As if the skateboard had heard my prayers, it slowly changed directions, and the shrubbery in front of me also gradually got further.

MC: Xia Yan, I did it!

Xia Yan: I said so already – you can definitely do this.

My heart beat wildly, but I knew that it wasn’t because of fear – instead, it was because of excitement. Right then, I understood why Xia Yan loved skateboarding so much, refusing to give up even if he fell and got hurt. Extreme sports were not only a source of excitement and stimulation, but there was also the sense of accomplishment after conquering yourself.

MC: (We’ve gotten past four turns. Next up, there’s…)

Xia Yan: Do you trust me?

MC: ???

Xia Yan: No, I should say, do you trust in yourself to jump over the barricade poles?

Xia Yan turned around and looked at me, his eyes full of anticipation and encouragement.

Do I trust in myself? As a newbie, it was really hard for me to say. But…

MC: Xia Yan, I trust you.

Seeing my certain expression, the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly.

Xia Yan: When you hear me say “Jump” in a moment, jump upwards.

Xia Yan: Don’t jump forward or backwards, just straight upwards. Then, raise your knees high.

Xia Yan: And leave the rest to me.

As we spoke, the barricade poles got closer and closer to me.

Was jumping up from the skateboard really something I could do? Though they were only 30 centimeters high, I might fall from jumping if I’m not careful…

A thin layer of sweat formed on my hand, and I started to feel a chill at my fingertips.

Xia Yan: Right now, jump!

Xia Yan and I let go of our tightly held hands simultaneously, and I followed Xia Yan’s instructions, lifting my knees as I jumped.

The feeling of flying through the air left me without the feeling of safety, and my heart beat furiously. I shut my eyes tightly in anxiety.

Suddenly, a strong arm clasped around my waist, and an external force pulled me upwards. With a clunk, my feet fell back onto the skateboard.

MC: Ah—

Xia Yan: Don’t be afraid.

Xia Yan: You’ve already done very well. Just leave the rest to me.

Xia Yan’s gentle voice sounded by my ear. He maneuvered my skateboard with one foot, with one hand supporting my backwards-leaning waist.

MC: …

Our poses right now looked very much like embracing dancers.

I lifted my head. Xia Yan’s face was as close as could be, such that I could even feel his breath. The hairs in front of his forehead entangled, and I could smell the fragrance of his shampoo, fresh and clean.

Xia Yan: Look, we did it!

With the sound of the timer’s ring, Xia Yan and I rushed past the yellow finish line.

Part 5

Skateboarder Young Man: Wow, you two really are impressive.

MC: Ahem ahem…

Xia Yan: …

Hearing the man’s teasing, Xia Yan retracted the arm he’d encircled around me.

Xia Yan: Alright, you can return the wheels to us now.

Skateboarder Young Man: I didn’t say that there’s only one part to this challenge.

The man shrugged, looking at us like he was waiting to watch something interesting.

MC: What? But now… there’s only half an hour until the mission ends.

Set up by the program team again as we were, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat frustrated. Seeing my expression, the skateboarder man shrugged.

Skateboarder Young Man: Plus, two teams have already finished the mission.

Skateboarder Young Man: If you two don’t hurry, you won’t be able to rank.

Skateboarder Young Man: Although, it can’t be helped – sucks that you guys drew skateboarding. That’s the hardest topic, after all.

Xia Yan pinched my hand on the side, giving me a meaningful look.

Xia Yan: Then how many tasks are there after this?

Skateboarder Young Man: There are still ten moves after this. Both of you have to try five types of obstacles.

Skateboarder Young Man: But between the two of you, you only need to successfully do six of them for me to give the tires to you. It shouldn’t be a big deal with this guy’s skills.

Skateboarder Young Man: Though you won’t be able to rank, finishing the mission in time can be considered passing with minimum grades.

That was true – getting the wheels and finishing the mission within limited time wasn’t difficult.

Xia Yan: Minimum grades? Ever since I was little, I have never handed in an answer sheet that only met minimum grade.

Xia Yan: If you’re a prizewinning skateboarder, would you dare to compete with me?

Skateboarder Young Man: Compete? Why wouldn’t I dare? What do you want to compete over?

Xia Yan: With these ten movements, I can finish them faster, jump higher, and do them with better posture than you.

Skateboarder Young Man: Dude, maybe your skateboarding is impressive compared to normal people, but I’m a professional skateboarder.

Xia Yan: If you don’t try, how can you be sure that I’ll lose to you?

With an expression that could pass for a smile or a level expression, Xia Yan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Xia Yan: If I win, you’ll give the wheels straight to us without needing her to try.

Xia Yan: If I lose, our challenge will change from ten to twenty, and we’ll have to successfully do them all to get the tires.

Xia Yan: How about it?

The man in front of us also looked eager, but as a program guest, he couldn’t change the rules without authorization. Right then, the director following us on the side spoke.

Director: Sure, then let’s change the rules so you two can compete.

Director: This way, the show will be more interesting!

Thus, Xia Yan and the skateboarder started the competition. The racecourse this time was a harder one – not only were there different sorts of obstacles, but there were also half-pipes – heaven for skateboarding enthusiasts. Seeing that the two were going to compete here, the enthusiasts got out of the grounds, excitedly watching from the side.

Whoosh – Xia Yan and the skateboarder sped past me. According to the agreed-upon rules, they had to circle the track twice, during which they had to use ten different moves. The first to arrive at the end would be the winner of this race. The first circle had already finished, and their speeds were about the same, though Xia Yan was leading.

MC: Xia Yan, do your best!

Skateboarding Young Man: Hah, is that all you’ve got?

The man laughed disdainfully, springing up at a turn, jumping onto the railings with his feet planted on the board. His skateboard stayed stably on the railings, sliding down the handrails. He swayed twice, stabilized his body, and continued to speed forward after landing back on the ground.

MC: He’s already finished ten moves, and even used the moves to take a shortcut…

As expected of a competition-winning skateboarder – he could use anything on the path. Meanwhile, Xia Yan still had two moves left to go, and the distance between them was widening.

Skateboarding Young Man: Sorry, the result’s determined – you’re going to lose.

Xia Yan: That’s not for sure.

Xia Yan’s foot pushed off forcefully from the ground as he lowered his centre of gravity, seeming like he was about to make some move.

MC: Up front is…

MC: Xia Yan, careful!

There was a deep pit in the middle of the grounds. Unlike before, when he opted for stable paths, he rushed down the half-pipe. The skateboard sped downwards, then shot up along the upwards slope.

Right then, Xia Yan flew up into the air from inertia.

Xia Yan: Just watch me.

MC: …

This scene looked like a stunning artscroll, unforgettable even from a single glance. Amid the azure skies, Xia Yan looked like an eagle with wings spread, soaring into the sky. His extended arms were like wings that sought freedom, as if he would rush into the sky if given a chance. Right then, everyone and everything around me retreated from the stage. My eyes were fixed solely on him.

MC: (Xia Yan… really is amazing.)

The people all around all gasped in amazement, making the skateboarder young man look towards Xia Yan.

Skateboarder Young Man: What?! How could this be…

After the skateboard flipped several times midair, Xia Yan’s foot fell back onto the skateboard. He rushed from the other side of the pit back onto the racecourse, leaving his opponent behind.

Xia Yan: This time, it’s my turn to take a shortcut.

His soft hair fluttered in the summer breeze, a sliver of unruliness on his face, his eyes dazzling.

Xia Yan: As long as one hasn’t arrived at the end yet, there is no such thing as a so-called foregone conclusion in life.

Xia Yan winked at me, leaping down from the ladder on the side of the racecourse.

With a clunk, he dropped stably onto the ground, rushing towards the end.

Xia Yan: Sorry, I win this time.

With ten high-difficulty moves complete, Xia Yan arrived at the end first.

And so, this competition drew to an end.

MC: Awesome, we won!

When I saw the race end, I happily ran towards Xia Yan.

Director: Quick, follow with the camera!

Director: Did you catch that shot of him flying up from the slope? That part was absolutely magnificent!

The intense competition seemed to have left Xia Yan somewhat exhausted. He wiped his sweat, wanting to find a place to sit and rest. I got a bottle of water from a staff member, planning to hand it to him. Right then, the cameraman and several staff members walked over, getting near him.

Suddenly, a dazzling light passed before me.

MC: Huh? What’s that?

I took a careful look. One of the field staff was the source of the dazzling light, which came from the opening of his sleeve.

When I saw the thing in his sleeve, cold sweat formed on my back.

That was a knife!

MC: Xia Yan, watch out!

Part 6

When I made out the thing in that person’s hand, my heart leapt up.

MC: Xia Yan, watch out!

When that person heard me, he looked back at me, then straight-up took the small knife out of his sleeve and rushed at Xia Yan.

MC: Crap!

MC: (What do I do?)

Driven by urgency, I snatched the skateboard beside me, throwing it towards the person.

Clonk—

Field Staff: Ah!!!

Caught off-guard by the wooden skateboard striking him, the man staggered. With his sneak attack stopped by me, the man in front of me rushed at me furiously.

Xia Yan: So it was you.

With a cold, short laugh, Xia Yan rushed forward, kicking the knife out of his hand. Before the man could react, Xia Yan caught his hand, restraining him onto the ground.

Field Staff: Let me go! Why did you damn detective have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!

Xia Yan: Hah, paying for murder with a lifetime. I merely made your father’s crimes known to the masses.

Xia Yan: Good thing you did not hurt her – otherwise, you would regret it.

Xia Yan looked frigidly at the person on the ground, then paid no more attention to him.

Xia Yan: Call the police.

The program team staff had been shocked frozen by the scene before them, only regaining their senses when Xia Yan reminded them.

Director: Yes, call the police, quick!

The sudden interlude cut the show recording short, and the director apologized to us. Not long after, the police arrived. Xia Yan and I also went to the police station.

Police Station

Yan Wei: He confessed. It was indeed him that sent you the threatening messages and emails.

Yan Wei: He thought that it was all because of you that his father ended up in jail.

After Xia Yan and I finished with record-making, we happened to run into Yan Wei, who had just finished interrogation. He looked at Xia Yan, smiling helplessly.

Yan Wei: He suddenly went from an extravagant life as a young master to the son of a criminal. He couldn’t bear it and wanted to get revenge on you.

Xia Yan: I never would’ve thought that he’d be able to get into the program team.

Yan Wei: He hasn’t said how he got in – probably bribed the crew staff.

Yan Wei: Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this thoroughly. I won’t let him threaten your safety.

MC: Thank you for the trouble, Sergeant Yan.

Yan Wei: No need to be polite – it’s part of my work.

Park

After we left the police station, the program team director called us, saying that they’d tape the remaining portion another day. During the call, the director repeatedly apologized to us, saying that they would definitely do a strict audit of the identities of the production team members. He also promised that similar things would not happen again.

Xia Yan: I never would’ve thought that he really would blame everything on me.

MC: Ugh… since we were in the middle of filming earlier, I didn’t have time to ask you.

MC: If I didn’t notice that something was off about you, were you not planning to tell me about the situation?

Xia Yan: It’s so rare for us to get out and have fun, and I didn’t want to sweep away your excitement.

Xia Yan: Not to mention that things happened so suddenly, and I wasn’t sure if it was a prank or if someone really was targeting me.

Xia Yan: So I didn’t tell you from the start.

I knew that, when faced with difficulty or danger, Xia Yan’s initial reaction was always to bear it himself. It had always been like this, ever since we were young.

[Flashback]

Near the School Grounds

MC: Xia Yan, so you were here.

Xia Yan: Ah… I…

Xia Yan’s foot had just stepped onto the skateboard when he saw me come over, and he hurried to retract it.

MC: When did you buy a skateboard?

Xia Yan: I didn’t, I borrowed it from our classmates… don’t tell uncle and auntie.

MC: The older boy from the neighbors just fell and broke his bone a few days ago, yet you’re still willing to play?

Xia Yan: That’s why I don’t want you to tell uncle and auntie!

MC: Then why did you hide it from me too?

Xia Yan: I didn’t do it on purpose – I wanted to show you after I learned to do it.

Xia Yan: You were the one to say that the older boy looked cool when he was skateboarding, after all…

MC: Really? I don’t even remember that…

Xia Yan: You… ugh…

Xia Yan: Either way, I borrowed a skateboard afterwards, wanting to learn, but you guys said that skateboarding was unsafe, and I was afraid you’d worry if I mentioned it.

Xia Yan: Rather than making you worry all day, I might as well… just not tell you.

MC: …

School Dean: Young man in front, get over here!

Xia Yan: Crap!

MC: I’ll cover for you, run!

[Flashback end]

Maybe it was because he worried for others too much, but Xia Yan always tended to hide lots of things inside.

MC: Xia Yan, did you know – when you hide things from me, I get even more worried.

MC: When we were young and you fell while skateboarding and injured yourself, your foot had clearly swollen. Yet you bore it all yourself, saying that it was all fine.

MC: Until mom and dad finally noticed two days later and rushed to take you to the hospital.

Xia Yan: I know… back then, I thought if I just endured it, it would be fine. I didn’t think it would be that serious.

Xia Yan: I originally didn’t want to make you, uncle, and auntie worried, but I ended up causing trouble for everyone instead.

MC: After that, I always worried about if you were hiding anything else from me, bearing it all alone.

Just like today. Even though with Xia Yan’s skill, he still might not have been injured even if I didn’t notice…

But, what if?

During then, Xia Yan had just finished off an intense competition and was exhausted. What if someone was able to take advantage of this to hurt him?

When I thought this, I couldn’t help shivering, balling my hand into a fist.

MC: Fortunately, this time, you didn’t hide it from me the whole time.

MC: If I clearly could have helped you, yet I have to watch you get injured with my eyes wide open, then I will never be able to forgive myself.

I stepped forward, gently clasping onto Xia Yan’s hands. His warm hands were full of calluses, proof of what he had experienced during those eight years. In the past, I always felt that this pair of hands brought a feeling of infinite peace of mind, but now, I also felt a sliver of heartache and worry.

Xia Yan: I know.

Xia Yan held my hands back, his eyes filled with helplessness.

Xia Yan: That’s also why I told you everything in the end.

He gently twisted up my stray hairs, tucking them behind my ears.

Xia Yan: Though I hope that all I bring you is happiness and joy, rather than unease and worry.

Xia Yan: But I know that people can’t stay away from all trouble, especially in NXX, where the road ahead will be difficult to traverse.

Xia Yan: So, I’ve decided. If the road ahead is fated to be covered in thorns, then I will grow with you by your side, no matter what comes at us, traversing this bumpy road fearlessly.

MC: Xia Yan…

Xia Yan: Was what I said a little foolish…

MC: You didn’t. I’m really happy that you’re finally willing to face trouble with me.

Xia Yan: Mhmm. In the future, if I encounter any unsolvable issues, I’ll tell you, and we’ll figure it out together.

MC: Okay, it’s a promise.

Xia Yan let out a long sigh, no longer discussing those slightly depressing topics.

Xia Yan: Today’s challenge was pretty fun. My only regret was how they had to stop filming midway, so we couldn’t rank or get prizes.

MC: It’s fine – plus, I feel like the challenge wasn’t a failure.

MC: It’s precisely because of this ending that I feel like this was a worthwhile trip.

The summer night wind blew over the lake surface, the cool air dominating my senses.

I silently made a wish in my heart – I hoped that one day, I could become strong enough. I hoped that I could also protect Xia Yan, this eagle flying high with his wings spread, and his smile that was as warm as sunshine.

Videocall

Good morning, got any plans today?

Why am I wearing this outfit? Because you said I looked good in it, so I bought it.

I also bought the outfit that you wore during filming.

Speaking of which, after the episode was broadcast, my colleagues laughed at me for a good while, saying that I looked hilarious when I was eating the chili peppers.

They even made me into a meme sticker and sent it into the Ministry group chat… even the teacher who taught me before started using it.

Revealing my identity? No need to worry about that, I reported it to the upper ranks before we went. And it’s exactly because of this that they watched the episode…

For the past few days, I checked out the comments… a lot of people were saying that we looked like a couple, dunno if you saw that…

Your colleagues and friends also said so? Then… do you feel troubled by it…

No? That’s good then. I actually feel like those shots were really well taken, and I rewatched it several times.

It really is great that we can use this sort of method to save good memories.

Right, the weather today’s pretty good, so do you wanna go out and skateboard? I can teach you to do some other things.

No protective gear? You don’t have to worry – I’ve got it all, gear and skateboards.

It might be a bit uncomfortable to wear the gear. If you haven’t gotten used to it, you don’t have to wear it. Either way, I’ll protect you.

With me here, I won’t let you fall, so just relax and leave yourself to me!

Then I’ll head for your house now, and I’ll also bring the clothes. See you soon.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #luke pearce #mihoyo #未定事件簿 #tot translation #weiding shijian bu #i am here for raven appearing #and the idea of xia yan's colleagues making him into a meme #oh and the pepper thing #hahaha #ok i'm gonna wither away until we get new xy content see yallll

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paper-mirio · 3 years

Text

Your Heart on Your Sleeve & A Knife in Your Back

Shindou Yo x Reader

Words: 7,229

Summary: When the two of you were young, you made a promise to each other that the two of you would be the greatest hero duo the world had ever seen. You would be the Pro Heroes Heat Wave and Grand, the best partners in the industry! And you weren’t going to let something as simple as going to different hero schools get in the way of your promise to your best friend. Before one can become a Pro Hero, however, they must receive their Provisional License. And really, since you’re so eager to talk to him about your classmates, can you blame him for using that information to his advantage? The answer, of course, is yes.

A/N: This was written as a Secret Santa present for a friend! It’s sort of a Christmas fic but since I don’t think I mentioned Christmas anywhere take it as a late generic holiday fic! Enjoy!

“I got in!” you shouted into the phone, prompting your dad to shout for you to lower your voice from downstairs. You called out an apology, gently setting down the hologram disc that came with your acceptance letter. The video had been paused near the end, and the smile on All Might’s frozen face paled in comparison to the beaming grin etched onto yours.

Instead of the excited encouragement you expected in response, you were met with silence. You waited, before hesitantly asking, “Shindou? You there?”

“...Yeah. Um, you got in where, exactly?” Shindou asked.

“Oh, yeah. I got into UA! They said I'm in class 1-A!” you exclaimed. You giggled excitedly, doing a small little dance. If Shindou were in the room with you he'd no doubt comment about how silly you looked, but you wouldn't care a bit. This was everything you dreamed of, and you felt like you were on top of the world right now.

“That's great, Y/N,” Shindou said, very clearly not as excited as you were. “So I guess that means you're not coming to Ketsubutsu, huh?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, guess not. I mean, I really would love to go to school with you, but Ketsubutsu is so far, and—“

“UA is your dream school, I get it! You don't have to make any excuses; if I were in your situation I'd choose UA too,” Shindou laughed. “Just don't get it in your head that this makes you better than me, alright? I may not be your senpai anymore, but I still have a year of experience on you.”

“If you say so,” you giggled. “Just get ready, I'll catch up with you before you know it. We gotta be on the same level when we team up, you know?”

Shindou chuckled. “True, true. I'll put in a good word for you with Yoroi Musha then. We’ll be able to get used to working together if he extends an internship offer to you.”

“Pfft, you won't need to! He'll be so blown away when he sees me at the Sports Festival this year, he’ll be begging to have me join,” you claim. Sure, you may have been exaggerating a bit there. After all, having the Number 8 Pro Hero as a mentor would be a very big deal. But you were confident in your skills, and Shindou made it sound so wonderful whenever he told you of his experiences working with the hero. You remember celebrating the night Shindou told you he'd been offered an internship at his agency, and you were still proud of him. He wasn't at the agency anymore, but was extended an offer to return once he'd gotten his provisional license.

“There you go again,” Shindou jokingly chided. “And they wonder why I worry about their ego...”

“Oh, because you're one to talk, right?” you joked back. You heard your dad call for you, and stopped laughing to let out a sigh. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call back soon, alright?”

“Yeah, talk to you later then. Bye.”

“Bye!” you said, quickly hanging up. You pocketed your phone and moved to exit your room when you caught sight of your acceptance letter. You squealed in excitement. You were gonna be a hero!

You entered Shindou’s apartment, giving a brief bow to Shindou’s mother on your way in. “Thank you for having me over on such short notice!” you thanked her.

She waved it off with a smile. “It's no problem, Y/N,” she said. “You're always welcome here! Besides, after what your class just went through we would've invited you over anyway!” Her eyes narrowed mischievously, and she leaned in and lowered her voice before continuing, “I know he's bad at showing how he really feels, but Yo’s been worried sick ever since the news broke. So I'm sure he'll be more than happy to see you here.”

You flushed at this, nodding in response and laughing nervously. “Haha, well, I guess I'll go see him now then!” You waved goodbye before rushing off in the direction of Shindou’s room. Once outside, you knocked a few times before placing your hand on the doorknob. “Shindou? It's me, Y/N. Can I come in?” you asked. You were met with complete silence. Your furrowed your eyebrows. “Shindou?” You placed your ear to the door, trying to listen for any movement on the other side. Nothing. Concern bubbled within you, and worst-case scenarios ran through your mind. Was your school the only one targeted today? Maybe someone had attacked Shindou without his family noticing. Trying not to panic, you called him once more. When no response came, you announced, “I’m coming in,” before twisting the doorknob and opening the door.

Quickly surveying the room for anything wrong, you sighed in relief at the sight of Shindou asleep in his bed, headphones covering his ears. Once the concern left you, you rolled your eyes in amusement. “Worried sick, huh?” you muttered, shaking your head and making your way over to stand at the side of his bed. Without warning, you flopped onto the bed next to him, throwing your weight into your fall. The mattress springs squeaked in resistance and Shindou was sent a few inches into the air, startling him awake. He ripped his headphones off and raised his hands into fists, seemingly ready for a fight before his eyes landed on you, casually lying in his bed with a devious smirk on your face.

His wide eyes blinked in confusion, and he reached up to rub at them before asking, “Y/N?”

You finally laughed at the confused look on his face. “Hey, Shindou. How was school today?”

At the mention of school, he was wide awake. The look on his face turned serious, and he gave you a slight glare. “I should be the one asking you that! A villain attack?!” He looked you up and down, concern etched into his features. “Are you hurt?”

Your smile turned soft, and you placed your hands on his shoulders. “Look, I’m fine! See? Not a scratch on me!” Except for the one on my back, you thought, but he didn't need to know about that. “As if I’d let some lowlife villain get the best of me!” you scoffed. “Besides, they really didn't know what they were doing with the whole attack. They basically made it easier for us all to fight back.”

Shindou raised an eyebrow, intrigued, yet still concerned. “They did? How?”

You giggled, finding humor in the convenience of the situation. “Okay, I probably shouldn't be laughing because I got really lucky they messed up the way they did, but it's just so perfect! We were at a training facility specifically for rescue training, so there were different zones for different types of disasters. And when the villains first showed up, they had their warper villain separate us into the different zones so they could pick us off individually, and—“

“So they were trying to kill you guys?!” Shindou asked, alarmed.

You sighed, frustrated at the interruption. “Yeah, they were. Anyway,” you continued, ignoring the growing concern in Shindou’s face, “we were all sent to the different disaster zones randomly. And, get this,” you giggled, pausing for dramatic effect, “they sent me to the fire zone.”

Shindou blinked, processing your statement before a bemused grin formed. “They didn't!”

“They did!” you cackled. The two of you laughed together for a few moments, with you hugging your sides. You wiped a tear from your eye, proceeding with your explanation of the day’s events. “Yeah, Ojiro and I took care of those assholes in no time.”

“Ojiro?” Shindou asked.

“Oh yeah, I haven't told you about any of my classmates yet. Ojiro’s got this really cool tail Quirk, and he's insane at martial arts!” You mimed some of the moves you’d seen your classmate perform earlier in the day, a large grin on your face. “With me practically giving them heatstroke and him kicking them into the concrete, they hardly stood a chance against us!” You smiled and leaned back in the bed, hands behind your head as you smiled at the ceiling. “I wasn't the only one who got a convenient placement, either. One of my classmates, Tsuyu, has a frog mutation Quirk. One of the many, many things she can do with her Quirk is swim fast.”

“Oh, let me guess,” Shindou cut in. “Flood zone?”

“Close,” you responded. “Shipwreck.”

Shindou snapped his fingers, muttering, “Damn.” He turned to face you, a small smile on his face. “You really did get lucky today, huh? You're sure you're alright?”

You nodded, returning his smile. “I promise, I'm perfectly fine. Other than this one kid with a really self-destructive Quirk and two of our teachers, nobody got seriously hurt. And those three are gonna be just fine, last I heard.” You let out a dreamy sigh. “Aside from, you know, the threat of death and all, it was cool seeing everyone’s Quirks in action. My classmates are all really cool.”

If you hadn't been staring at the ceiling, you might've noticed a certain glint in Shindou’s eyes. Having known him all your life, you would've immediately recognized the look as one he gets when scheming to himself. However, as you were looking away, he was met with no confrontation as a sly grin formed on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “They do sound pretty cool. Why don't you tell me more about them?”

You laid face down in your bed, unable to face the shame of meeting your friend’s gaze. Such a defeat had been humiliating, broadcast for the whole nation to see your failure. I can never go outside again, you thought. My entire career, down the drain. It was fun while it lasted. You'd survived an attack by villains, but this? This was your downfall.

“Y/N,” groaned Shindou, tired of your dramatics. “You got third place. That's good. What are you so embarrassed about?”

You lifted your head off your pillow to sent him a scathing glare. He rolled his eyes, not at all intimidated. “It wasn't good enough! I only got to the tournament round because Ojiro dropped out, and then I couldn't even last a minute against Todoroki! Me! Losing to the kid with the ice quirk!” You flopped your head back down, heaving another loud sigh into the pillow. “Who’d want to take me on as an intern after that mess I made out there...?” Your voice, muffled by the pillow, barely reached Shindou.

“Well, Yoroi Musha, for one,” Shindou muttered, rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh at the way your head jerked up in surprise.

“Wait, for real?!”

Shindou nodded. “You haven't gotten the offers yet, but he said he was impressed by your performance and thinks you'd be a good fit at the agency. Because, you know, you got third place and did a really good job, Y/N.” He watched as you processed those, waiting for the excited laughter that normally came when you received good news. This was a big deal, after all, and a great opportunity for your career. The laughter never came, however, as he saw you blink in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing. He sighed, realizing the issue. You still weren't satisfied with your performance, and you didn't understand why a high-ranking hero was impressed. Shaking his head, he moved to sit next to you on your bed, forcing you to roll into your back to make room for him. Lightly nudging your shoulder, he got your attention, asking, “Look, let's talk about what happened today. Maybe it'll get you to understand how well you actually did. Forget the second round and start with the first tournament match. Who were you up against?”

You sighed, grabbing your pillow and covering your face with it. “You watched the whole thing, you already know—“

“We’re talking each other through it,” he cut you off, ripping your pillow away. “Now, who did you fight?”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Kaminari Denki. My classmate.”

Shindou nodded. “Quirk?”

“Electricity.”

“And how did you beat him?”

“Kept my distance, since he’s better at short-range combat. Used my Quirk to make the air around us hotter, exhausting him faster and increasing the air’s resistance to electric current, making his attacks slower. I just waited for him to short out at that point,” you recited. You sighed once you finished. “Okay yeah, I did okay in that fight, but what about—?”

“Patience,” Shindou gently said, ruffling your hair as he cut you off yet again. Ignoring your pointed glare and avoiding your hand swatting his away, he nodded. “Next round. Who’d you fight?”

“Iida Tenya. Engine Quirk. I caused his engines to overheat,” you said, covering the questions you knew he'd ask before he got to them. “Harder to target him because he moved too fast, and he nearly got me out of the ring at one point.”

Shindou nodded. “Good, good.” He smiled down at me. “Now, the last round.”

You sighed, turning on your side away from him as your face flushed in embarrassment. “Do we really need to go over this one? It was embarrassing enough living through it.”

Shindou gripped your shoulder, rolling you back and laughing when he saw the pout on your face. “Yes, we do. It's important to understand your failures and learn from them. Can't be a good hero if you don't do that.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “...Fine. Todoroki Shouto. Half-hot, half-cold. I've only ever seen him use his fire against Midoriya, though.” You paused, frown deepening on your face.

Shindou poked your cheek at the corner of your frown, a smirk on his face. “Go on,” he teased.

“When the round started he sent ice to capture me like he did for everyone else. I used my Quirk to melt the ice, but I didn't evaporate it because the steam would have blocked my vision.”

“So the water was still on the floor of the ring?” Shindou asked.

“Yeah. I tried to get closer to him, since he seems like he prefers long-range attacks. Plus if he used his fire, I could've turned that against him. He didn't. And he kept avoiding me while I tried to close the distance until we basically circled the stage.”

“And,” Shindou added, “while this was happening you weren't focused on where you were standing.”

You shook your head. “Nope, just focused on getting closer to him.”

“So when you circled the stage—“

“I ended up back where I started,” you ground out between clenched teeth, “right where the puddle was from the ice I melted.”

“And the puddle?”

“Frozen over.”

“So,” Shindou continued, covering his mouth to try and stifle a laugh. “When you stepped on the ice?”

You sighed, sending him a pointed glare at his poor attempt to hide his laughter. “I fell on my ass, and Todoroki knocked me off the stage with more ice.”

Shindou snorted at the memory. He took in a breath, trying not to laugh too much when you were still embarrassed over the whole situation. “Now, if you had to do something different during that fight, what would you have done?”

You thought for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Well,” you started, “I’d definitely get rid of that puddle, for one.” You continued to think, nodding to yourself. “I could try to do what Midoriya did and wait for him to overuse his ice, instead of chasing him around like I did. He'd either wear himself out from the cold or he'd use his fire, which I could turn against him.” You smiled, proud of yourself for your plan, before the smile dropped and you slammed your face into the pillow again. “Ugh, why didn't I just do that?!”

Shindou rubbed your back soothingly, a slight smirk on his face. “It's alright Y/N,” he said. “Now you know better, and you can probably beat him next time you go against him.”

You lifted your head, and his smirk vanished and was replaced with a smile. You sent him a soft smile, saying, “Thank you, Shindou. This was actually helpful. Think we can do this more often?”

He reached up to ruffle your hair, briefly blocking your view of his face as the smirk returned. “Of course! If you ever wanna go over a training exercise or something else you guys did in class, feel free to reach out.”

You sat up fully and leaned over to pull Shindou into a hug. You buried your face into his shoulder. Shindou blinked in surprise, his smirk dropping, but immediately returned the hug. For a brief moment, he felt a twinge of guilt, and considered telling you his real intentions. He shook his head, dismissing the thought and pulling you closer. They’ll understand eventually, he reasoned to himself.

Over the next couple of months, you'd taken Shindou up on his offer multiple times. After eventful Heroics classes, sparring sessions, or days where you just trained your Quirk, you'd call Shindou or visit his place to talk yourself through the experience. You'd go over the matches you'd win, detailing what strategies you'd used so you could understand which worked and which didn't. You extensively covered the matches you'd lost, analyzing together what your opponents did that got the best of you. Shindou would occasionally interject with his own ideas of how you could have utilized your Quirk, but for the most part he guided you to talk on your own.

When the time came to do your internship, you'd decided to join Yoroi Musha, who—just as Shindou had told you—extended you an offer to join him at his agency. Unfortunately, Shindou’s internship would occur in a different week, so the two of you did not get the chance to work together. Regardless, he continued to encourage you via text when you were free. Your regular analysis was put on a temporary halt, as you were getting plenty of feedback on your performance from your new mentor. Shindou, interestingly enough, did not reach out and offer to begin the conversation as much during this week, even though he was normally very enthusiastic in doing so. You shrugged this off, not seeing this as very unusual. After all, end of term exams had been approaching, and he was probably busy studying. This was a relatively new arrangement, after all.

When your end of term exams passed, however, his enthusiasm returned full force. He insisted you analyze the practical portion of the exam with very close attention to detail.

“After all,” he suggested, “it's not every day you get to fight against a Pro Hero.”

Finding no fault in his logic, you agreed. Interestingly enough, the direction he took when guiding your analysis wasn't what you expected. Rather than focus on the strategies you used against Midnight, Shindou had you focus on how well you worked with your teammate, and how you utilized both of your Quirks to your advantage. It all made sense why, however, after hearing him explain that in the field you'd likely find yourself having to improvise with a partner you haven't worked with before.

“But aren't we going to be partners?” you interjected, eyebrow raised as you teased him.

“Yeah, of course,” he nonchalantly responded. “But there might be times when we get separated for whatever reasons. You gotta learn to work with other people, you know?”

And after detailing how you were able to work together with Sero to win the match, that was the last analysis discussion the two of you would have. You told him about how your class would be going on a forest lodge trip during the summer, so you wouldn't be able to visit until you got back. He pouted when you told him, making you promise you'd visit as soon as you got back.

You giggled, pulling him in for a hug. “Of course!” You leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek, laughing as he blushed. “I know you'll get lonely without me, so I promise not to leave you alone for too long!” Shindou shook his head, muttering under his breath about you being embarrassing, but returned the hug. So you left, with the promise of a swift return and the sharing of any cool stories that happened over the summer.

And then the training camp was attacked. And your classmate was kidnapped. And you, without hesitation, joined your classmates in the rescue attempt. And though your rescue was successful, and you escaped without serious injury, and the villain that leveled the ward, leaving little behind was defeated—

It was all too much. You needed to get away, even if only briefly.

While the teachers made their rounds informing parents of the new dorms on campus, you made your way to Shindou’s apartment. Giving his mother the usual polite greeting, you were startled at her suddenly pulling you into a hug.

“We were so happy,” she said, voice wavering as she held back tears, “to hear that you were safe, Y/N.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes, a soft smile on her face. “Yo is in his room. I know you came here to see him and not deal with me crying, so go on ahead.” She shooed you off in the direction of Shindou’s room, so you left her alone. You made your way to his room to see the door cracked open. You were about to announce your presence and walk in, when you heard another voice in the room.

“Wow, you got all that from one person?” The voice was male and was clearly coming from a phone speaker. You stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt his phone call, so you stood outside the door and waited for his to finish.

“Yeah, I have a friend in class 1-A over there, and they’ve told me a bunch about their classmates and their Quirks,” you heard Shindou say. “Strengths, weaknesses, fighting styles. All of it.”

“Wow! For real?” exclaimed the voice on the other end. “Are they trying to set up their class to fail or something?”

Shindou laughed in response. “Nah, I don't think they know that the license exam is a competition yet. We've been having these conversations so they can ‘improve their strategy’ when fighting. Which, to be fair,” he said, oh so casually like he wasn't breaking your trust and heart with every word, “we technically are. That's just...not the whole reason, is all.”

A moment of silence from the person on the other end, and you swear you could heart your heart pounding in your ears as the weight of how you'd been betrayed settled on you. The license exam? That’s why he'd been helping you? While you thought you were bonding with someone you'd known your whole life, he was gathering info to use against your class in an exam. To become a hero.

“...Huh. Your friend sounds kinda gullible,” the person on the other end, who you could only guess was one of Shindou’s classmates, finally responded. You scoffed quietly, shaking your head. Gullible. Because it was so wrong to trust that kind of info with someone you shared everything with? With someone who promised you to always be at your side and support you?

At Shindou’s laugh and the response of, “Maybe,” you'd decided you'd heard enough. You stood in front of the door, taking in a deep breath. You wiped at the tears in your eyes, swallowed down the burning pain in your throat, and hesitantly knocked at the door. Silence on the other side. “...Hey, I'll call you back later, okay?” you heard Shindou say into the phone. He must have turned off the speaker, as you heard no response before footsteps made their way to the door, which slowly opened to reveal Shindou on the other side.

Once he saw you, his eyes widened and he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/N,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to rest on the back of your head. “You’re okay...” Feeling the burning pain in your throat return, you resisted the urge to shove him away and yell at him over everything you'd overheard. Instead, you hesitantly raised your arms and returned the hug, embracing the warm feeling and trying to gain some sense of comfort in it. You didn't find much.

He eventually pulled away, frowning down at you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “We were already worried enough when we heard your camp got attacked, but you had to go off and pull some stupid stunt that nearly got yourself killed again?” At your confused look, Shindou’s gaze narrowed on you. “Your dad called my mom. We know about how you and some classmates of yours rescued that Bakugou kid.” He let out a shaky sigh, his grip on your shoulders tightening. He closed his eyes tightly. “Just...don't do something that reckless again.” His eyes opened, and he gave you a small smile. “I can't be part of the best hero duo if my partner goes and gets themself killed, right?”

Still hurt over both his betrayal and how he had the nerve to act concerned about you after just bragging about how he tricked you, it took a bit of effort to put on a convincing smile. You knew, with how long the two of you had known each other, that it wouldn't be enough to convince him, so you pulled him into another hug so he wouldn't have to see it. “I’m fine. I promise I won't do anything like that again. You don't need to worry...”

He pulled away, giving a quick ruffle to your hair before he reached down to grab a bag on the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. “Good. Listen, as much as I’d love to stay, you kinda caught me at a bad time. I have to get back to the agency—my internship actually starts today!” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, and you did your best not to let the fluttering feeling in your chest make you forget what he did to you. “I’ll see ya soon, Y/N!” He waved and jogged over to leave his apartment after saying goodbye to his mother.

You let out a shaky breath once he was gone, the tension of holding in your emotion almost overwhelming. You wanted nothing more at that moment than to go home and have a nice cry session in your room, curtains drawn, with your favorite music playing at full volume. Before you could make your way to the exit, however, you were stopped by a call from Shindou’s mother.

“Oh wait, Y/N, before you go!” She stood in front of you, a DVD case in her hand. “I just found out the other day that Yo never let you see what happened in his school’s Sports Festival!”

Your eyes zeroed in on the blank DVD case, wide in surprise. “Huh. He never even told me that they had one....” Which, now that you thought about it, seemed silly. Every school had a Sports Festival. Especially every hero school. And while most weren't broadcasted, like UA’s and Shiketsu’s were, they would certainly record events for parents to view, right?

Shindou’s mother rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Honestly, I can't imagine why not. He did excellently this year! Sure, there were a few moments he was embarrassed about, but we all watched your performance!” She handed you the DVD case. “Here, we had a spare copy, so I think you should have this one. Enjoy!” She hugged you before sending you on your way, making sure to call out a “Stay safe!” before you closed the door.

Standing outside the apartment, you stared down at the DVD case in your hands. On the disc, you'd be able to watch Shindou and his classmates’ Quirks in action. See how they fight, how they strategize, how they act. Every bit of information Shindou coerced from you, you would be able to watch. And his mother had handed it over with a smile on her face.

A grin developed, and you snickered to yourself. This? This would even the odds. You pulled out your phone, pressing on Midoriya’s contact before typing out a text. ‘Hey, you like analyzing Quirks, right? I have something you might be interested in watching...’

A manic grin was on your face as you dodged a ball thrown by a Ketsubutsu student. Your plan was working perfectly. Your classmates had been thoroughly informed of the Quirks and fighting styles of Ketsubutsu’s class 2-2. While you'd all been caught slightly off guard at how most of the examinees immediately targeted your class, you very quickly recovered and fought back.

You had to suppress a cackle when you saw Tokoyami strike at Nakagame, who quickly collapsed her torso into herself using her Quirk to dodge, only to be struck by Ojiro while her vision was obscured. Midoriya was spot on with his analysis, and your classmates had clearly paid close attention. For every strike they made, your class countered with peak efficiency. Even as Shindou’s Quirk scattered the class, they had prepared beforehand for this scenario and were not too shaken by the attack.

You hit the third target on a Ketsubutsu student, laughing all the while. “One down, one to go!” you cheered, quickly scanning the area to see if any other examinees were nearby. Upon spotting a familiar mess of brown hair out of the corner of your eye, you quickly spun to face Shindou, who was looking at you from a distance away. You got in a stance, ready to fight against him if he attacked. Shindou’s eyes narrowed, glancing between you and his classmate who you'd just defeated. His mouth settled into a frown, and he turned and ran to another area of the stadium.

You'd wanted to smirk at him, taunt him for being outsmarted by your class, but you instead found yourself mirroring his expression and his silence. You'd gotten him back after he tricked you; you should have been happy, right? Proud of yourself? Despite reasoning this to yourself, however, a growing weight filled the void your pride left.

You shook your head, breaking yourself from your thoughts. You didn't have time to think about how seeing Shindou had made you feel. You had one more student to eliminate. You could focus on him later.

Your name was there. On the list, plain as day for all to read. You'd gotten your license, and all your hard work, all the late-night analysis with Midoriya, all the heartache you'd felt over Shindou’s betrayal was worth it.

Your eyes drifted slightly, and you spotted “Shindou Yo” somewhere else on the list. You supposed all of Shindou’s preparation paid off for him, too.

After obtaining your license, you followed the rest of your class to the bus to return to the dorms. Before boarding, you caught sight of Shindou again. He was speaking to Nakagame, you noticed you and gave an awkward smile and wave. Shindou turned to see who she was waving at, and his eyes widened when he saw you. You two stared each other down for a brief moment, before you broke the tension by turning to board the bus.

The weight in your chest felt heavier now.

The weight of the many presents you carried in your arms was only slightly heavier than the dread settling in your gut. Unwilling to admit to the tensions between you and Shindou, you couldn't come up with a plausible excuse to break the tradition your families had held for many years. Based on the warm greeting Shindou’s parents gave you when they finally answered the door, you assumed that Shindou hadn't told his parents either. You stepped inside and let the warm air rush over you, bringing feeling back into your numb fingertips and increasing the unnerving feeling in you.

“Shindou, don't be rude! Help Y/N out with those presents! Poor thing looks like they’re about to drop them,” Shindou’s mom scolded him, drawing your attention to where he'd been standing in the far corner of the room, partially obscured by the Christmas tree. You saw his mouth settle into a firm line; not quite a frown, but definitely showing discomfort. He pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and made his way over to you. As he held out his hands to you, you stared at him dumbfoundedly. Here he was, standing in front of you after months of not speaking to each other, and he doesn't even say hello.

You were broken out of your thoughts by him clearing his throat. “You gonna hand them over, or...?” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow. You startled a bit, nearly dropping a present or two with how quickly you shoved the pile into his arms. As you saw him struggle to keep the pile balanced, you flushed in embarrassment and walked away, moving over to where your parents were engaged in a jovial conversation with Shindou’s.

Shindou’s mom saw you and smiled, holding out two steaming mugs of hot chocolate to you. “Just in time! I made these just the way you two like them. Oh, careful!” she warned, handing them over to you. “They're still pretty hot. Well, not that that would be an issue for you, but still...Anyway, why don't the two of you catch up on your own? We haven't seen you in a while, so I'm sure you have a lot to talk about!”

The cheer in her smile was something you couldn't help but smile and nod in return at, taking the mugs from her with a soft “Thanks,” and making your way over to the couch by the tree, where Shindou was sitting.

His eyes followed you the whole way over, not looking away as you approached. You, on the other hand, struggled to meet his eyes as you handed his mug to him. He accepted it, giving you a small nod before taking a sip. You stood where you were, bringing the cup to your lips to take a sip when you noticed his raised eyebrow. You returned it, asking, “What?” He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to the empty seat on the couch next to him. You blinked. An “oh” left your lips, and you slowly moved to sit in the small space next to him on the couch.

As you settled into your spot, you tried leaving a small amount of space between you two, though your knee still brushed against his. You spared a glance over at Shindou, only to see him staring intently at the mug in his hands. A small sigh left your lips, and you raised your mug to take a sip. The scalding feeling on your tongue, while not capable of actually hurting you, was a comfortable distraction from the awkward situation you found yourself in. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, with the only sounds heard being the distant chatter of your parents and the low hum of the heater. It was awkward, yes, but neither of you had mentioned the obvious source of tension yet. Maybe, you thought, today wouldn't be too unbearable.

“So, Y/N...” Shindou began, breaking the silence and shattering all your hopes of the evening being salvaged. “I think we both know exactly how my classmates got their info on yours...”

You snorted, lifting the mug to your lips. “Yeah, I know.” You took a long sip, hoping the burning feeling traveling down your throat might push down the angry words that wanted to come out. “Something about a ‘gullible friend in 1-A who doesn't realize this is all a competition’, right?” It didn't help much.

For a moment you thought you saw him cringe, and you heard a mutter along the lines of “...didn’t think you’d hear that...” before seeing him shake his head. “Anyway, I wanted to know how your class seemed so ready for the exam. You all were so coordinated with your attacks, like you knew our Quirks and strategies beforehand.”

You hummed, before raising an eyebrow and shooting him a smirk. “You know, I don't really think I owe you an explanation after what you did.”

Shindou visibly deflated, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Yeah, that's fair.”

You nodded with him. “But!” you began, a grin forming when you saw him perk up. “You probably know better than anyone how much I love bragging whenever I beat you at your own game.” Shindou pulled a face somewhere between a grimace and a smile, seemingly happy he'd get his answer yet embarrassed at the reminder of how thoroughly his plan failed. “Remember that day I dropped by after the Kamino Ward attack, and you headed off to your internship?” At his nod, your grin turned devious. “Well, your mother oh so graciously offered to let me watch the footage from your school’s Sports Festival this year. She gave me a spare DVD.”

His eyes widened comically, glancing over to where his parents were, causing you to cackle. “Seriously?” he asked. “That's all it took? We couldn't even get that much info from your Sports Festival, that's why we came up with that whole scheme in the first place!”

You nodded. “True, but I guess you all don't have a strategist like Midoriya in your class.”

Shindou raised an eyebrow. “The bone-breaking kid?”

You waved a hand. “He doesn't do that anymore. At least, not that often...but that's beside the point. I texted him about the DVD, let him borrow it, and he came up with plans to counter your classmates in the exam.”

Shindou blinked, processing your words. “Wow,” he started. He blinked a few more times before taking a sip from his mug. “That was pretty smart, I guess. He even planned for Makabe and Tokegi’s joint attack, and they've been working on that since the first year!”

You gave a confused hum, not quite sure who he was referring to before it hit you. “Oh! The ones with the boomerang and hardening Quirks, right?” At his nod, you grinned at the opportunity to ramble about strategy. “Well, the boomerang Quirk is kinda similar to Snipe-sensei’s, and we’ve had experience dodging his Quirk before. Also, while the hardening Quirk isn't exactly like my classmate Kirishima’s, it seemed like the hardness was similar enough. And since Ashido accidentally burned Kirishima once in a training accident even though he was using his Quirk, we figured if her acid was corrosive enough it could get past your classmate’s Quirk easily enough.” You paused your take a breath, devious grin widening further. “You all didn't take the corrosiveness into account because she kept it pretty low for the Sports Festival, and when you fished information from me about her I didn't know how corrosive it could be. We were pretty lucky on that part, but I still think we could've done just as well even if you had known.”

Shindou nodded. “You're right, then. You really did beat me at my own game.” He smiled at you and lightly nudged you with his elbow. “Not bad, Y/N.”

You smiled back, before the burning feeling in your chest returned with full force. Your smile dropped, and you turned away from him again. “Yeah, well, me outsmarting you after you tricked me doesn't exactly mean what you did was okay.” You clenched the mug tightly in your grip, bringing it close to your chest. The hot chocolate had gone cold during your conversation, and you stared down into it while trying to ignore the stinging tears in your eyes. “You said we’d be heroes together. Partners. What kind of hero sabotages their partner?”

Shindou’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for what to say. “Y/N, I didn't...I mean, I wasn't trying to—“ he stammered, before you cut him off.

“But you did,” you cut him off. The mug trembled in your hands as you accidentally used your quirk, and steam began rising from it again. “You took my trust and used it against me and my classmates. And for what? There were so many other schools there you could've gone after. Hell, we could've teamed up and gone after them together! But it was more convenient to just use me, I guess.”

Shindou’s frown deepened. He reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, only to quickly retract with a hiss at the heat you were giving off. Startled, you quickly stopped using your Quirk and gave him an apologetic frown. “Sorry,” you muttered. You sighed deeply, leaning your head back against the couch. “I guess I'm no better, huh? Your parents were being nice and I took advantage of that...”

Silence hung in the air. Both of your parents had left the room a while ago, and the droning of the heater settled into the background unnoticed. Shindou’s hand found its way to your shoulder again, more hesitant this time. When you didn't respond or shrug him off, he slowly pulled you closer to him, hand moving to your head and gently resting it on his shoulder. You frowned, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again, but didn't resist.

“I'm sorry,” Shindou said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You snuggled closer to him in response, staying quiet. He lightly ran his fingers through your hair. When he was sure you weren't going to say anything in response, he continued, “Not that it means much to say this now, but congratulations on getting your license.” You snorted at the statement, many months too late. He lightly chuckled, saying, “Yeah, I know. But even though we haven't exactly been working together, it's been nice having you at the agency. Nakagame won't shut up about her ‘cute new sidekick’, even though we’re all sidekicks.”

You snickered. “Looks like I'm stealing your friend. Maybe she'll be my hero partner when we graduate...”

Shindou rolled his eyes. “If anything, she's trying to steal you from me. Not like that’s gonna happen. You're my partner, got that?”

You lifted your head slightly from his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh, am I now?”

Shindou nodded. “I promised you, didn't I? I know I've been a major idiot lately,” he started, ignoring your muttered comment of “Yeah, no kidding...” and continuing, “but if the two of us work together we’re gonna top the charts in no time.”

You smiled at him, leaning back on his shoulder. “Well, I'm looking forward to that!” You closed your eyes and let out a breath, feeling the tension wash away from you. Shindou’s head tilted, resting atop yours. Things weren't perfect, and you would probably need to have a more in-depth conversation later, but for now, things were better.

“Oh, Shindou?”

“Hm?”

“I gotta say, your performance at the Sports Festival could've been better. We have a lot of work to do if we're gonna top the charts.”

“...Shut up...”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shindou yo #shindou yo x reader #shindou you #shindou you x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years

Text

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 9

AN: a slightly longer one today guys, got myself all emotional with the rowaelin here and i hope it gets you too

masterlist - ao3

------

“He was friendly when he first came in,” Chaol’s normally subdued tone was full of energy as he spun his tale, eyes wide with excitement as he looked towards Aelin. “But then so quickly he goes completely crazy, shouting and ranting so loud in my face that Maeve has to come in and see what the problem is.”

Yrene laughed fondly at her husband as she rested a hand on his shoulder where she sat across the wooden staff room table from Aelin, “You could hear it all the way down the corridor.”

Aelin laughed as she took in Chaol’s wide eyed expression and Dorian’s restrained laughter, Yrene’s gentle grin and Nehemia’s cool smirk.

Her first parent-teacher conference at the new school was this evening, and to her absolute delight, her friends were busy spinning their horror stories. Admittedly, she was nervous for the event, and even though it wasn’t her first time it was always an unnerving experience at a new school. It was her opportunity to introduce herself to the parents as Miss Galathynius and show them who she was, what she had, and to prove to them that she was the best choice for their children.

Realistically, she knew she had no reason to be nervous, her class were a great group of children, they all tried hard and engaged enthusiastically with her lessons, but meeting their parents for the first time was important. Making her first impression as an educator was important, and she knew that people sometimes unfairly judged her. At her previous school she knew some of the parents had made some unfair and incorrect assumptions about her but she had tried not to let it bother her. Had tried to brush off their barely hidden insults about her styles of teaching and even her choices of clothing. She couldn’t change peoples’ opinions but she could try to change their lasting impressions of herself.

Dorian had assured her that the majority of the parents at the school were great, most were pretty chilled out as long as their child wasn’t falling too far behind, which Aelin knew hers weren’t. That said, it was Dorian who had prompted the story time session in the break room, wordlessly picking up on her nervousness and launching into every horror story he could remember from his years teaching.

Since their ill-fated affair he had cemented his place in her life as one of her closest friends, rivalling only Lysandra in level of familiarity and they had spent an increasing amount of time together. From coffee runs to lounging around the loft watching movies she enjoyed every moment they spent together and she was comfortable that there was no remaining awkwardness from their brief tangle.

She hadn’t told anyone the outcome of their date yet, she hadn’t had much time to catch up with Lysandra since, and it wasn’t something she was particularly keen to tell her roommates. As much as she loved them there were times that their typical guy nature made her hesitant to share, and her failure to sleep with her date was not something she felt like sharing with them.

She was especially reluctant to share that piece of information with Rowan, he had told her to forget about their moment in the kitchen, and she had tried. It just hadn’t worked out quite as she had planned. But she was resolved, she would get over him, and if having him think she was dating Dorian told him she was, she wasn’t complaining.

“It took five minutes for us to even figure out what he was yelling about.” Chaol continued, flashing her an exasperated look.

“Which was?” Aelin asked, already grinning in anticipation of whatever ridiculous answer Chaol could give.

In her experience Chaol was a by-the-book teacher. She liked him, he was pretty smart, straightforward and an involved and ambitious teacher, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything deserving of being shouted at by a parent.

“Chaol had, completely unreasonably,” Dorian drawled sarcastically, tossing his unstarted apple between his palms, “decided to offer his students a quiz for the last class of the week instead of one more hour of curriculum teaching.”

Yrene sketched a mocking gasp and Nehemia held a hand to her chest as she rolled her eyes at the story.

“Could you imagine such a thing?” She laughed, eyes dancing with mirth as she grinned over to Aelin.

Aelin shook her head in mock horror at Chaol, unable to fully hide her smile as she laughed along.

“How could you?” She asked, half laughing at the absurdity of the parent’s rage and half at Chaol’s over the top attempt at a dejected expression. “You aren’t actually making me feel any better about later, by the way.”

Yrene reached over to squeeze her shoulder, “You don’t need us to do that, they will all love you I’m sure.”

Aelin needed more of Yrene’s optimism in her life and admittedly the woman’s kind smile was infectious. She was also right, why wouldn’t they love her?

------

The documentary on the television hadn’t fully captured Rowan’s attention, it was something about an animal in the rainforest and he had missed the part where it’s name was given, but it would do for a lazy afternoon while the rest of his roommates were at work. The afternoons were one of his favourite times of the day, he had the loft to himself to read or watch or listen to whatever he wanted in the usually shared spaces rather than his ordinarily messy and somewhat cramped bedroom.

Being the only one of his roommates to not work in the daytimes had its ups and downs, the freedom and space was a definite pro, but sometimes it could be lonely sitting around the loft on his own, and the days Lorcan was off with him after working a shift were often ones he enjoyed the most. His friend had a sarcastic and wicked sense of humour that worked well with Rowan’s relatively blunt demeanor. He’d never tell him that though.

Of everyone in the loft he had known Lorcan for the shortest amount of time. Technically, but he didn’t count the years of Aelin being in his periphery as knowing her. They had met through Fenrys, and Rowan wasn’t convinced that even Fenrys knew how he had come to be friends with the surly male, their personalities weren’t ones Rowan would have expected to be friends, but years later Lorcan had managed to cement himself as one of Rowan’s closest friends.

He checked the time on his phone as the sound of the loft front door caught his attention, none of his roommates should be at the loft at this time.

Seconds later Aedion came into view, already shucking off his tie before launching himself onto the couch next to Rowan with a deep sigh. Rowan slowly turned his head towards his best friend, waiting for him to reopen his eyes before raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He began. “But why are you here?”

Aedion laughed before rolling forwards to sit upright on the sofa.

“Turned in the final piece for one of our biggest accounts this morning so we all got the afternoon off.”

“Nice,” Rowan nodded, Aedion probably worked the hardest of all of them in the loft. He worked for a marketing firm that had a bunch of high profile clients and he spent many nights in the office working overtime. Rowan shared those unpopular hours, but was grateful he didn’t have the early mornings too. “What are you doing for the rest of the day then?”

Aedion shrugged. “Thought I could spend some quality time with you my friend. Maybe find out what you wanted to talk to me about the other day.”

Aedion’s smirk was predatory, and Rowan felt like a deer in the headlights. He opened his mouth then closed it again.

He had been more than lucky to have gotten away with it for so long, he was surprised Aedion had managed the few days of Rowan saying nothing before giving in and straight up asking.

Since Aelin��s date with Dorian the man’s presence had become a regular feature of the loft, each visit reducing Rowan’s desire to admit any of his feelings about Aelin to anyone, let alone Aelin herself. He had tried to avoid being in the room when they were snuggling on the couch or had quickly changed the topic when he had come up in conversation.

Message received. He was at least glad that Aelin seemed happy, and it was his own fault that it wasn’t with him. He had told her to forget it ever happened and she had. Why Aedion wanted to make him talk about it now was anyone’s guess, he just wanted to deal with it alone. Preferably by not thinking about it, or at least trying not to.

“Oh nothing,” He brushed it off. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Aedion raised a golden eyebrow, unimpressed with Rowan’s clear denial and he winced internally. He should have known better than to assume Aedion would have been satisfied with that.

“Are you sure?” Aedion’s question was all too innocent. “You sure it wasn’t about anyone in particular?”

Rowan gritted his teeth, knowing he was just going to have to let this play out.

Aedion took a moment, pretending to ponder his next words and letting Rowan stew in his anticipation. “Not even my darling cousin?”

Rowan felt his cheeks begin to burn as he chewed on the inside of his lip. Aedion was a smug son of a bitch, smiling at Rowan like a cat who got the cream.

Rowan took a deep breath in. “Don’t fucking tell anyone, okay.”

Aedion’s expression dropped into something slightly more serious.

“Pinky swear,” Aedion grinned at him and Rowan flashed him a glare.

“I’m definitely not saying anything if you’re not being serious.”

Aedion cleared his throat, making a show of sobering his expression. “I’m serious, okay, now go.”

“So you clearly know something went down between me and Aelin,” That was as good a place to start as any he supposed. “How did you even find out about that?”

“Lysandra.” Aedion’s voice was almost dopey as he said the woman’s name. Gross, even though he was happy for his friend it was gross.

“Nice to know you and your girlfriend have nothing better to do than gossip about me.” Rowan frowned.

“Believe me, we have better things to do,” Aedion’s grin took over his whole face. “It’s just when we’re done we move on to pitying you…”

“I said be serious.” Rowan said bluntly, embarrassed enough as it was.

“Sorry, sorry.” Aedion held his hands up. “Continue.”

“There isn’t much more to be said.” He paused, realising the almost uncomfortable truth in his own words. “She’s moved past it anyway, like I told her too, so that’s it. We’re good, no danger of that.”

The look Aedion gave him was pure pity and Rowan looked away fast.

“Ro,” His friend’s voice was soft as he said his name, but he struggled for anything more, clearly reading Rowan better than he ever wanted to be read.

Rowan shrugged. “It’s fine, we’re all good.”

Aedion opened his mouth to speak but Rowan interrupted before he could get a word out.

“You need to tell her about you and Lysandra.” He could only see the secret ending in disaster, and now he was involved. He owed it to Aedion to keep the secret, but the guilt of keeping it from Aelin was eating away at him.

Aedion sighed, “I know. We will, soon. It’s just, when? You know?”

“You need to do it soon.” Rowan told him, feeling somewhat like a parent scolding a child. “You’re only going to upset her, and keeping it all a secret longer is just going to make it worse.”

Aedion looked down to the couch they sat on, avoiding Rowan’s eyes.

“I know.” He sighed.

“I don’t want her to get hurt.” It was as much as Rowan was willing to admit out loud.

“I don’t either.” Aedion’s tone was defensive and Rowan sighed.

“Now,” He began, pushing off the couch and standing above his friend. “I have a shift at the bar, you coming?”

Aedion half-smiled up at him. “Alright, but I’m not paying for any of my drinks.”

Rowan scoffed, “When do you ever?”

Aedion rose to his feet, shrugging, “Just making sure.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, feeling as Aedion always made him feel, relaxed and amused with the usual hint of mild irritation.

------

The evening had passed relatively quickly, all of the parents she had met so far had been lovely and were well engaged in their children’s lives and education which Aelin always appreciated. She only had one parent left to meet, the father of her student Evangeline, a bubbly young girl who Aelin adored. The young girl was inquisitive and tried hard with anything Aelin threw at them, a perfect student in Aelin’s eyes.

A knock on her classroom door sounded and she jumped to her feet, calling out for them to come in as she rose. The man who came through her doorway was striking, his golden hair shone and his green eyes were bright. He was dressed in a sharp grey suit, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his tie was missing.

He held a hand out for her to shake and she caught a brief glance of a tattoo on his wrist, one that looked almost like a snake, peeking past his expensive looking watch.

“Archer Finn,” His voice was low and smooth, as he flashed her a polished smile.

“Aelin Galathynius,” She shook his hand firmly and smiled widely. “Please, take a seat.”

The man slid smoothly into the seat opposite her, and she forced her mind to focus on the task at hand, and reminded herself that this was one of her student’s fathers. No sign of a ring, her unhelpful mind added.

“Thank you, Miss Galathynius,” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you about Evangeline’s progress.”

Aelin grinned. “As have I, Evangeline is a fantastic student, the passion she displays in the classroom is phenomenal. Her artwork-- she displays a level of true talent.”

“Yes,” His tone was clipped. “That is what I have been hoping to talk to you about.”

Aelin felt her smile freeze.

“Evangeline will not be participating in any art activities from this point onwards, I don’t believe they are of any value. To put it bluntly, they’re a complete waste of time.”

Aelin was frozen, paused in a state of shock at the man’s words.

“I unfortunately have to disagree--”

He held a hand up to stop her and she recoiled.

“Please, Miss Galathynius,” He huffed out a condescending laugh and Aelin felt her blood begin to boil. “As her father I believe I know what is best for Evangeline.”

“And what is that?” She asked dryly.

Archer Finn seemed to take a moment, raking his eyes from her head to her toe before meeting her gaze again. She could tell the look hadn’t been one of appreciation and she bristled.

“What Evangeline needs is a teacher who takes her education seriously, someone who understands that painting her pretty pictures is a waste of time.” The sarcasm in his voice had her clenching her jaw, but she tried to rein in her temper, remembering that she was still new to the school.

“Mr Finn, I--”

He held a hand to her face again and stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he did, and Aelin slowly rose out of her chair.

“Mr Finn, I have a masters degree in children’s education, I know the value of creativity in learning.” Aelin could hardly keep her voice steady as she spoke, barely concealing the anger the man in front of her had managed to unleash inside her in such a short space of time.

The man seemed to sneer at her words, looking down his nose at her as he frowned.

“You may well have, and I’m sure it was worth every penny to you.” He smirked at her, crushing her with only a handful of words. “Either way, Evangeline will be seeing a private tutor during your creative hours.”

The scorn in his voice burned her, hitting her in a deep part of her soul that wasn’t often exposed. She knew she was right, knew that she knew what Evangeline needed, knew that her methods of teaching had merit and worth. This sad excuse for a father was blind and arrogant if he thought he knew better than Aelin, but she was trapped. What more could she say to change his mind?

In her silence he had crossed the room to pause by the door before turning back to look at her where she stood dumbfounded behind her desk, clenching her fists at her sides and trying to compose herself.

“I’m glad we had this chat, Miss Galathynius.” With that he was gone, taking his smug and condescending atmosphere with him.

Her breath rushed out of her in a gust, burning her throat as she held back the tears that threatened to fall. She couldn’t believe him, Mr Finn. The audacity he had to walk into her classroom and speak to her like that.

She dropped back into her seat, resting both of her hands against the cool wood of her desk and focussing on all the knots and whorls in the wood, breathing deeply in and out as she centred her thoughts. She almost couldn’t believe how her evening had ended up and she let out a brief snort at the idea that maybe her story could now beat Chaol’s from this morning.

A knock at her door snapped her to attention, if Mr Finn had come back for another go at her she wouldn’t be able to bite her tongue this time. Her fears were sedated when a familiar head of dark curls poked around the door frame.

Dorian’s smile was bright and easy as he walked towards her, perching on the front of one of her student's desks.

“So?” He asked as he crossed his ankles in front of himself, the portrait of a male completely at ease.

Aelin only shook her head, unable to sum up her final visit in a few words.

“Have you ever taught Evangeline Finn?” She managed, hating how destroyed she sounded even to her own ears.

Dorian barely managed to cover his wince.

“Ah,” He sighed. “You met Archer Finn. How bad was it?”

She looked at the floor, holding back the flood that wanted to break through, she refused to cry in school over a parent, no matter how much he had riled her up.

“Bad,” She managed but her voice betrayed her, letting a crack rip through the word.

Dorian was around the desk and at her side within a second, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“What did he say?” Dorian asked, his tone gentle as if not to startle her.

Aelin sniffed. “Oh you know, the usual, dismissing my teaching and belittling my degree.”

She let out a self-deprecating laugh as she looked to Dorian whose brow creased at her words.

“Don’t listen to him. You know he’s not right.” She knew his words were earnest, but they couldn’t keep the doubt at bay and she shrugged out of his hold.

“I don’t know,” She looked away.

“Come on,” Dorian tried. “Let’s get a drink or something, take your mind off it.”

“Thanks, Dorian. But I think I just want to go home and be alone.”

Dorian’s mouth twisted as he considered it, probably weighing up whether or not to try again. Eventually he relented.

“Text me if you need anything, okay? I’m here for you.”

She lightly squeezed his hand before rising to pack up her things. His offer hadn’t tempted her, she did want to be alone, but maybe a drink wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

------

The bar was relatively busy, a few customers every so often had him drifting in and out of conversation with Aedion. Lorcan had joined Aedion at the bar not long after they arrived, grumbling about something or other that Rowan soon avoided, turning back to another customer after dropping off Lorcan’s pint.

A brief lull allowed him to drift back to his friends, wiping down a few spills along the bar as he went.

“It’s the fucking worst, all right.” The dark-haired giant complained, words muffled by the strong hand he ran down his face.

Rowan turned to Aedion for explanation who merely shrugged before lifting his empty glass to Rowan. He grabbed it and turned to refill it as Lorcan spoke again.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this, stupid regulations and reforms.”

Lorcan was clearly in a talking mood tonight. Rowan met Aedion’s eyes, a silent challenge, begging the blond man to speak first but Aedion just leaned back in his seat, taking a large gulp of his beer. Rowan flicked him the middle finger before turning to Lorcan.

“What is?”

Lorcan turned the force of his glare to Rowan who shifted against the unexpected heat.

“My stupid boss.”

“What about them?” Aedion finally joined in.

Lorcan sighed, a frustrated sound as if explaining it would be hard work. Rowan grinned a sharp flash of teeth at Aedion who rolled his eyes at their friend’s dramatics.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to drink.” Lorcan finished his drink in a final swig, placing the glass before Rowan ceremoniously.

Rowan scooped it up, sketching a mocking salute at his friend. “That, we can do.”

As he turned he spotted Fenrys making his way over from the door and he grabbed another glass to fill as the golden-haired man took his seat. He dumped the drinks in front of his friends with little finesse as Fenrys spoke.

“Why is Aelin sitting in the corner on her own?”

Aelin?

“Aelin’s here?” Aedion asked as the four of them turned to look where Fenrys had pointed.

Sure enough, Aelin was tucked away in a booth in the corner of the room. He hadn’t noticed her come in and Rowan could see the glum expression on her face even from a distance.

“Is she okay?” He managed.

“She doesn’t look okay.”

The three of them swivelled to look at Lorcan, matching looks of disbelief across each of their faces.

“Has she said anything to any of you?” Fenrys asked. “Anything to Lysandra?” With a look to Aedion who shook his head.

“Should we go over?” Aedion asked, an unsure twist to his mouth.

“If she wanted to sit with us she’d be here.” Lorcan said bluntly.

“Shut up, asshole.” Rowan narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take her a drink.”

-------

The glass of wine was cool in his hand as he made his way across the bar, skirting round tables of customers as he went.

“Hey,” His voice was soft as he reached Aelin’s booth, lingering by the edge of the table as she looked up at him.

His heart jolted at the expression she wore. Her beautiful blue eyes were wide and red-rimmed, her plush pink lips twisted into a pout. She swallowed before speaking and the hurt in her voice tore his heart again.

“Oh. Didn’t think you’d notice me here.” Her voice was quiet as he dropped into the seat opposite her and pushed the glass towards her.

“It’s kind of my job to notice who needs a drink,” He said equally quietly, leaning forwards and pressing his arms against the table between them. He had hoped his words would bring a smile but Aelin pursed her lips, debating, before reaching towards the glass and taking a sip.

At least there was that.

“You don’t-- I mean, you don’t have to answer... If you don’t want to, but,” He didn’t usually stumble over his words so much. “Are you okay?”

Aelin’s refusal to meet his eyes pretty much answered his question, but he still waited for her to speak.

She blew out a breath, the air teasing the fair strands of hair around her face as she looked towards the ceiling then back down to him.

“Not really.” She said as she looked away from him again.

He spared a glance over to the bar where his friends sat, watching him and Aelin, each with expressions of concern. Even Lorcan for all his grumbling before Rowan came over.

“What happened?” He asked as gently as he could.

Aelin took a sip of her wine, glancing around the bar and spotting their friends who quickly jumped back into their own conversation before resting her gaze back on him.

She shrugged, putting her glass back on the table before speaking.

“One of my student’s parents basically told me I’m a shit teacher today.”

“Aelin no,” The words left him in a rush, utterly raw in his desperation to reassure her. “Aelin, you have to know you’re not a shit teacher.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, her pout still standing strong.

“What did they say?”

“Just that my degree is worthless and that I don’t know what’s best for the kids.”

Asshole. Fucking asshole.

If he ever saw the asshole who had said those cruel words to Aelin he’d-- He didn’t know what he’d do but it would hurt.

“Aelin, don’t listen to them. That’s not true.”

“It’s not?” Her question, in combination with her soft sniffle shattered him.

He reached out to lightly grasp one of her hands in his, gently toying with her delicate fingers.

“Of course not Aelin. You’re an incredible teacher.”

She drew her hand back to take another sip of her wine.

“How would you know?” She asked. “You’ve never seen me teach.”

“I don’t need to Aelin. I know you, and you’re everything a good teacher should be. Kind, caring, patient, passionate-”

“Okay,” She interrupted.

“I’m serious Aelin, promise me you won’t believe a word that asshole said.”

She scoffed, looking away from him yet again.

“Aelin?”

“Okay, I promise.” Her tone was resigned, but at least she had agreed. He didn’t know how much help he had managed to be, but he hoped at least a small part of her had listened.

“What are you doing sitting alone anyway? You can always come to us with things like this.” He knew without a doubt that the others would agree.

She brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and Rowan’s fingers itched to follow the motion but he held his hands together, now under the table. She shrugged as a faint blush crossed her cheeks and Rowan fought the warmth blooming inside him at the sight.

“Come and drink with us.” He said, nodding his head towards where the others were sitting at the bar. “Salvaterre’s miserable too so you won’t be alone.”

At that, Aelin’s lips twitched as the hint of a smile ghosted across her face, it was the closest he had seen all night and he’d take it.

“Why?” Her voice was quiet.

“Other than the usual?” He joked and she finally cracked a real smile, small but still there, and the relief that flooded through him was like lightning. “I think it’s something about his work or his boss, I don’t really know.”

He slid himself out of the booth and held a hand out to her, his final request, if she really didn’t want to join them he could accept that, but he knew he’d still keep an eye on her for the rest of the night.

Thankfully she stood, grabbing her things and leading the way over to their friends, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods. Over her head he saw Aedion flash him a thankful smile. She flopped onto a stool next to Fenrys as Rowan slid back behind the bar.

“So,” She turned to Lorcan, barely missing a beat. “What are you crying about now?”

Lorcan didn’t hesitate before lunging into his story, his own subtle way of making sure Aelin was alright and not dwelling on her issues.

“My new boss is an asshole. Turns up in Rifthold fresh out of headquarters in somewhere called Perranth, and thinks everyone should just bow down or something. Now, first of all, I’ve never even heard of Perranth,” He paused to take a bitter swig of his beer.

“Me neither,” Fenrys chimed in.

“It’s in Terrasen,” Aelin said after a sip of her own wine. The heaviness from before didn’t weigh on her face anymore and Rowan turned to serve another customer, hiding his smile. “I think I went once when I was a kid.”

Lorcan frowned at her but Rowan could tell it lacked it’s usual heat.

“Whatever,” Lorcan continued. “The point is, I’ve worked here for years, I know Rifthold and how things are done. Captain Lochan has been here all of five minutes and apparently knows all the improvements we need to make.”

The curl of Lorcan’s lips as he hissed his boss’ name prompted a small laugh, the guy must be a total hardass to have Lorcan so riled.

“What’s wrong with the improvements?” Aelin asked and Lorcan sighed.

“Nothing is wrong with the improvements,” He muttered and Aelin finally laughed, the tinkling sound washing over Rowan and settling into his bones.

“So what’s the problem?” Aedion asked after a moment, the question that they were all thinking and Lorcan shot him a glare, this time not lacking any heat.

“The problem is the Captain. So controlling and everything has to be done in exactly their way, constantly on me about my reports as well.” He rolled his eyes, clearly over talking about his boss and Rowan couldn't help from poking the bear one last time.

“Why don’t you invite the Captain here? I don’t know any problem a free beer couldn’t solve.”

“Absolutely not.” Lorcan said, shaking his head.

“Well I, for one, want to meet the famous Captain Lochan.” Fenrys grinned. “Especially if it would annoy you so much.”

“Don’t.” Lorcan said, a hair’s width below a growl.

“Why not?” Aedion joined in and Rowan watched the smile settling on Aelin’s lips at their friends’ antics.

He shook himself, laughing along as Lorcan slugged Aedion in the shoulder.

“Maybe find something to take your mind off it?” Fenrys suggested and Rowan knew where he was going would be fun. “Get a pet or something?”

“Just watch me, boyo.” Lorcan bared his teeth around the grin threatening to take over his own face. His pretend displeasure only just winning the battle.

The smile on Aelin’s face struck him again in its beauty, and he forced his attention away from her and back to the idiots now suggesting outlandish animals Lorcan could bring home as a pet.

He bit his lip as Aelin suggested a lion in response to Aedion’s tiger and thanked the gods again that she was smiling.

------

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@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

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@woollycat22

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@illyrianwitchling

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

hmu if any tags don’t work

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scribble-fox · 3 years

Text

Secondary English Teaching in WA; An Open Letter.

I am an English teacher. I do this job because it is a calling. It’s a passion. It’s something that can make a real difference in people’s lives. But I have a problem and it’s a problem that affects all of us. I am failing to be the best I can be because there is simply too much to do.

In the first place the job of an English teacher encompasses a lot. A child needs to be able to read and write and understand sophisticated vocabulary. They need critical thinking and empathy and the ability to comprehends both fine detail and larger trends. They need creativity and accuracy and clarity and conciseness. But we also look at modern issues, new media, social values and the broad and changing landscape our students must make sense of. This stuff is all in the curriculum in grand sweeping statements up for our interpretation. We are good at our jobs. We do our best to arm our students with the skills and knowledge they need to take on the world they will head into and if only that were our only job.

Not only must we compete with rapidly changing media and the increasingly diverse set of backgrounds and beliefs, but we must individualise the learning experience for each of the 31 children in each class. If we have an hour of lesson and we manage to get into it right away without any disruptions – the children all magically sit in their seats with pens and paper out smiling eagerly and quietly up at us – that still gives us less than two minutes per student. Many of our classes contain five, six, seven – I once had 13 – students with individual education plans. This means I need to remember who needs checklists and who needs chunked instructions and who I can’t directly instruct and who needs coloured paper and who must be reminded to wear their glasses. All while managing the behaviour of 31 teenagers, many of whom have mental or emotional issues to contend with.

This is just in the classroom. Contrary to popular belief, teachers don’t go home at three o’clock and spend half their lives on holiday. A study of English teachers in NSW found the average English teacher was working 49.4 hours per week. But that includes part time teachers. Those of us on a ‘full load’ often work 55+. Each class takes planning. Each IEP needs adjustments within those. Each class takes printing and prepping and most of all, marking. The biggest problem with comparing English teachers to other secondary teachers is the marking. On average, a paper in English takes 15 minutes to mark. If you have the standard five hours of DOTT time (duties other than teaching) then you can mark 20 in a week, assuming no interruptions. But remember that a class is 31 and a teacher has many classes. Some weeks you have three or four classes worth of marking to do. And when are you supposed to make resources, find worksheets, read texts, do professional development? In what other job are you expected to spend your weekends sitting at a desk?

Then there’s the admin. More and more of it. Recently I spent an entire hour of DOTT time recording unsubmitted assessments in each student’s digital profile. Another hour I spent calling parents because a no surprises policy means you have to contact home at any hint of failure. Two hours after school filling in reports on negative behaviours and the consequences that resulted. I’ve spent my short lunch time making sure misbehaving students scrape gum from under the desks or finish off work they didn’t bother to do in class. I’m supposed to put the goal, the lesson resources, the homework and a detailed plan online for every single lesson. Forget about excursions. No one on a full English load has time for that. And job progression? There’s a reason most principals and deputies are ex Phys Ed or Math. I’ve wasted hours doing the same few professional developments over and over because they are required. I’ve had three identical sessions on how to use a particular piece of technology and I know what the process is for dealing with asbestos despite the complete irrelevance it has to my position. The kids with IEPs have a separate reporting system that requires us to comment on each curriculum point tackled. We are expected, especially if we are young, to be on committees and in working parties and be going above and beyond. We are already going above and beyond. A not-English teacher has too much work to get on with. We are being paid the same wage to do twice as much.

But it isn’t money we want. We aren’t greedy. We aren’t complaining about the pay. What we want is conditions we can work in. What we want is to be able to be the best we can be. The number one asset to education – the one thing that makes all the difference – is teachers. Teachers are the biggest factor in the success of a child’s education (See Hattie 2018) and a school’s stats, and we cannot be great teachers when we are stretched this thin. Is it any wonder really that our literacy has slipped so far? In the 2018 PISA rankings we dropped to 16th in reading. We were 8th back in 2006. 8th!

This problem compounds. With each year we are spread thinner and thinner. With each year our kids are further and further behind. And they are already coming into high school behind because primary school teachers aren’t specialists in everything. How could they be. Just because you can read and write, doesn’t mean you can teach phonics. And they are expected to cover English, Maths, Science, Humanities and Social Sciences and anything else they can’t get a specialist for. Kids also need to spread their writing between typing and digital literacy and handwriting. You wouldn’t believe how quickly their hands hurt from writing.

The problem, as it is, compounds but the plans are worse. In the name of progress, the plans in the department are to make sure kids have access to as many electives as possible. That sounds nice in theory. What this means in practice is that they lose lessons in their core subjects. One school is already paving the way for this with only three hours of English (and other core subjects) per week for lower school kids. Are they crazy? School is about creating a strong foundation to build on. Gap years are for trying things out. This tester school has been testing it for a few years now. But the test has failed. Kids are struggling. And of course, they are struggling! The English curriculum is huge. The subject is challenging. We already know that it’s too much, even to be delivered in four or five hours a week. Soon, English teachers everywhere will be expected to cram their carefully crafted courses into 3/5ths the time. Well, we won’t stand for it. Not least of all because we won’t cope. The teachers at this tester school aren’t coping. Especially when it means a fuller timetable.

How does less classes mean a fuller timetable? Well, just like for subjects with a lighter marking load, teachers are timetabled by teaching hours, not by number of classes. Instead of teaching four or five different classes. Teachers end up with six or seven. Either all lower school or the gaps are filled with subjects out of area. What does more classes and more students mean? More marking, more planning, more admin.

But there is a solution. There is a way to lift the standards of our teachers and our students in turn. Give English teachers less work. Put a cap on the number of students and classes. Make a full-time load for English teaching .8 (Hale does it!). Don’t expect out of hours work. Make less admin or provide aides to do it (Job creation?). Don’t cram curriculum into three lessons a week and fill up any extra time. Don’t interrupt the term with constant assemblies and activities. If you have to add more work, employ more people to do it. It’s simple and It makes a colossal difference.

I’m an English teacher. I dream of being able to plan interesting and innovative lessons. I long to provide the support my students need. I need to inspire. I know I can change lives. I can empower children to break free of poverty and trauma and build a future we can all be proud of. That’s what all teachers dream of but right now we are drowning. Right now, we are treading water in a vast ocean, hidden behind the waves and the swell and we are shouting to the distant shore. Hear us. Please hear us.

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dalamjisung · 4 years

Text

give me a baby ❁ choi youngjae

word count: 6667

genre: hospital!au, fluff

pairing: OBGYN!youngjae x reporter!reader

description: in which your best friend is pregnant and kick-starts your romance with her doctor.

“Come on, Minyoung-ie,” You mumble, petting her head as she cries hysterically. “Come on, stop crying, please. Auntie is sorry, but there’s nothing she can do.”

Bouncing your body to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, you do your best to calm little Minyoung down, already feeling the creeping sensation of failure in your gut. This is not true, though, and you know; it’s not your fault that the construction next door decided to pick up just as she was falling asleep. But somehow, you couldn’t help but feel as if you weren’t good at this thing– this taking care of children thing. You felt as if Minyoung, your own godchild, hated you. You weren’t her mother, why would she feel comfortable with you?

“Because I love you, too,” You whisper against her head, eyes prickling with tears. “I promise mom will come home soon, Minnie, just please be patient with me.”

You met Jihoon in your last year of high school, when he moved to your school after he got into some trouble with his old school. The rumor arrived with him, and on his second day, everyone knew about the new transfer that sent a guy to the hospital. But no one knew why. So you asked. You weren’t really an outsider, but you definitely weren’t popular; you had one or two friends and when you were with them, you didn’t care about anyone else. You were as weird as you wanted to be, as crazy as you felt, as carefree as you wished– they loved you anyways. It wasn’t really a surprised for them when you showed up at lunch with the new kid, laughing and joking with him.

The friendship evolved quickly and although many assumed you two to be dating, Jihoon and you were never like that. College rolled around and what was already strong became stronger and you two were indestructible; as roommates in a nearby apartment you rented, Jihoon had been present for every single important occasion in your life, and you in his. Heartbreak, birthdays, loves. Everything. Eventually, when Jihoon found Haewon, you did feel a little left out; they’d go on dates, or spend the day with other couples, but you were happy nonetheless. He finally found someone deserving of his kind heart.

After college, it feels as if years were as short as months and soon you are standing behind the lovely couple in the isle, wearing a beautiful dress and holding two wedding bands. You cry and they cry and you are pretty sure everyone cries, and then fast forward another year and beautiful Minyoung blesses your life. No one makes a huge deal out of asking you to be the godmother… it was expected to be so. As time passed, you because incredibly close to Haewon, and you found in her a best friend, a sister, and a confidant; you tell her all of your fears and desires, and in return, two years after her baby girl is born, she tells you she’s pregnant again.

“I want to confirm it, so I have an appointment with the OBGYN at the hospital,” She hurriedly tells you as you arrive to take care of Minyoung. “You got this. Bye.”

If only she could see you now, on the verge of tears, once again rejected by the one person you were sworn to forever protect. The couch looks incredibly inviting as your body starts hurting with the weight of the two-year-old, getting heavier and heavier until you finally notice she’s fallen asleep from tiring herself out. Just as you deposit her back on her crib, you hear the front door.

“I’m home!” Haewon shouts and you freeze, afraid that the baby will wake up. Quickly leaving the room, you walk to the living room, shushing your friend as you go to her.

“For the love of god, don’t wake Minyoung up,” You beg, grabbing her hand. “I just got her to sleep.”

Haewon sighs. “She’s been a lot of work again, huh?”

“It’s not her,” You recite, having said this many, many times before. “I think it’s me. We know I’m a disaster with kids.”

“Don’t say that, she loves you,” Haewon smiles, loving that you try so hard for her child. “She’s just a baby. She doesn’t know better than ‘mom’ and ‘dad.’”

“Yeah, I guess,” You smile tightly. “So?”

“What?”

“How was the appointment?” Sitting on the kitchen stool, you anxiously wait for her response, but you only hear a sigh. “Haewon?”

“It was… a disaster,” She whispers and you hear the loud thud of her head hitting the fridge. “The doctor said that I’m pregnant.”

“That is amazing!” You exclaim. “Why is that a disaster?”

“That’s not a disaster,” She sniffles. “I am. There is something wrong– I don’t remember exactly what, right now– but there’s something wrong and he said that carrying this pregnancy out will be… hard.”

“Haewon–“

“I don’t know what to do,” Her sniffles turn into sobs and you are by her side instantly. “What do I tell Jihoon? He’s going to lose it, and he’ll come right back!”

“But is that so bad?” You ask. “Jihoon’s been working abroad for almost a month now…”

“The contract is for five months,” She mumbles. “And if we are having this baby– and by everything that is sacred, Y/N, I’m having this child, even if I die, I’m having this baby–“

“Yah!” You want to tell her. You really want to tell her, but you know now is not the right time. You know that there may never be the right time, and you made your peace with it; with the only secret you’ll probably forever keep from Jihoon and Haewon. They don’t need to know, you think. It’s been years.

“So because we’re having this baby, we need the money,” She finished, not even paying attention to you. You’ve never seen Haewon this committed before, and you are scared; just as she said, she’d make sure that this baby lives, even if that means she might not. “So Jihoon will not know about this, Y/N. He can’t. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

You hesitate.

“Y/N, please,” Haewon sobs.

“He will know as soon as he sees my face,” You explain, and she knows you’re right. “On our next call he will know, Haewon. Jihoon is basically my brother– he knows when I’m lying!”

“Just don’t mention the baby!” Her hands grab your shoulder and you feel sick. “If he asks about me, say I’m tired. It’s not a lie– I’m fucking exhausted. If he asks about Minyoung, tell him she gave you a hard time again. Just skirt around it. Please.”

Sighing, you nod, hugging her closer to you.

“On one condition,” And you feel her body tense up. “You come first. Your health comes first, Haewon. That’s my condition. At the first sign of self-neglect I swear to god I’m calling Jihoon back and–“

“Deal!” She exclaims. “Deal. No need to threaten me, you bitch.”

“Love you too,” You laugh. “When is the next consultation?”

“Tomorrow,” She sighs. “They want to run some tests and do another ultrasound, but you don’t have to come, it’s in the morning, so Minyoung will be at school.”

“I’m going with you,” You nod. “I’m going to all appointments, babe. Get ready to have me interrogating your doctor.”

“Oh, be my guest,” She winks. “He’s really handsome… who knows? Maybe you two click and bam! Instant love!”

“I am not sure how you live your life thinking that’s a real possibility,” You deadpan. “But sure. If it makes you happy, go ahead, think like that.”

“Okay Miss Forever Alone,” She jokes. “It’s not because your past relationships didn’t work that you won’t find love, Y/N. I want to see you happy!”

“I am happy!” You defend yourself. “I have you, Jihoon, Minyoung, and my job. I’m perfectly content.”

“There’s a difference,” Haewon chuckles, fondly looking at you. “In between ‘happy’ and ‘content.’ One day you’ll figure it out. I’m sure of it.”

————————————

Said and done; you pick Haewon and Minyoung up, early enough to drop the little girl at the pre-school and even have a quick chat with her teacher, since she was one of your friends from college. After a quick coffee, you and Haewon say your goodbyes and drive to the hospital. You know she’s nervous because she is completely silent, but you are ready. In your purse is the notebook you carry everywhere, getting that habit from your Journalism professor back in the days, and in it, in between multiple political scandals notes, is a list of questions to ask the handsome doctor you heard so much about.

“Hello again Ms. Lee,” One of the front desk nurses smile and Haewon beams in happiness, still giddy about being called ‘Ms. Lee.’ “Do you have another appointment today?”

“I do,” Your friend smiles and grabs your hand. “And I brought a friend to replace my husband.”

“Hi,” You say laughing. “I’m Y/N, the stand-in husband.”

The nurse laughs and stares at you for a few seconds before her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh! Aren’t you the KBS reporter?”

You nod, smiling politely. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

“Ah, I admire you a lot,” The nurse says, cheeks blushing a bit. “You talk about things that are truly important… I think that’s amazing.”

You blush, still not used to the compliments. Honestly, people recognized you in the streets quite a lot, and they all seemed to say the same thing; you talk about things that are truly important. If they only knew the struggle and the fight that it is every time they try to give you a new assignment… it was always a fight in between what the public want and what the public need. You won every time, and it felt amazing to see that people recognized your efforts.

“Thank you so much,” You smile looking at your shoes, embarrassed but happy. “I’ll work hard to keep making you all proud.”

“Wah, you are so cool,” The nurse gushes over you and you and Haewon laugh. “After you are done, would you mind taking a picture with me?”

“Not at all,” You promise. “I’ll come back right after and we can get some coffee too, if you want.”

“That’s your second cup in the span of an hour,” Haewon nags, poking your side. “You promised you’d hold back on the coffee.”

“This is me holding back,” You say, looking at her innocently. “I’d be holding a cup right now if it weren’t for that promise…”

“Oh my god,” She mumbles to herself and pulls you by the hand to the end of a hallway. “Excuse me, we’re here to see Dr. Choi.”

“Your name, please?” The nurse smiles and types the information in her computer, all the while you looked around you. The waiting room was white, like the rest of the hospital, but in the end of the line of doors, you managed to see a bit of yellow, the kind that relaxes and excites at the same time; your favorite kind.

“I’ll be right back,” You mutter to your friend and move down the hall from her, trying to see what was that room that grabbed your attention so strongly. You are not surprised to see a bunch of cribs lined up, babies wiggling and sleeping and smiling, and you smile too, allowing a melancholic feeling wash over you.

“Are you looking for yours?”

To your right is a doctor– or, well, you assume he is a doctor, because of his white coat and stethoscope. Your body tenses up, and your smile is gone, as you process these bitter words said in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard.

“Ah, no, not really,” You say lowly. “Just… just exploring.”

“I see,” He smiles and for a second you wonder what made him so happy to smile like that– so bright that it feels like the sun is shining on your face. “I’m Youngjae. Choi Youngjae.”

“Nice to meet you, Youngjae,” You shake his hand, trying to offer at least a small smile back, but the nausea that takes over your body makes everything difficult. “I’m Y/N.”

Walking with him back to where you came from, he asks you if you are here for tests and you just point at Haewon, saying that because her husband couldn’t be here, you became the stand-in.

“Oh, so you’re here with Ms. Lee,” Youngjae says and you notice how his smile falters a little. “I see…”

“Are you her doctor?” You ask, and things start to click in your mind; the handsome doctor just had to be Mr. Sunshine over here. He nods and you nod, too, and both of you can feel the tense atmosphere.

“Well,” You sigh, walking ahead of him. “I’m sorry in advance.”

“What for?” He laughs, looking confused.

You look back at him and you chuckle, seeing his head slightly tilted to the side, thinking that he looks like a puppy, looking ate you with those big eyes and bright smile. You just shake your head and take a step back as Haewon starts talking to him.

Not love at first sight, you think as you follow them into his office. But he’s definitely handsome.

The next hour is filled with questions; will she need complete rest? What can we do to increase this pregnancy’s success rate? Will he be available at all times, any time?

“Okay,” You nod, looking at your notes. “I guess that’s all…”

“Oh thank god,” Both Haewon and Youngjae sigh at the same time, reclining back in their own chairs.

“This was the most intense consultation I’ve ever done for someone who’s only three months pregnant,” He jokes, looking at you with a glint in his eyes and a tired smile. “But what was I supposed to expect from our top reporter here, right?”

“Oh, you know her?” Haewon asks, and you know that voice– that sweet, unassuming voice of someone who is about to strike.

“Who doesn’t?” Youngjae chuckles. “I watch her on TV all the time…”

“Ah,” Haewon looks at you. “That’s adorable, isn’t it, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You raise your brows at her, eyes calculating her next step. “Real cute.”

“Do you have any more questions?” He asks, looking at the papers in front of him in a failed attempt to hide his blushed cheeks.

“No, but Y/N might,” Haewon jokes and grabs your phone from your hand. “So why don’t you give her your number and she can call you if anything… comes up.”

Both you and the doctor stare at your friend, dumbfounded.

“I can just call the hospit–“

“Technically, she’s not your client,” Haewon continues and you gasp, surprised with her discrepancy. “So it should be fine, right?”

Choi Youngjae snorts and before you can say anything, he is taking the phone and typing his information.

“Your friend is right,” Youngjae says matter-of-factly. “You’re not my client, so it’s fine.”

“Goddammit, you two really are a couple of–“

“See you later, Dr. Choi!” Haewon waves and, once again, drags you away. You only smile because you can hear his laughter coming from his office.

————————————

For almost two months, you abuse of your power and text Youngjae all of your questions; cesarean or natural birth? What are the odds of both? Would lamaze classes help or would it stress the fetus? How risky is this pregnancy? And being the good doctor you learned him to be, he answers all of your questions expertly, with calm and composure. On the days you don’t have as many questions, Youngjae comes up with questions of his own, mundane and funny; things like what are you doing? or loved the news last night! Who knew, huh? Slowly, you start to feel Dr. Choi Youngjae sneak into your life, and you do absolutely nothing to stop it.

It was during one of your morning brainstorm of questions and research and memes that, answering to one of your inquiries, Youngjae invited you to his office.

Why don’t we set up an appointment today? I feel like I can better answer your questions in person.

That sounds good. My lunchtime is at 12, would that work for you?

Yes. We can meet at the hospital’s cafeteria; you can eat and question me at the same time lol

Oh, it’s okay! We can meet at your office.

I’m a doctor, Y/N… I’m not letting you skip lunch -_-

You laugh at the emoji because you can almost see him deadpan expression.

Okay then. 12 at the cafeteria.

See you then!

You arrive a little early just so you can find the cafeteria, and you catch yourself wondering, comparing these white walls with the other white walls you stared at before. You look at the lights and you have a blurry flash of them passing over you, voices screaming words that you know but don’t understand. Your lungs compress and you take a deep breath, having mastered the art of suppressing anxiety attacks. You’re okay, you think to yourself. It’s been years, Y/N. You’re okay.

“Hey, Ms. Reporter,” You hear behind you, and you know you’re fully okay once you turn around to face Youngjae. He really brightens the room…

“Hey Mr. Doctor,” You smile and he smiles back. You’ll probably never admit to Haewon that she was right, but goddammit she was right. He’s incredibly handsome and you know what it is once you see him and you feel your heart race a little.

“Lunch?” He says pointing at the cafeteria and you just nod, following him.

The food is not as bad as you assume it will be, and Youngjae looks pleased, so there’s that, too. You have to catch yourself once you start comparing this food with the food of the hospital you stayed at, not wanting to ruin the day when it barely began.

“So,” Youngjae smiles shyly. “Questions?”

“What?” You mumble, still trying to snap out of it. “Oh. Oh yeah, questions…”

“I have one for you.”

“Shoot,” You say as you open your bag, hands moving the things inside in search for your notebook.

“How do you know so much about this?” He asks unassumingly. “Do you have kids?”

His voice weavers once he notices you stopped moving.

“W-what I mean is that you seem to have some–“

“Experience?” You whisper, head slowly raising to look him in the eyes. Youngjae nods, frowning as he notices your hands coming out of the bag empty, shaking as you place them on the table.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–“

“But you did,” Your voice is dry and soulless. “Anyways, I don’t. Have kids, that is.”

“Y/N…” He reaches out for your hand and you let him, craving any kinds of warmth.

“I knew you’d figure out at some point,” You chuckle humorlessly.

“Does Ms. Lee know?” Youngjae mumbles still frowning and you just want to move on from this conversation. You want him to stop looking at you like that and go back illuminating the hospital with his smile.

“No,” You shake your head, suddenly alarmed. “And you can’t tell her! She’ll blame herself and–“

“I won’t,” He promises, getting up from his chair and moving to the one next to you. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you,” You sigh. “Thanks, Youngjae.”

He nods and you notice his hesitation, the weight of the tension heavy on him. His hands are tight around yours and you think you can live like this– you can live if he holds you this tight, or else, you might just crumble down.

“You can ask,” You say, looking at him with sorrowful eyes. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“What happened?” He finally asks after a moment of silence.

“I was young,” You shrug, looking down at both your hands. I can live. “And in love. And well… you know what happens when people are in love and it was unexpected, to say the least, but what can I do? I was in college, in love, and then pregnant… He also wasn’t ecstatic, but we promised each other we’d make it work. For him. Or her; we never found out the gender.”

You aren’t shaking anymore. Nor crying. You’ve trained yourself to not feel when thinking about it; Jihoon and Haewon could never find out.

“And then one day I just… bled,” You say, closing your eyes with a heavy sigh. “One doctor told me it was because of my ‘high level of stress;’ another told me it was because of my job… one even went as far as to say I might never be able to–“

“No,” Youngjae shakes his head, pulling you closer. You could feel his breathing hitting your forehead as he enveloped you in a hug, petting you on the back. “There are many treatments for that. Who was that doctor? I’ll make sure they never practice again.”

“It’s okay,” You smile tightly. “We lost it. The baby. Fetus. Could’ve been a baby, but it was still a fetus. After that my ex and I just drifted apart and that was kind of it.”

“And you never told anyone?” You shake your head at the question. “Y/N… it’s been years and you kept that for yourself?”

“Jihoon and Haewon were still at their honeymoon phase,” You chuckle, pulling back to see Youngjae’s distraught face. “And I remember how they were on a special date, something Jihoon had been planning for a long time. I didn’t want to ruin it for them… but then the right time never came and I just gave up.”

“I’m sorry,” Youngjae mumbles, letting go of your hands and looking at his own, as if it had been his fault.

“Yah,” You chuckle, poking him with your elbow. “Sorry for what? You weren’t even a doctor then…”

He smiles a bit and you already feel yourself getting warmer, cheeks blushing slightly. “How do you know that?” He teases, and you let out a heavy breath, relieved that everything is okay with you two. “You don’t know how old I am.”

“Well, you know how old I am, and assuming your hitting on me I’m gonna go ahead and say you not much older…” You look at him, looking for any sign of a confirmation in his face, and he notices; Youngjae notices your eyes dancing around his face and he smiles brightly.

“No need to assume,” He says a bit shy. “I am. Hitting on you. And not much older, too.”

“Oh thank god,” You joke. “I was afraid you’d be a perverted old man!”

Both of you hear someone laughing nearby and you only notice the four doctors looking at you and Youngjae once he flips them off, making you gasp.

“I’m sorry about my friends,” He groans, getting up. “They are stupid.”

“And you are a perverted old man!” One of them shouts back, and you wonder if any of them heard your story. And you surprise yourself once you don’t really care; it is your story, and you’ll tell it to whomever, and whenever you want.

“Shut up, Bam!” Youngjae laughs and you laugh with him, simply because his laughter made you giddy. “Did you come with your car?”

You nod. “Yeah, it’s parked out front.”

“Text me once you make it back to work?” He asks, following you outside until you are in front of your car.

“Yes, sir,” You say, saluting him.

“You did it wrong,” He jokes and salutes back the proper way. “See you later, cadet!”

“See you, captain!” You laugh and unlock your car.

Before you can get inside, though, Youngjae calls you back.

“Oh, wait up!” He exclaims, pulling you back by the elbow. His mouth is on your for just a split of a second and you freeze. “Forgot that. Have a good day!”

“Yah, Choi Youngjae!” You gasp once he jogs back to the hospital, his laughter making you smile like a fool. “Come back here and kiss me properly!”

“Next time!” He shouts from the hospital doors. Sending you a wink, he goes inside, and you can do nothing but drive away, feeling the lightest you’ve ever felt.

————————————

Haewon is now seven months, meaning two months passed since you last saw Youngjae. That’s how you are counting time, now, since between your job and your friend’s pregnancy, you’ve been busy and exhausted. Everyday is harder than the next; you’ve been sleeping with Haewon in her room and you’ve been awaken by her pained grunting multiple times. She’s been resting for months now, and she’s told Jihoon about the pregnancy, not wanting him to miss anything even if he can only be present by computer. She just failed to mention everything else; the risks, the pain, the danger. And as you promised, you didn’t mention it either.

In between work and lunchtime you drop Minyoung at her grandmother’s for the night, and you go back home to check on your friend, even if she scolds you every time. Go check on Youngjae! Forget me for a few hours, will you? You know she’s well intentioned, but you don’t understand how she can ask that of you.

“Shut up,” You blush, and his promise echoes in your mind. Next time. “We’ve been talking everyday, he can wait a little longer.”

“It’s been two fucking months, Y/N,” Haewon cries out as another contraction hits. If that’s how she chooses dot deal with the pain– by screaming at you,– then you are fine with it. “Go see him! Have sex! Live your life!”

You roll your eyes, switching the channel on the TV once again. You look at your watch and you still have half an hour until you have to go back to work. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Y/N!” She shouts.

“I already said I would–“

You turn around in the couch to where Haewon is leaning, back against the wall and face tightened in pain. From her sweatpants, you see blood. And that’s when you move. Hands flying to your pocket, where your phone lays and your are typing the number as quickly as you can while simultaneously trying to carry your desperate friend to the couch.

“Hello?”

“Youngjae!” You cry out, probably startling him on the other side of the line. “Youngjae, she’s bleeding. Oh my god, she’s bleeding and I don’t know what to do, I’m just– Youngjae, please, please, I–“

“Call an ambulance,” He orders, voice firm and sure. “Y/N, you need to call an ambulance.”

“Okay,” You breath out, stretching your whole body to grab the house phone. “Okay, I’m calling.”

“Alright, I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?” He says and you hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. “I’ll be waiting for yo–“

“Don’t hang up!” You shout over Haewon’s cries. “Please Youngjae, don’t leave me alone, I can’t do this!”

On the other phone someone is asking questions and you answer them automatically, giving the the address and begging them to get there quickly.

“Y/N, you’re doing great,” Youngjae says, and you can hear his keys dangling. “But I have to drive to the hospital so I will have to go. You can do this. I know you can.”

“Okay,” You sob. “Okay.”

“Alright,” He says and his voice is strong. “I’ll go. Love you.”

The line is off before you can say anything about it.

Love you.

Haewon screams as you run from next to her to open the door, hearing the sirens before they even knock on the door.

Love you.

You climb on the ambulance next to her, ignoring her pleas to not call Jihoon and telling him to come home on the next flight.

Love you.

You see him by the door, wearing his scrubs and surrounded with nurses, and he’s the first one to reach Haewon, asking her question after question, and just like that he is gone, pushing the bed into the surgery ward.

“Ma’am, you’re shaking,” One of the EMT says, guiding you to a nurse stationed in the front desk. She sits you down in a couch and asks for a doctor, trying to talk to you.

“I think she’s in shock,” The nurse narrates once a doctor comes.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” The doctor calls. “My name is Dr. Tuan; can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N,” You mumble, looking at him, eyes wide and unfocused. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

You see him nod, but you don’t care. You are suddenly hit with a pang in your head, the pain making you double over.

“Everything is wrong,” You mumble to yourself. “This is not supposed to happen, this is not supposed to happen, this–“

You continue muttering, pulling on your head a way to try and focus on your present situation– the space, the people, the time,– but you can’t help but be pulled back to when it was you; laying on that bed, bleeding, desperate and helpless. You cried, begging for someone help, but there was nothing they could do. There was nothing you could do.

“You need to save her,” You tell Dr. Tuan, even though he’s not the one you want to tell that. “You need to save Haewon and the baby.”

“I’ll make sure to tell Dr. Choi that,” Dr. Tuan nods and you nod too, assuming he’s one of Youngjae’s friends. “But right now, I need you to focus. You look like you’re about to set yourself off in a panic attack, so I need you to breath.”

You do as he says, and once you regain the little composure you had when coming in, Dr. Tuan frowns.

“Ma’am,” He says softly. “Are you alright?”

“Give me a baby,” You say matter-of-factly, voice strong for the first time in hours. “Tell Youngjae to give me a baby and I’ll be just fine.”

Dr. Tuan nods, and no one says anything about your strange choice of words. Everyone just waits.

————————————

“Y/N,” You hear a familiar voice call. “Y/N, wake up!”

You blink, getting up from the chairs in the waiting room. “Jihoon.”

He looks at you, eyes wild and red, probably like yours.

“I’m sorry,” Your lips tremble and you are sobbing again. “I’m so sorry, Jihoon-ah.”

“It’s not your fault,” He mumbles. “The doctors told me everything. She made you promise, didn’t she?”

You nod and he hugs you, holding you tightly to his body. “Thank you for taking care of her, Y/N.”

“But we’re still here,” You cry. “I failed again.”

“What? No,” Jihoon pulls back and looks at you quizzically. “You never failed, Y/N.”

“But I did!” You shout, and you are sure you look crazy right now, hair wild and eyes bloodshot. “I failed. I failed and now she’s going through the worst pain she’ll ever feel in her life!”

“I’m sure that’s not–“

“I would know,” You whisper, looking at him defeated. “I would know, Jihoon.”

And although the timing is bad, you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

“Y/N,” Jihoon calls, voice serious and scared. “What are you talking about?”

“This is not–“

You try to go back on your word, make an excuse, but nothing comes out. You two stand in silence, Jihoon looking at you as if calculating your next move; but then the doors open and Youngjae walks out, looking tired and worn out after hours of surgery.

“Mr. Lee?” He says, looking at Jihoon, and just like that, everything is forgotten. Haewon is top priority.

“Yes,” Jihoon breathes out, grabbing your hand in nervousness, even though you stand behind him without looking up. You’re not brave enough to look Youngjae in the eyes. “How’s my wife? My kid?”

“Haewon is fine,” Youngjae says, a heavy sigh coming out of his mouth. “She lost a lot of blood but she is safe and stable. Your baby is at the NICU, but he’s also stable.”

“Why is he at the NICU?” Jihoon asks, stumbling on his words a little bit.

“Because your baby was born prematurely, his lungs weren’t fully developed yet,” Youngjae explains slowly, making sure that Jihoon is understanding every and each words that comes out of his mouth, and just the sound of his voice makes your breathing slow down. “This is just a little help until he’s all developed and able to go home.”

“But he’s okay?” Jihoon lets go of you to run his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his. “My son is alright?”

“Your son is perfectly fine,” You can practically hear the smile on his voice. “Just came into the world a little early, but overall okay. Congratulations, Mr. Lee.”

Jihoon cries out in happiness, turning around to hug you, and as you hug him back, you finally look at him, and he’s looking right at you. Youngjae has a smile as he sees you break down for what feels like the tenth time just this evening, and as soon as Jihoon pulls back, you run to him, ignoring his gasp of surprise as you hug him tightly.

“Thank you,” You mumble into his neck, and he laughs, hugging you back even though your best friend is probably staring with his mouth wide open in shock. “Thank you, Youngjae.”

“Hey,” He soothes you, hand running down your hair. “She’s alright. The baby’s alright. Everything is fine now; you did great, Y/N, you were so brave.”

You let go of him, and pull back a little bit, face still close to his.

“Remember your promise?” You whisper, breath fanning his lips and he chuckles, the vibration going up your body. He nods, eyes fixated on yours, and face getting closer and closer.

Love you.

“Love you, too,” You say and ignore Jihoon’s screams in background as you kiss Youngjae, mouth pushing against his, demanding and wanting and needing. You are very aware that you are kissing your friend’s doctor in front of the surgery ward with your best friend screaming in the back, but you don’t care. You can’t care, actually; not when Youngjae brings you closer as if you are all he needs. Better yet, all he wants.

————————————

It is almost a year later that you find yourself sitting down with Jihoon and Haewon, tense and nervous. Minyoung and Jinyoung are both at their grandparents and even though your friends are restless without their kids, they appreciate the timeout from the kids. You sit there quiet and fidgeting, not really sure how to start the talk you’ve been wanting to have for years, at least not until Youngjae comes back from the kitchen with four glasses of wine.

“So,” Jihoon start, clearly uncomfortable. “What did you call us here for?”

Youngjae grabs your hand, and his thumb plays with the engagement ring on your left hand, and you think this is all the strength you need to finally tell your friends.

“When Haewon was giving birth to Jinyoung,” You start, putting your untouched wine glass on the center table. “You asked me what I meant when I said I would know what she’s going through. You asked me what I was talking about and… do you remember back in college, when Jaemin had to take me to the hospital because I had an accident?”

“Yeah,” Haewon nods, trying to remember everything about that day. “He called us to say you had an accident and had to spend the night at the hospital…”

“Yeah,” You say, voice heavy and gurgled with unshed tears. “That day I had a miscarriage. I had been pregnant for about a month, and I knew… only for a few days, but I knew and I was trying to gather enough courage to tell you guys, but then I just– it didn’t follow through.”

“W-what?” Jihoon mumbles and you look at your friend. You swear you never felt as guilty as you felt at that moment, watching your best friend, your family, cry because of you. “And you never told us?!”

“You were happy,” You shrug, crying with him. “I know it’s a lame excuse, but you were happy and there was nothing you could’ve done. I’m sorry, Jihoon. I’m sorry, Haewon. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“We could’ve helped you!” Jihoon gets up abruptly, but you are not scared. Not when he marches to you; not when he reaches for you, not when he cries, sobbing on your neck. Jihoon loves you endlessly and you love him right back. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” You mumble, wiggling in his a little too tight embrace. “So there is nothing to apologize for.”

“Y/N,” Haewon is crying too, but she waits until her husband lets you go to move towards you. “It must have been so hard, when you saw me like that…”

You shake your head, trying to tell her that it’s alright. “What matters is that you and Jinyoung are alright.”

“Yeah,” She lets out a laugh, letting you sit down next to your fiancee again. “Thank to a certain doctor, isn’t that right, Dr. Choi?”

Youngjae just laughs, and pulls you closer, kissing your forehead. “You did it, love.”

“I did it,” You say it back to him, and then you look at your friends, nervous again. “And I learned my lesson, so there is something else I want to tell you guys. You too, Youngjae.”

“What?” Youngjae asks, smiling innocently.

You scoot over, getting closer to him, and looking him deep in the eyes.

“Yah, what is it?” He says, frowning even though his smile is unchanging. “I’m getting nervous…”

“I’m pregnant,” You say, smiling as you watch his face contort in surprise, smile getting wider if that’s even possible.

“How far along?” He breaths out, hands grabbing his hair out of excitement.

“Three months,” You smile and he’s on his feet, shouting in happiness. “You’re going to be a dad.”

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” He mumbles and kisses you deeply. “I love you I love you I love you!”

“Congratulations!” Jihoon hugs you. “I’ll be here for everything from now on.”

“Oh you bet you will,” You say nonchalantly. “As the godfather of this child, it’s nothing more than your duty to be here for all of it.”

And once again, Jihoon is crying.

“If Jihoon is the godfather,” Youngjae asks once it’s just you two again, in the comfort of your shared apartment. “Can Jackson be the godmother?”

“Sure?” You say, a little uncertain of how that would work.

Silence reigns for a while as you snuggle closer to Youngjae.

“Are you scared?” He whispers in your hair, hand lazily drawing shapes on your arm.

“Terrified,” You say honestly. “I don’t want to fuck this up, Youn–“

“Hey,” He pulls you closer, sitting you down on his lap. “It’s not your fault. It was a situation not a condition. You are healthy and amazing and our child will come to this world to loving parents and family. We got this, love. I’m right here with you, and I promised you, didn’t I?”

You frown. “Promised me what?”

“I promised I’d give you a baby,” He says and you instantly smile.

“He told you,” You mumble and Youngjae nods.

“Mark called me mid surgery to tell me that,” Youngjae chuckles and pecks your lips. “He thought that motivate me.”

“And did it?” You ask. “Motivate you?”

“I never felt more motivated in my life,” He mumbles over your lips. “Just the thought of having a baby with you–“

“That’s not what I meant!” You gasp, laughing at his shamelessness.

“But that’s what I meant.”

And you if you weren’t already pregnant, after that night you’d be for sure.

———————————

Hello lovelies! Here is the latest update with OBGYN Choi Youngjae! I have to say, this one might be my favorite one in the whole series! I love youngjae so much and he’s so sweet as a doctor... what do you all think? Let me know in the comments! Every like, reblog, and comment makes me happy to write :P love you all and stay safe <3

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concealeddarkness13 · 3 years

Text

WHG 15 Post-Games Brains and Brawn Part 1

This happens probably the first day after the Games. This is from Nesri’s perspective! Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes (also thanks for Skyler, Richard, and Volt!), @pen-of-roses, @thoughts-of-nora, and @ratracechronicler!

It was all a blur after the encounter with Churi. All I really remembered was the screams. Not just from me. From the other crew members too. Shine, especially, was tortured about as much as me. For no reason.

A few days after we had been taken (I didn’t know exactly how long), I looked up through the haze of pain and saw a woman who looked like she could snap me in half open the cell door. She looked all of us up and down (Churi for some reason decided to keep us together), and she sighed and turned to her partner. He also looked like he could snap me in half. “This girl will have to learn more about planning before executing her plan.” I frowned. Who were these people?

Shine had perked up, and they smiled at the two strangers and signed something I couldn’t catch. They had signed faster than they usually did at us. And the man signed back with a smile.

The woman cleared her throat. “For those who don’t know, I’m Captain Reeves, and I’ll be getting you out.” Oh. So she was the captain Triel had learned so much from.

And she was true to her word. The escape and ride out of the Capitol to a waiting airship was still a blur. Shine signed something at the man, and they grimaced when he responded.

When we got to the airship that wasn’t ours (it had been captured too), I frowned at Captain Reeves. “Are you going to be helping Triel?” She didn’t have a means of escape anymore, and it was all my fault.

She shook her head. “Triel will need to figure it out on her own. Failure is a good teacher.”

“But she could die!”

She laughed. “Oh, hun. Churi wouldn’t let Triel die. And he’s probably already figured out her secret. So, she’ll just have to figure out how to escape from the Capitol.”

I frowned. What secret? But if she was going to be taken by Churi, she wouldn’t be able to get out that easily. Which meant I had to help her. She had done everything she could to help me, so I had to return the favor.

The crew discussed it and decided that Shine and I would escape while the rest of them made a distraction. Which worked perfectly and led to us walking down a rainy street in the Capitol, wearing hoods and cloaks, ready to find the escaped tributes. The escort for district 10 turned out to be a good person, mostly, and she found us and pointed us to the apartment where the escaped tributes were staying. So, we just had to trust her.

There was a kid standing outside the building with his head bowed. He looked suspicious, like a Capitol kid if I ever saw one. I tensed and held a protective hand out in front of Shine. I looked him up and down. Probably dangerous, even if he was a Capitol kid. He was just blocking the way enough that I couldn’t slip by safely. “Please let us through.” I started quiet, but I couldn’t stop the growl in my voice.

He also tensed and growled a bit when he spoke. “What do you want?”

To have a picnic with you. What do you think? “To get past you.”

That didn’t go over well. He widened his stance. “Get lost!” He spit those words as he glared at me.

This would be a fight. I pushed Shine back since they weren’t a fighter, and I crouched low and balled my hands into fists. “Make me.”

He drew a knife. Oh joy. “I said get lost!” he shouted, gripping his knife tighter. “Now!”

A smile pulled at my lips. I had been itching for a fight for a while anyway. I pulled out my own knife. “And I said, make me.”

Time seemed to slow down as he launched himself at me with his free hand going for my knife hand and his knife going for my stomach. I sidestepped his attack and tried to kick him in the legs. Which actually connected. But he slashed at my legs as he went down and me, being the smart person I was, took it as I slashed at his knife arm.

Shit that burned. But I had gotten him too, which just led him to kick up at me. I had to stumble away, but the slash to the legs wasn’t exactly beneficial, so I fell to my knees and held my knife out in front of me as I started shaking. Shit. I sucked at this.

He got up and kicked at my knife hand, which connected, and he lunged for my neck, but I glared at him and activated my magic. It was raining all around us. Plenty of water for my magic to work with. I formed the water into a crystal shield as I started glowing and floating a few inches off the ground. And I made more rain into a knife that I pushed magically at his neck.

He froze, but before either of us could do anything, someone jumped from one of the buildings and landed right behind the guy and tackled him out of the way of my water crystal knife. He helped the guy up and shielded him. He was tensed, and he looked like he was half machine. Would I have to fight him too?

He stared at me. “What’s going on here?”

I stood up while still floating a few inches above the ground (don’t ask me how that works), and I had the crystal rain drops circle around me and Shine in a barrier. I kept glaring at the kid. “He wouldn’t let me through.”

The new man pushed the kid more behind him, but the kid was also trying to glare at me, so it didn’t work much. He glanced between me and most likely Shine, but I wasn’t going to take my eyes off them to check. “Are you the engineer?” To Shine.

And how the hell did he know about them? “And who’re you?”

“Richard.” He relaxed a little, but I wasn’t going to fall for that. He knew too much about us, and I didn’t know anything about him. He eased a little closer to me, but I stood my ground. “You…Are you District 10’s mentor?”

“And who the hell is Richard, and why should I trust you?” I growled.

The kid tried to rush around Richard, but he pushed him back. “I’m with Volt. I’m not here to hurt you.” He frowned. “What happened to you? Are you alright?”

Volt. She was one of the tributes. Could this be a trick? But I glanced back at Shine, and they nodded, so I relaxed a little. If they trusted them, I should too. “None of your concern. But if you’re with Volt, we’re allies. I’m sorry about that.” I didn’t know if I could completely trust them, but I had to try. I deactivated my magic, and the crystals fell at our feet.

Richard turned to the kid and whispered something to him, and he reluctantly ran into the building. Richard shook himself and stood more relaxed, but I was still tense. I couldn’t relax completely. Not until I at least saw Volt. I knew what she looked like. He looked over at me. “It’s a bit of a climb up, are you sure you don’t want a hand?”

I didn’t need any fucking help. I nodded. “I’ll be fine.” But he was just trying to be helpful. I shouldn’t be so harsh. “And yes, I’m the District 10 mentor. Sorry again.” I forced my voice to be softer this time.

He nodded and led us into the building and up the stairs to the same number apartment that the escort had told us about. He kept glancing back at us as we walked up the stairs. I just made sure to stand up straighter. When we got up to the apartment, Volt was there, and I relaxed a little more. This had to be right. Richard greeted her and pointed at Shine. “This is the engineer,” and then he pointed at me. “And this is one of the children.”

What were they talking about? Shine didn’t seem surprised. They just waved and texted something on their phone, and Volt checked it. I stood up as straight as I could and held out a hand. I couldn’t show weakness. They wouldn’t let me help them if I looked like I couldn’t handle it. “I’m Nesri. I’m sorry about all that back there. I’m here to help you in your mission.”

Volt shook my hand. “Volt Powell.” She looked me up and down before she texted on her phone as well. Great. They were having secret conversations without me. She looked back up afterwards. “How did you know where we are?”

“The District 10 escort: Spectra, but she called herself Limina. She said she aided in the escape and wanted to make sure we got to the right place safely. Triel’s crew was captured during the Games, so that’s why we couldn’t help. We were aided in escaping by Captain Reeves, but Shine and I had to escape from her to go help the escaped tributes and to hopefully find Triel. Captain Reeves is not planning on helping.”

She nodded. “Sounds like something Reeves would do. I’m sorry to say I haven’t heard anything to suggest Triel survived.” She sighed. “But you’re here now, so you may as well stay.”

I nodded. Triel wasn’t dead. “Thank you.” Shine wandered off, and I went to follow them. Better than staying here and letting Volt’s discerning eyes wander over me any more.

But, of course, she stopped me from following them by putting a hand on my shoulder. “Hold on. Looks like you have some wounds that should get looked at before you go off.”

My legs were hurting so bad I could barely stand, and my arms and back were throbbing from reopened wounds. I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

She wouldn’t let me go that easily. “Really?”

I couldn’t look her in the eyes as my legs buckled out from under me, but I was able to right myself before I could fall. I couldn’t say anything that would make her let me go, could I?

She sighed and draped my arm over her shoulders, and I just let her. “Come on.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I can walk.”

“For now you can.” She led me along.

I just leaned my head back so I was staring at the ceiling. That kid I had fought had been good. Maybe I could see him again? For rivalry purposes. “Do you know who that kid I was fighting was? He wasn’t bad at fighting.”

“That would be Skyler. He would be one of mine.” She sighed. “He’s a good kid really.”

I nodded. “I was…on edge. It was my fault for starting it. I’m sorry.”

“No kidding you’re on edge.” She adjusted my arm on her shoulders. “I’m sure he had a hand in it too. He tends to lash out when he’s scared.”

I frowned. “You don’t seem to have anything keeping you here. Unless you are close to your district mate. So, why do you stay?”

We got to a small room where there were a few medical supplies. Volt sighed heavily as she sat down, and I sat down next to her. “That is a good fucking question, Nesri.” She paused. “I guess I got too involved.”

“But why?” Why would anyone help others just to put their own life at risk? I didn’t get why Triel did it either. I just let Volt start treating my wounds. “Why would you bother yourself with the other tributes when you have everything already? Why bother with someone who hurt one of your own?”

Volt rolled up my sleeves to treat my wounds there, and I didn’t even have the strength to stop her. “You ask a lot of questions you know.” She grabbed some supplies. “According to Rick I’m incapable of being heartless. I think I just don’t know what’s best for me sometimes.”

I didn’t understand it, but at least there were people like Triel and Volt in the world. I stayed quiet, mulling over what she said. “Triel’s a lot like you. She doesn’t know when to quit caring. But, thank you for caring. There are too many people in this damn world who don’t.”

Volt nodded. “That there are.” She finished up and made sure I was comfortable, even getting me a blanket. “Get some rest.”

I probably wouldn’t be able to, surrounded by people I didn’t know well, but still. I nodded, and a smile actually pulled at my lips as Volt left. She had actually made me feel safe for the first time since the Reaping.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr #sorry for the rushed beginning #I wanted to explain enough to get them to the fun part

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noneya-business-me · 4 years

Text

Defenseless in the sun

It started like most of these disastrous training days go. Normal. There was a bit of rain the night before, but that didn’t bother any of the young heroes in training. They had been in worse situations before. Bakugou gazed lazily out the window of the bus as they travelled further and further up the mountain. The expanse of dark forest involuntarily made him shiver as he tried to shake off the feeling of fingers on the back of his neck. “You good dude?” Kirishima asked, leaning into his space trying to see what he was staring at.

The blonde grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.” He replied, shoving him back in his seat.

His friend smiled widely at him. “I think it’s good for us to have a change of scenery,” he stated, sensing his apprehension, “we’ve been stuck on the same boring training field forever.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes again but gave him a slight nod in agreement. “Everyone listen here.” Aizawa called, standing at the front of the bus, “we’re going to be pulling into our location any minute now.”

The bus lapsed into silence as they listened to their teacher giving them instructions about unloading the bus to get ready for the day. They soon pulled into a clearing where they all filed out to do their tasks before they would get directions for their exercises. Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets with a scowl as Kirishima pulled on his arm to bring him closer into the group.

“Today we brought you up here to do a combination of wilderness survival and rescue training.” Aizawa explained, “you’re going to be separated into groups of three and moved between stations for the morning, a break for lunch, and then switch to rescue training in the afternoon.”

He motioned towards the numbered off sections around the clearing with different people standing by for the students to move. “We’re lucky enough to be joined by some instructors from the Musutafu Outdoor Survival School so be on your best behaviour,” he hissed with a glare, pointedly towards the blonde’s own friend group.

When the idiot squad gave him excited nods, he sighed with a shake of his head. “I’m allowing you to pick your own groups today so don’t make me regret it.”

The class murmured excitedly as they moved into their groups of three. “I’m not getting dragged down by some shitty extras.” Bakugou snapped, gritting his teeth audibly.

“Come on man! This is going to be fun!” Kirishima smiled, pumping his fist into the air, “we just need to find one more person.”

He glanced over to the other groups seeing that they were all already grouped up. “You’re going to be my group of two then.” Aizawa stated, quickly noting who was in which group, “there are 7 stations to complete by lunchtime. You’ll spend 25 minutes at each station, and you’ll hear me whistle when it’s time to change. Are there any questions?”

He quickly took the silence as a no and motioned for the students to go to a station. Kirishima quickly pulled the blonde to the first station along the clearing. “Hi guys!” The instructor greeted happily.

While Kirishima replied happily with his own hello, Bakugou simply grunted in acknowledgement. “So here we’re going to learn how to gather the right wood and build a fire.” She stated, motioning to a pile of wood next to her.

Bakugou rolled his eyes as he slumped to the ground. He zoned out as she drawled on about making sure it’s dry and not damp at all, and blah blah blah. “Dude, pay attention,” Kirishima hissed, nudging him with his elbow.

Bakugou glared at him in clear annoyance. “I already know all this shit.” He growled, “I’ve done this a shit ton of times when I’ve gone hiking with my dad.”

“Do you want to do your test now then?” The instructor asked with a tight polite smile.

The blonde shrugged, moving to his feet and sifting through the pile until he found the right wood he needed. He also gathered a small pile of dry leaves. He placed the wood down next to the pile and carefully let out a few sparks from his palms. He had learned from the training camp that even his smallest explosions could be important depending on the circumstances. This was the perfect opportunity to test his control. The leaves quickly started to smoke before a small flame formed and he carefully built it up with more brush and wood. “There.” He stated, standing up and crossing his arms with a huff, “Do I pass now?”

“Well, you were supposed to use one of the techniques that we show you.” The instructor replied, holding out one of the wooden dowels that he was supposed to use.

“I can do it!” Kirishima interrupted with a wide smile. taking the hand drill and starting to gather his own brush, “we’re a team so we can work together!”

The instructor looked apprehensive before giving him her own smile. “All righty then.”

The redhead didn’t have any problems lighting his own fire, slightly impressing the other teen. Before long they heard Aizawa’s whistle cut through the air prompting them to continue to the next station and repeating seemingly the same process. Kirishima being overly excited and Bakugou tuning out but still passing the tests easily. They built shelters, tied knots and lashes, located the perfect place to set up a campsite, and went over navigations with a compass and map. For the fifth time that day their teachers whistle shrilled through the air, making the blonde groan again. He was seriously considering going over to their drowsy teacher and breaking that whistle in half. “Come on dude,” Kirishima whined, “aren’t you having fun at all?”

“Like I said before, I’ve done this shit a million times.” The blonde hissed, stomping towards their next station.

The other boy playfully nudged him in the arm. “Yeah, but it’s beautiful outside and we’re not stuck in a stuffy classroom all day.” He stated, “this is a chance to hone your skills and become the best in the class. You’re already leagues above most of us as it is.”

Sometimes the blonde hated how well his friend could read him. He knew exactly what to say in order for him to see the value in any task, no matter how much he hates the idea of some things. Kirishima could already see the fire building in the other’s eyes. “As if any of you losers could be better than me at anything,” Bakugou smirked, running ahead of the redhead to settle at their station first.

“That’s the spirit Bakugou!” He shouted, clashing his fist together.

“What are we doing?” The blonde snapped at the sheepish looking instructor.

They jumped a bit at his volume but quickly settled again. “You’re refreshing your knowledge of first-aid and CPR.” He replied, sitting down on the ground across from them.

The two of them instantly deflated, disappointed that the adrenaline they had just worked up was wasted on a relaxed station. “Don’t look so sullen,” the instructor stated, adjusting his glasses to flip through the manual in his lap, “First-aid is extremely important especially when you’re going to be pro-heroes. There’s going to be a lot of people that need immediate help that are inaccessible to medical teams right away.”

The two of them quickly sobered up in order to listen to the man. Even the fiery blonde knew how important these lessons could be, especially after his failure at the provisional licensing exam. They re-learned dressing different types of wounds, splinting limbs, and the basics of CPR; practicing on each other throughout. “Good job you guys.” The instructor praised, “I think that’s the best I’ve seen today so far.”

“See I told you.” Kirishima grinned at his friend.

“Whatever you loser,” Bakugou replied with a small smile.

“It’s about to switch groups so you guys go ahead.” Their instructor stated, glancing at his watch.

The two nodded, moving onto their final station. By the time they got close to their next destination they could see Tokoyami, Todoroki, and Koda staring down at a small pile of acorns that they had apparently gathered as food. “I don’t think we could eat this to survive.” Todoroki stated bluntly, “I found some berries though.”

He reached in his pocket, pulling out a hand full of squished berries. He stared at his hand before glancing down at his pocket that was stained through from the squeezed-out juices. “Oh.”

Bakugou could barely contain himself from slamming his hand to his forehead in exasperation. Kirishima looked just as bewildered as he felt. “Technically you can survive off of that if you leech them first but not for very long.” Their instructor laughed before the whistle prompted them to move on.

He turned to the pair as the other group departed. “I guess you guys are the lucky group that gets to gather food for lunch.” He stated with a grin.

“What do you mean?’ Kirishima asked.

“The last group at each station has to contribute to a part of the lunch break like building the fire to cook or building the shelter for shade.” He replied, “and you guys get to gather the ingredients to cook with!”

He handed them a booklet with different pictures of plants circled and locations to find them. “It’s like a scavenger hunt!” Kirishima yelled, grabbing the paper with stars in his eyes.

“That’s a good way to think about it.” The instructor replied, “you guys better get going.”

The pair looked at each other before shrugging and moving into the forest. They walked in silence for a few minutes before the redhead decided to speak up. “I thought there would be a little more lesson than just ‘here’s a picture now go find it’.” Kirishima mused, carefully pushing branches out of his way.

Bakugou growled angrily as a branch flew back in his face, spraying him with water from the rainfall the night before. “I’m about. To lose it.” Bakugou hissed, earning a laugh from his friend.

“Don’t. Laugh.” The blonde growled, clenching his jaw so tight it was almost painful.

The redhead put his hands up in surrender, giggles still on his lips before his eyes caught on sunlight streaming through the dense forest. He unconsciously moved towards the light, like a moth drawn to a flame. “Hey idiot!” Bakugou shouted after him, grabbing for his arm, “we have a shit ton of work to do!”

“It’ll only take a second!” Kirishima whined, pulling his arm away and jogging over to the tree line.

The blonde rolled his eyes but followed after him, breaking through the trees and finally seeing the trail they were supposed to get onto to gather their list of ingredients. He glanced between the path and the quickly retreating back of his friend that had completely crossed the path to the opposite side of the trail. He could hear the twigs and branches breaking as he forced his way through. “This better be quick,” He groaned loudly, throwing his head back.

He rushed after him, shielding his eyes from the sudden sunlight to find himself in another small clearing. This time it overlooked the rolling mountains and hills, swallowed by a sea of trees far below. “Wow,” Kirishima exclaimed in awe, his breath taken away by the sight.

“It’s pretty beautiful isn’t it?” Bakugou stated, standing beside him.

“You don’t seem that impressed.” The redhead teased.

“I’ve hiked up here with dad before.” The blonde replied, scanning the closer mountains and pointing out one of the peaks, “that was the first one that we climbed when I was in elementary school. He had to carry me most of the way, now I’m the one carrying him.”

The mountains always seemed to make him somewhat nostalgic and relaxed.

The redhead looked at him thoughtfully. “It sounds like you and your dad really get along.”

The blonde shrugged, his expression unreadable. “He’s much different hiking and camping then he is at home.”

Kirishima nodded in understanding. “Maybe we can go hiking sometime too,” the redhead suggested moving closer to the edge to look over the forest, “I want to go up my first mountain to be the same as your first mountain.”

The blonde gave him a small grin, “that doesn’t sound too bad.”

His grin immediately fell as he felt the first shift in the ground. “Get back here Kirishima!” He suddenly called to the other, moving forward to grab him.

“What-“

Suddenly the ground crumbled beneath them. The intense and heavy rain from the night before caused the ground to soften significantly, the mini landslide was probably going to happen anyway. Although, it didn’t help with their added weight on the small ledge. The feeling of falling was sudden but brief as the two students dropped to a ledge beneath the cliff they had been standing on. Bakugou all but shrieked as pain coursed up from his ankle and rattled his entire body.

“Bakugou! Are you okay?” Kirishima shouted, kneeling down next to him.

“My ankle.” He gasped in reply, grimacing at the already blotchy purple patches appearing on his pale skin, “it’s completely shattered.”

It felt like the world was blurring in and out of focus, the pain was so intense. It was almost ironic, considering he had been in worse situations before. “Good thing we re-learned our first aid today huh?” Kirishima laughed, standing to leave Bakugou to stare at his ankle as he breathed shakily through the pain.

“HELP!” Kirishima started to yell into the sky, “SOMEONE HELP US!”

“They’re going to notice we’re missing eventually,” Bakugou hissed, trying to shift his weight to sit back. He clenched his fists tightly, letting out a long exhale.

“HELP US!” Kirishima screamed again, stumbling a bit as he gazed at the edge of the cliff where they fell from.

The sun was high in the sky, beaming down at them with no shade for them to hide in. Sweat was quickly collecting on him, the constant breeze quickly cooling it on his skin. “Shitty hair you’re just going to tire yourself out.” Bakugou wheezed with a grimace.

The other fell silent and turned partially to stare at him with a blank expression although his brow were knit together tightly. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it glancing back up at the cliff face.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bakugou questioned, his throat starting to knot up. Something was wrong. Very wrong. “Kirishima get back over here.”

The redhead glanced at him before turning to move back towards him. All at once it was like Bakugou’s body completely seized up. His entire core felt bitter cold, his spine went rigid, and the knot that was in his throat completely choked him. Half of Kirishima’s face was covered in blood, fresh blood still pouring out of the open wound on his forehead. He could already see the colour had drained from his friend’s skin, leaving him pale almost grey and his lips were beginning to turn blue. The redhead stumbled towards him, before catching himself on his own foot and tripping to the ground. Bakugou yelped, moving as quickly as he could to his fallen friend. “Are you okay?” He demanded, trying to get the redhead’s eyes to focus on his. He could see now up close that his pupils were different sizes, a clear indication of a concussion at the very least.

“I just tripped it’s no big deal.” He slurred in reply, as the other started ripping fabric off of both their uniforms. The blonde could see the signs from a mile away. He was going into shock and based on the lessons that they had before, the shock could kill him just as easily as the head wound could. “Kirishima, do you know where we are?” He asked frantically as he tried to press the cloth against the wound to keep it from bleeding.

Kirishima stared at him for a moment before glancing to the side taking in the wide expanse of forest. He muttered out a soft, “woods?” under his breath. Bakugou let out a nervous chuckle at his blatant attempt at cheating. “I need you to be specific. Why are we here?” Bakugou urged.

The other stayed silent, in turn making the adrenaline in the blonde’s body skyrocket as he began to go through his first aid steps. ‘ABC’s first.’ He thought, checking through his airways, breathing, and laying the back of his hand on the others forehead to gauge his circulation. ‘He’s really clammy.’

He continued to pack fabric against his head and the blood began to soak through. He could feel his heart beating loudly against his rib cage, trying to not let that distract himself from checking and making sure Kirishima’s was okay. He could feel his own hands becoming sweaty as he worked away at him, making sure to periodically wipe his hands off in case he started to spark off in his panic. It suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks how much he took advantage of the idea of having to perform first aid on someone. He had done it before, plenty of times. There were a few people on the hiking trails that had fallen and needed a brace and a call for help and he had easily done that, but this was different. This was his best friend and it wasn’t a simple cut or sprain, this was his life; and the thought of that sent him into a panic that he had never felt before. All at once, Kirishima’s eyes suddenly fell shut. “No!” Bakugou yelled, “you have to keep your eyes open Kirishima!”

He quickly checked his pulse again. It was slow but it was still there, his breathing shallow to match it. “SOMEONE HELP US!” The blonde finally screamed, louder than he ever had before, which was surprising considering who he was, “PLEASE SOMEONE HELP US!”

Everything was happening faster than he could keep up with, because in the next moment the movement of the redhead’s lungs stopped and he laid still. His hands were jerky and unsteady as he moved to position his palms over the other’s chest. He pushed down firmly, the crack of the other’s ribs raising his panic even more but he knew to push through even as tears began to bead in his eyes. He counted out 30 compressions, leaning down to listen for any sign of breathing. Nothing. He delivered his rescue breaths and continued. “C’mon breathe!” He wailed, his body cramping up everywhere, “Breathe Eijirou!”

He took in a shuddering breath as he choked around his words, “God damn it breathe!” He begged, “I refuse to let you die here!”

His head began to feel fuzzy and out of focus as he began to hyper-focus on the other. The world blurred around him. He could only feel detachment as the sun above them burned at his skin, and sweat pooled at the nape of his neck. He didn’t fully understand as he was pulled away from his friend by someone behind him. He whimpered loudly as his weight was shifted onto his shattered ankle. The sudden shock giving him a sliver of clarity to realize that his CPR was halted. ‘If I stop, he’s going to die.’ He thought, weakly struggling to pull away and continue.

“Bakugou, calm down.” A muddled voice stated, holding onto him more firmly.

“He’s going to die.” He snapped back, his head lolling lazily as another tear rolled down his cheek, “I have to help him.”

“You’ve already saved him.” They replied, steadying the boy’s shaking form.

“Huh?” Bakugou questioned blearily, as he slumped in his arms.

He glanced back, seeing the rigid but soft expression of his teacher. His hair whipped around his face, as a helicopter lowered carefully for the paramedics to safety load Kirishima and take him to the hospital. He stayed silent as Uraraka used her quirk to carefully lift him up the cliffside, the exhaustion quickly overtaking him. He could see the blurry forms of his friends trying to approach him but being pushed off by their instructors from earlier. “He’ll be okay right?” He breathed out slowly, wincing tiredly as his ankle was splinted for transport.

“He’ll be okay.” Aizawa repeated, with a slow nod, “and you’ll be okay too.”

“I don’t care about what happens to me.” The blonde snorted, with a small grin.

His teacher shook his head with his own tight grin, “you’re going to be exhausting as a pro hero.”

“You can count on that,” Bakugou replied, the tension releasing from his body as his eyes began to flutter.

“Just rest up Bakugou. We’ll take care of everything else.”

When he woke up again, he almost felt like it wasn’t dramatic enough for him. His mom and dad were both beside his bed, and for once his mother had the same concerned look as his father. They filled him in on everything to do with his medical diagnosis. His father carefully rubbed ointment onto his arms and neck where his skin was sunburned, and in some places peeling from the sun that essentially baked him alive. His ankle had been shattered like he assumed and had to be fixed surgically upon arriving at the hospital considering their fears that any of the splintered fragments could puncture something. “Stupid weak ankle,” Bakugou muttered as his doctor came in the show him his x-ray and the placement of the steel plates and screws holding him together at the moment.

He almost lost his shit when he was told that the recovery time could be between 3 to 12 months, but quickly settled after a stern glare from both his mother and father. As the doctor packed up their charts, his mom opted to grab some food for the three of them down in the cafeteria. Not long after the doctor left, Aizawa entered to go over the events that lead up to their rescue. He made sure to mention immediately that his friend was safe and in no immediate medical danger. He had hit his head hard as they were falling and had some minor internal bleeding but was projected to make a full recovery. Based on the information they provided to each other, the blonde had kept up CPR for 17 minutes. He belatedly remembered the feeling of zoning solely into performing the task, nothing mattered at that point besides making sure he was doing everything perfectly despite how much his limbs ached and oxygen wouldn’t enter his lungs. “He’s extremely lucky that you started CPR right away,” Aizawa stated, “who knows what we’d be planning right now if you didn’t.”

“Can I see him yet?” Bakugou asked, a bit hesitantly.

His teacher contemplated for a moment before nodding slowly, “you just have to be gentle around him. He just woke up a bit before you.”

“He woke up before me?” Bakugou asked with a baffled expression, “how the hell is that possible?”

“If I knew that I’d be a doctor and not a teacher.” Aizawa drawled, earning an eye roll from his student.

“Just take me to him.” Bakugou snapped in annoyance, throwing the blanket off his lap and sitting up.

“Easy there Katsuki!” His dad interjected, making sure his IV tubes didn’t get tangled up in the bedsheets, “please calm down a bit. You’re still healing.”

The blonde gave him a blank look, before moving to get up again. “Stop!” His father shouted again, moving to go into the hallway, “just let me grab you a wheelchair first at least.”

“I don’t need a damn wheelchair!” Bakugou loudly complained as it was rolled into his room and beside the bed.

“I don’t care!” His father snapped, making the blonde freeze in surprise.

His dad never yelled like that. The twisting in his gut squeezed uncomfortably all over again. “I was scared shitless when I heard that you got hurt and needed surgery.” He stated, his eyes glossy with unshed tears, “so for the love of god just take it a bit easier than usual. For my sake.”

“Okay,” Bakugou replied softly, letting his dad help him into the wheelchair. He was careful to keep the weight off of his bandaged foot.

He could see Aizawa shifting uncomfortably at the doorway. Not wanting to witness his family’s little dramas but still sticking around to take him to his friend’s room. They called a nurse in to the room to attach the I.V to his wheelchair and they were set to go. “You should probably wait for mom or she’ll lose it when she comes back,” Bakugou stated.

His father stared at him in worry before sighing and giving him a small smile. “You’re probably right.” He replied, sitting back down in his chair, “just.. don’t take too long.”

“Don’t miss me too much!” Bakugou called back as his teacher wheeled him out and down the hallway.

He was only a few doors down from his own which surprised him, considering he assumed the other would be in the ICU or something like that. He could hear his booming laughter before they even knocked on the door, followed by a wheeze and a quiet ‘ow’. Aizawa quickly knocked on the door, listening as the laughter quieted down a bit and the door was opened by a smiling black-haired woman. “Oh hi-“ she paused when her eyes fell on Bakugou.

Her eyes watered a bit before she leaned down to softly but firmly hug him. The blondes brows knit together in confusion before she spoke again. “Thank you for saving my son.” She breathed softly.

“Hi Aizawa Sensei!” He heard Kirishima call from his bed on the other side of the room.

“He really is awake.” Bakugou sighed in relief but shock.

His mom nodded in agreement moving back to let the two in. “Bakubro! You’re awake!” Kirishima shouted happily.

His head was tightly wrapped in bandages and he was hooked up to some machines and IV’s but other than that he looked perfectly healthy. “You scared the shit out of me you asshole.” Bakugou choked out around the lump in his throat, “you’re not making me cry again you ass, I’m already dehydrated.”

The redhead laughed loudly again, as his friend was set right next to his bedside. “We’ll give you boys some privacy.” Kirishima’s mom said sweetly, all but dragging their teacher out with her.

“Thank you for saving me Bakugou.” Kirishima stated softly after a beat of silence, “who knows what-“

“Save that mushy stuff for when I feel like it.” Bakugou retorted crossing his arms.

The redhead looked at him with wide eyes before he smiled again. “You got it Bakubro!”

That’s why they worked so well together. Kirishima never pushed him to act a certain way or talk about his feelings about things until he wanted to and vice versa. They would have this conversation someday just not today. Today was about living their lives as if nothing had happened despite the fact that the two of them were covered in bandages and had fluids being pumped into their bodies.

“Are you still up for a hike in 3 to 12 months?” Bakugou asked, motioning to his casted leg with a feral smirk.

Kirishima’s sharp toothed smile widened dangerously as he clashed his fist together loudly.

“Absolutely.”

#mha #bnha #katsuki bakugou #crying bakugou #training accident #Kirishima Eijirou #zine submission #kiribaku #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #angst #story #ao3 #ao3 kiribaku #anime_all_the_time

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 7 (Lemon x Life) - Mermelada

A/N: And she’s back, back, back again! I hope you all enjoy this one! Friendly reminder to drink in moderation and socially distance <3 tw for drugs and alcohol in this one, as always, I love all the feedback I’ve been getting! Thank you all, big kisses!

Saturday rolled around quicker than Lemon had expected, and she had a dilemma: Jan had a fancy dinner with her boyfriend’s parents; Jackie was still studying in New York; and Brooke Lynn was performing in Giselle every night for the next ten days. But she was so keen to go to Scarlett’s party - and not be stood alone like an awkward, well, lemon - that she had done something that was probably very, very silly.

“So let me get this straight, you want me, a girl you hooked up with once on Tinder, to come with you to a party you were invited to by another girl from Tinder, and help you get laid?”

When she put it like that, it did actually seem very weird. “Well, not necessarily the last part, but yeah, it’s just a party, right? It’ll be fun!”

Kyne sipped her fruity cocktail, brow furrowed, not letting Lemon see any of her current thought process. The blonde’s eyes darted around the bar, smoothing her yellow skater dress along her thighs, as she thought of Plan E should the brunette say no. But on the plus side, she contemplated, trying to convince herself that her plan wasn’t completely doomed to failure, she did agree to come and meet me at short notice. And we’ve been chatting pretty regularly, so we can totally be friends, right? Her inner monologue was cut short when Kyne finally spoke up.

“And there’ll be booze and lesbians, you say?”

“Yes, Kyne, I can guarantee you will be surrounded by booze and lesbians.”

The click of her high heels echoed through the bar as she jumped off her stool, grabbing her coat. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

***

Walking arm in arm as they navigated an unknown neighbourhood, the pair were able to laugh and chat like regular friends. Clearly having learned from her previous missteps, Kyne even appeared to be taking an interest in Lemon, asking about her life - she was even excited to find out about Lemon’s new job.

“Okay, okay, one thing I have actually been dying to know… is Lemon REALLY your name?? Like do your parents love fruit or something?”

Lemon turned and deadpanned her answer. “Yeah, I have a brother called Lime.”

She could see the cogs turning inside Kyne’s brain as her mouth rounded in a confused “oh”, but she could only keep her serious façade in place for a few seconds before she snorted into an easy grin.

“You bitch! You really had me thinking you were part of some fruit cult! So what’s your real name then?”

“Do you promise not to laugh?” pouted Lemon, shifting her eyes to the girl beside her.

“I promise nothing, but I’ll try my best.”

“Luisa.”

“That’s really pretty! Why would I laugh at that? But even bigger question now, where the fuck did Lemon come from?!” Kyne all but screamed as they turned the corner onto Scarlett’s street, the pair looking at every door to find the correct apartment block. Their plastic bag of recently-purchased alcohol and snacks (and a red velvet cupcake for Scarlett, it was her birthday, after all) swayed between them as they zig-zagged down the pavement, trying not to trip over the uneven surface in their heels. Lemon was so focussed on finding number 143 that she almost forgot to answer, until she felt Kyne’s elbow on her bicep.

“Oh, I don’t even know, I guess I loved yellow as a kid? Plus I’ve always been sour as hell.”

Looking up, they caught a glimpse of a girl with light-blue hair hanging out of a window, smoking, who noticed Lemon and Kyne approach the front door immediately. She tilted her head to the side and shouted loudly, seemingly at nobody. “Sissy! Whores at the door for you!”

Looking between each other, both panicking that they’d made a huge mistake, the girls stood on the front step, trying to ignore the glare of the girl above them.

“I’m scared, she’s mean,” mouthed Kyne, causing Lemon to reach out and hold the younger girl’s hand, also as an attempt to calm her own racing pulse. Before they could do anything else, the intercom crackled and buzzed, the door shifting slightly as it unlocked. Biting her lip, Lemon led the brunette inside, never letting go of her hand. The smell of weed radiated around the stairwell, the dull thud of a dancey bassline penetrating the concrete walls. Slowly, they climbed the stairs up to the third floor.

“Do you smoke?” Lemon asked, dying to break the silence and put the younger girl - but mainly herself - at ease.

“Sometimes”, she hesitated, tucking a strand of her wavy chestnut-coloured hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Sometimes.”

They eventually reached the source of the music, where a girl Lemon recognised as Scarlett stood at the open door, already clearly hammered.

“Oh my god, you must be Lemon!!!” she screamed, immediately engulfing her into a tight hug. She was a good couple of inches shorter than Lemon, but she was very, very strong. Scarlett smelled of a combination of weed and flowery perfume, and Lemon couldn’t help but notice how her tattooed biceps flexed as she gripped her. “You are even more beautiful in person, oh fuck, sorry, thank you so much for coming!” Finally letting go, she placed her hands on Kyne’s shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes like she was reading a sign. “Is this your friend? She’s gorgeous too, it’s not fucking fair!”

As if a switch had been flipped, Kyne was suddenly oozing fearless confidence, her demeanor reminiscent of the first time Lemon had met her. “Hi, yes, I’m Kyne, and I fucked her first.”

Lemon’s jaw hit the floor as Kyne smirked, before being enveloped in Scarlett’s arms. The birthday girl laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard, her hands wrapped tightly around the Filipina’s waist. “Oh my god! You are so funny, I love you! Welcome, welcome!” Taking a step to the side, Lemon produced the cupcake in its paper container from their shopping bag.

“Happy Birthday, girl!”

Scarlett’s eyes suddenly became glassy, and she put an arm around each of the other girls as her bottom lip trembled. “Ladies… this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me today, you are both angels!” Lemon tried to hold the small cake aloft to avoid squashing it any more, meanwhile Kyne appeared to be biting her lip in a vain attempt to not laugh. Scarlett, however, showed no signs of stopping her emotional tirade. “My own girlfriend didn’t get me a cake! I mean she baked some edibles for tonight, but it’s just not the same, y’know? This really means something, so thank you so much.”

A cough at the door interrupted the moment, and from the corner of her eye, Lemon saw the blue-haired girl from the window earlier, quickly realising that she recognised her from her heart tattoo under her eye. Ilona.

“Sorry to interrupt, babies, but we should take this inside. Scar, our neighbours don’t need to hear this again.” She spoke curtly, and despite the smile plastered on her face, it was obvious to everyone how she was really feeling. She was mad.

As Lemon and Kyne detangled themselves, edging towards the entrance, Scarlett spoke up again, sounding much less merry than before.

“Oh I’m sorry, sissy! Fuck my feelings, eh? Come on, ladies, let’s go party!” And with that, the remaining three girls could only watch the short blonde hair of the birthday girl bounce through the front door, leaving them in an awkward stalemate. Luckily, Kyne spoke up first, addressing the burning question that Lemon wasn’t brave enough to mention.

“So are you two, like, a thing?”

Ilona’s face had completely changed, her vulnerability now evident through her knitted eyebrows. She sighed heavily, ushering the others inside. “Yep, one wonderful year of this,” she muttered as she gesticulated wildly into the air, closing the door behind her and all but stomping down the dimly lit hallway. “Leave your shoes and jackets here, smoke out the window, and don’t have sex on my bed.”

This was definitely a bonding moment for Lemon and Kyne, the two giggling quietly at each other as they slid off their shoes, leaving them in the messy pile which had been erected by the door. Lemon felt Kyne’s warm hand brush against hers, so she took the hint and interlaced their fingers again. They smirked at each other, knowing that tonight would be interesting, no matter what happened. As they heard Scarlett’s strained voice shouting at her girlfriend from the room at the end of the hall, they padded along the wooden flooring, ready to see where the night took them.

***

“Hey! Kyne! Watch this!”

With slightly dilated brown eyes and a vacant smile focussing on her, Lemon slid her legs along the carpet, straight into the splits. She posed, grinning, with a ‘ta-da!’

“Wooooo! Go Lemon!! She’s a dance teacher, people!” screeched Kyne over the music, running over to Lemon with a bottle of Fireball. Both girls took a generous swig, laughing as the brunette took the blonde by the hands and attempted to drag her across the floor, legs still splayed. The party, so far, had indeed been interesting. Scarlett had disappeared shortly after they had arrived, so Ilona had joined them on the couch with a bottle of expensive-looking vodka and a plate of pot brownies. Lemon and Kyne had half-heartedly listened as she cried about nothing they knew anything about; then Kyne had cried about how she had started to develop feelings for her roommate, but how she was too scared to ever say anything; which left Lemon sat in the middle with her arms around them both, stroking their hair, waiting for their temporary downer to end. As quickly as it had started, they had both perked up again, and pulled Lemon onto the makeshift dancefloor, the alcohol in her system making her brave enough to pull out all her tricks. The blonde couldn’t help but notice that the unlikely pair were getting on rather well, Ilona’s hand never far away from any exposed part of Kyne. As she stood upright again, shaking off the strain in her groin muscles, she stood and hazily watched as both girls slid into the hallway, taking the bottle of orange alcohol with them. As Lemon pondered her next move, a voice from above knocked her out of her daze, with strong arms guiding her toward the kitchen. For the second time that night, Lemon couldn’t help but feel she recognised the dark-skinned woman. She wore her hair in two long boxer braids which swung down her back, her plum lips turned up in a smile.

“Come play with me, we’re doing gin pong!”

Lemon let the woman’s velvet voice encompass her, when her brain finally connected the dots.

“Tynomi?!”

The woman in the denim playsuit looked startled as she looked Lemon up and down, before having her own moment of realisation. “Ah, lesbian Tinder? Nice to meet you…?”

“Lemon! I’m Lemon!”

“Lemon, it’s a pleasure! I’m afraid I haven’t found you yet, otherwise I’d know you better by now.” She winked as she sashayed through the beaded curtain which separated the kitchen from the living room, Lemon following her like a puppy would its mother. She readily took the plastic cup Tynomi offered her, filling it with a potent-looking mixture of rum and ginger beer. “I don’t spend as much time in Toronto as I’d like, sadly, which means so many lovely ladies fly under my radar.”

Trying to hide her wince as she sipped the strong drink, she leaned towards Tynomi, who was busy preparing a drink for herself with at least six different types of alcohol in it. “That’s a shame, do you live out of town?”

“No, no, I live two blocks away actually! But I’m a flight attendant, so it’s hard to keep something serious going, you know?” She raised her glass to toast with Lemon, both women holding eye contact as they sipped. Before Lemon had the chance to ask any of the hundreds of questions running through her mind, Tynomi had already turned to the long table with cups set up at both ends, grabbing hold of a ping-pong ball. “Anyway, shall I start?”

***

Lemon had lost all concept of time and space by the time Scarlett reappeared, her pixie cut looking ruffled as if she’d just rolled out of bed - which, to be fair, she probably had - jumping around the kitchen excitedly, attempting to drum up support for going to a club. Looking around the packed room, there was no sign anywhere of Kyne or Ilona, and after three attempts she managed to unlock her phone to see if the younger girl had messaged. Thankfully, she had.

[22:04] Leeeeeedmon im ginna sleeo here tonight with alina hopw u get bsck ssfe txtx me luv u bye xxzzxxxxxxzx

Despite not fully understanding what she was attempting to read, she decided that Kyne was fine. Why not go out with Scarlett? She found the blonde back in the kitchen, chatting to Tynomi, when she wrapped her arms around them both. “Let’s go out out! You’re both, like, so cool, I wanna dance!” And in a blur, Lemon found herself being whisked into the back seat a taxi between the other two girls, singing along to Alanis Morisette at the top of her lungs.

How the bouncers at the front door decided they were fit enough to be let in, Lemon will never know. But here she was, jostling through the crowds, ready to order some more drinks with money she didn’t necessarily have, but she didn’t care right now. Tynomi and Scarlett had decided to stay outside for a cigarette break, but she had assured them that she was absolutely fine. Completely fine. She heard a sudden thud, and as she bent down to search for her dropped phone on the dark floor, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Lemon?”

“OH MY GOD! RITA!!!!!!!” Grabbing the slippery device and clumsily skipping towards the area where Rita was standing with another woman - whose giant boobs were the only things Lemon could actually focus on - she threw herself head first into the Québécoise, not noticing the death stare she was receiving from the ashy blonde beside her.

“Who are you here with, mon chou? Are you okay?”

“We were at a party! I’m not sure where they’ve all gone, but oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here! I’m so drunk! Let’s go dance!”

Rita and her companion exchanged a worried glance, and both helped Lemon balance as she wobbled between them. “Lemon, this is my friend from work, Jimbo. Jimbo, this is my friend, Lemon.”

Despite the alcohol coursing through her system, Lemon still picked up on the way Rita’s mouth ever so slightly twisted into a smile as she looked over at her friend, or the way she maintained wide eye contact with her afterwards, wordlessly begging the drunk girl not to embarrass her or do anything stupid. She put everything together and realised that this was the woman Rita liked. But as she twisted in her seat to shake the other doctor’s hand, she was once again interrupted by a voice from behind her.

“Rita? Is that you?”

Tynomi approached the group, somehow still walking like a runway model, with her arms open wide. Rita immediately found herself enveloped in Tynomi’s embrace, the dark-skinned woman planting kisses on both of her cheeks. She held tightly onto Rita’s upper arms, looking each other deeply in the eye, leaving Lemon and Jimbo to feel like they were spying on an intimate moment. “Rita, you look amazing! How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, the same really! How are you? It’s great to see you again!”

The tension hung thickly in the air as Rita and Tynomi chatted, not even Scarlett’s alcohol-fuelled attempts at speaking French could dissipate it. And as Lemon squinted her eyes to the tall girl beside her, a stiff arm around her waist still holding her upright, she noticed the angry scowl now painted on her face while she watched the others. Lemon may be completely and utterly wasted, but she knew that look well - she wasn’t lying when she said she was always bitter - and felt obliged to do something. After all, Rita had just helped her get a job.

“Jimbo, wanna come smoke outside with me?”

The blonde glared at her for a second, before letting go and walking straight towards the door, leaving Lemon to trot after her. She found her again standing against the front wall of the building, arms folded, lips still pouted like a child who didn’t get their way.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Jimbo slid her back down the wall until she was crouching, allowing Lemon to sit beside her, no doubt getting her yellow dress covered in dirt and who knows what else. Jimbo groaned as she threw her head into her hands. “I can’t help it. It’s Rita, you know, she’s wonderful. But she goes for people like you and those girls inside, not some ugly, big-titted whore like me. I’m such an idiot, bad Jimbo!”

All too familiar with this narrative and in no mood to let the party mood be dampened, Lemon grabbed both of Jimbo’s hands, rubbing them softly with her thumbs, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears falling from the other woman’s eyes. “Hey, no you’re not! You’re amazing! Rita definitely likes you too!”

But unfortunately, that only made her cry even more. “You don’t even know me! Why are you being nice to me? Who even are you?” Lemon continued holding her hands, shuffling closer so they could share body heat in the cool autumn air. Normally, when she was sober, she was pretty terrible at dealing with emotional people, but now she was feeling like a qualified therapist. How could it possibly go wrong?

“Look,” she began, moving her arm to around Jimbo’s shoulders, the other blonde leaning into the touch as she sobbed into Lemon’s chest. “I don’t know Rita as well as you obviously do, but I do know a lot of deep shit about her, right?” Stroking the long, blonde hair in front of her, she thought of how to best articulate her plan. “By the way, do you speak French?”

“I mean, enough to understand when she talks to herself in the office when she thinks no one else is there? Oh fuck that sounds so creepy, she hates me!” Jimbo was shaking with tears now, leaving black mascara marks on the front of Lemon’s dress. But that was a problem for future Lemon.

“Well, she turned me down a few days ago. Apparently I’m not her type. She said she liked someone else, from work, who speaks French with her, who makes her tea and compliments her lipstick, and makes her laugh every day with her silly impressions. Does that sound like anyone you know?” Lemon stopped touching Jimbo’s hair, allowing the voluptuous woman to look up at her, still crying hysterically. For a moment, Lemon almost panicked that she had horribly misread the situation and was speaking to the wrong person entirely.

“I… make…. her… tea…” she managed to stutter through jumpy breaths. Now it was her turn to grab hold of Lemon, squashing her head into her large breasts, Lemon making a mental note to ask later if they were real or not. “She… she always wears amazing lipstick, and I always tell her so,” she hiccuped, wiping her tears on the top of Lemon’s head. “She always laughs when I do my Joan Rivers…” Sitting up, she looked at Lemon in shock, finally appearing to have stopped crying. “Does Rita like me?! You’re lying!”

Lemon repositioned herself again, sliding her legs out in front of her, back to sitting beside Jimbo on the ground. “I’m dead serious, that’s what she told me!” She couldn’t get another word in before she was once again being dragged into a vice-like hug by the older woman.

“Oh my god, I am so fucking glad that work drinks got so messy tonight! Oh my god, what do I do now? Help me, yellow lady!!” Lemon managed to pry herself away, taking a deep breath to make up for all the breathing she’d missed out on.

“What do you mean, you dummy, just tell her!”

“I can’t just tell her! When has that ever worked?!”

“I told one of my friends once and we ended up dating for three years, so I…” Lemon’s words caught at the back of her throat, why did she have to say that? Of all the stupid things her drunk brain could think of, of course it had to be Juice. There was no point in fighting it, she just had to get her emotions out, even if she was a very ugly crier. “I… I loved her so much, Jimbo, why did it have to end?” Her trembling lower lip soon transformed into a loud sob, leaving Jimbo to hold her tight again and clumsily run her hand along her arm.

“Don’t cry, darling, she sounds like a total fucking bitch. Forget about her!”

“She wasn’t though! Why did I break up with her? Oh god, what have I done?”

“No no no no no, don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry again!”

And so the pair stayed sitting on the dirty concrete at the front of the bar, holding each other and crying for what could have been hours, not noticing any effects of the cold air or damp pavement against their bare arms and legs. They didn’t speak another full sentence to each other, communicating only through grunts and high-pitched wails, much to the amusement and confusion of the other customers milling around outside. Eventually, they felt the presence of somebody else squatting in front of them, the liquorice scent of Rita’s perfume and the grounding feeling of a hand on each of their knees bringing them back into the real world.

“Ohhhh là là, I am not nearly drunk enough for this. Let’s go back inside, ladies, Aunty Scarlett has just bought 100 Jägerbombs and we only have an hour to finish them all.”

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #mermelada #lemon #kyne #scarlett bobo #ilona verley #tynomi banks #rita baga #jimbo #lmid #tw drugs and alcohol #submission #can1

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fire-the-headcanons · 4 years

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Follow the Beacon

Raven—Separate Ways

[Link to Masterpost]

[TW underage drinking, theft mention]

"I can't stay. They could walk in any minute, and everyone thinks I can only jump to Qrow."

"Hmmph." Vanta turned over the page, looking at his record now. "You're standing out too much on the battlefield. Look at what they said."

"They know we come from the wilds, and they believe we were trained by a veteran Huntsman," Raven said. Breathe in, breathe out. Stay calm, stay relaxed. Getting tense will only make her suspicious. "It's balanced out by the useless things like history that the others studied in their schools."

Vanta hummed again, and tossed the papers into the fire. "I'm glad you've thought this through. At this stage, you're unlikely to be caught. Sneaking in was always going to be the riskiest part. The Vytal Festival may pose a problem, do you have a plan?"

"Our team won't be able to compete if one of us is injured, but obviously we'd prefer something else. The Tournament isn't until next year. We have some time."

"Very well, then. What do you have to report?"

"We haven't been taught anything new in days. The teachers are reviewing for exams."

"And your brother's weapon?" she asked dangerously.

She hadn't really meant to tell Vanta about the new sword's convoluted design—she'd just been frustrated, and let it slip while relaying what they'd learned about maintaining Huntresses' weapons, that he'd never be able to keep it working without regular access to an Academy forge.

But while Raven had been annoyed, Vanta had been furious.

An image of Qrow popped into her head, standing with his sword drawn in a back alley in Vale. The way he'd stared her down, ready to fight. Really fight—to die or to kill, with the same grim resignation he'd worn on every raid.

It's completely ridiculous, she swallowed the truth. "I made him see sense. He's simplified things."

"Good. As if his Semblance weren't bad enough on its own, he insists on setting himself up for failure," Vanta muttered. "All right, get back to your school. I want to speak to Qrow."

Raven's heart pounded. Breathe in, breathe out. "The others could be back soon, and the huntress woke up last time I tried to visit. I managed to convince her I was returning and not going, but it's too dangerous to keep coming. Especially while the teachers aren't giving us anything useful."

"Brat," Vanta snarled, and Raven wasn't entirely sure if she was referring to Summer or her. "Fine. If you can't report in person at least drop a note through once in a while so we know you haven't been discovered."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"And keep an eye on your brother. He's always admired the Huntsmen and he might just be stupid enough to let something slip for the chance to impress one."

Internally, she cursed. Why couldn't Qrow and Vanta settle things themselves? Why did she always have to get caught in the middle? Even when they didn't need her portals to speak to each other. "Yes, ma'am."

She would have to handle his delusions of heroism on her own.

Qrow sat bolt upright as she stepped back into the dorm and her portal snapped shut behind her as quickly as it had opened. Still no sign of their teammates, thankfully.

"Well?" he demanded.

"She bought it," Raven growled, dropping onto her own bed. "Gimme a drink."

He leaned back, reaching behind his bed for their stash. All the dorms' mattresses sat on strange wooden boxes covered in cloth—whatever they were, they were hollow, and the perfect place to hide things. They hadn't even had to cut the hole. Generations of students had probably been using it for the exact same purpose.

Raven took the bottle gratefully and uncapped it, pouring a shot's worth down her throat. At least she finally had something to relieve the tension.

"She didn't want to talk to me?" he asked, taking the bottle back.

"She did. I told her our teammates would be back soon and she let it go."

Qrow took a much longer drink than she had before returning it. "What are you going to do with the time off?"

She rolled her eyes. "I imagine the city-dwellers would take offence if I spent it hunting. You'll be in the forge the entire time, working on that ridiculous machine, won't you?"

Qrow leaned back, tossing his pillow behind him. "It's gonna be cool as hell."

"Impractical as hell," she corrected, passing the bottle.

The door flew open, and both of them jumped. The whiskey slipped through their hands—Raven tugged on a thread of aura, and the bottle reappeared near the ceiling before landing in Qrow's waiting hands. One drop of spilled whiskey hit the floor.

"Hey, you started celebrating without us?" Tai demanded, leading Summer and Dan into the room.

"Pull up a mug," he said, raising the bottle before handing it back to Raven. "And don't mention it." She scowled, but didn't say anything—there were three more bottles still hidden and it was hardly difficult to get more.

"Booze? Excellent!" Dan said with an oily smile. "Who's selling right now?"

"We smuggled it from home," she lied, pouring him a shot, and he pouted into the cup.

"Aw, come on, that's it?"

Raven turned away, pouring for their teammates as well. "...As funny as it would be to watch you try to drink a mug of this, yes. That's it." Did the moron think it was wine?

Summer's eyes widened. "Wait. Did you just make a joke?"

Sure enough, as soon as the mug tipped back, he doubled over coughing and sprayed half of it on the floor.

Qrow smiled a little at the back of Dan's head. "Yeah, I don't like this brand much either."

"Wow." He cleared his throat. I don't suppose you could smuggle another one over to sell to a friend…?"

"We're staying here for the break," Raven said dismissively, taking another gulp. "So, no."

Tai elbowed him with a grin. "It was worth a shot, though, right?"

Gods, that one was awful. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm and covering her mouth with her fingers—but, unfortunately, the Huntress was always watching.

"Raven smiled!" she shouted, beaming.

Tai snapped his fingers with a sarcastic frown. "Darn. I was trying to make her laugh."

"Good luck with that," Qrow said, taking a shot, and Raven glared at him. "See? Back to normal."

"I'll have to keep trying, then."

"Bet I can get her to laugh first," Summer said.

"You're on."

The most fearsome warriors on Remnant, playing games like children. "Oh, enough." The last thing she needed was the two of them prodding. "What are we drinking to?"

"To Qrow, seventh in the year!" Summer cheered, lifting up her mug. Behind her Dan's scowl deepened. "It's really amazing."

"Yeah, top ten! Who knew?" Tai chuckled, still laughing at his boyfriend's exasperated expression. "Maybe we should be sparring with you more often."

"I mean, you guys helped me a lot with history," he mumbled. "Got any plans over break?"

"Dad'll probably pester us for a bunch of stories," Tai said dismissively. "It'll be good to see Zaff again, though."

"Yeah, he called this morning from Haven, he's flying home!" Summer said. "We should all meet in Vale when you're finished at the forge!"

"Had to work over break?" Dan simpered. "Or couldn't afford the tickets home?"

Tai glared at him. "Dude."

"Tai, he's wearing your old pajamas."

"Don't be an ass!"

"It was the only time Professor Carmine could work on my weapon with me," Qrow muttered, taking another gulp of whiskey. "We've been working on something a little more custom."

"Don't tell him, let it be a surprise!" Summer shouted, a little on the loud side—the alcohol was finally starting to kick in. "The plans are so cool. Have you thought about any names for it yet?"

"…I kind of want to hold it first," he admitted. "But I'm definitely not calling it 'Beak'."

"Beak?!"

"It's what Professor Carmine named the file."

"It looks like a beak," Raven said.

"I already know you hate it." He set the empty mug on the bookshelf and flopped back on the mattress. "This weekend is going to take forever."

[Unrelated note... Raven is *very* good at Portal games]

Next Chapter: Taiyang—Breaking the Ice

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #raven branwen #qrow branwen #summer rose #taiyang xiao long #strq #team strq #dan effuiller #carmine eitri #follow the beacon

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nightskywrites · 4 years

Link

The Big Three visit Aizawa’s 1-A class to talk about work study. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

(read it here, or on AO3 to support my account! part 1 of 2!)

Aizawa-sensei looks more tired than usual, and when she walked in that morning he was already in his sleeping bag, clutching a thermos of coffee that was probably big enough to be a bowl.

He eyes them as they wander in, giving each student a glare to know that this morning was not one to be messing around. She and the rest of the class take their seats quickly, curious to see what got their normally unperturbed teacher in such a mood. Personally, she doesn’t really want to find out, but the universe isn’t normally that kind.

“Today,” Aizawa-sensei says with a long suffering sigh, shuffling to his podium after the bell rings, “someone will be coming in to talk to you about work study opportunities.”

The class erupts into cheers. Aizawa-sensei looks like he wants to die.

When they quiet down, he continues. “The people coming in to talk to you are U.A.’s top hero students, known around campus and the rest of Japan as the . . .” his face twists slightly, “Big Three.”

If they were loud before, they’re going positively wild now. She can’t help but grin and elbow her neighbor. The internships after the sports festival were one thing, but work studies were the real deal.

“Show them the same respect you’d show me or any other member of the faculty,” Aizawa-sensei says, and then the door opens.

They’ve all heard about them, obviously , but they were - different, in person. For starters, the one with the green hair was absolutely dwarfed by the other two. One’s jacket was completely undone and scowling so fierce at least two people reflexively leaned back, the other looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“The Big Three: Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. For introductions, let’s start with Bakugou.”

The green one leans past what she recognizes as Todoroki Shouto through the dual-toned hair and says in what sounds like it’s supposed to be a whisper but is loud enough for all of them to hear, “Try not to scare them, Kaachan!”

“Pfft,” Bakugou Katsuki snaps. “If they’re scared of me, you shitty nerd, they sure as fuck shouldn’t be doing hero work!”

Aizawa sighs again. “Bakugou.”

“Fine!” the blonde says. He glares at them, annoyance written into every line. “If you don’t know who I am, you must live under a fucking rock.”

Todoroki snorts. “Yes, because that’s helpful.” Bakugou’s face turns red. “Shut the hell up, you half-and-half bastard!”

Azuma gasps, and a lot of her classmates have similar reactions. The Big Three were famous and Bakugou had a reputation, but she never expected him to actually be so rude.

“Shouto,” says the person who must be Midoriya Izuku then, laying a hand on Todoroki’s arm. “Stop provoking him.”

“Stop provoking me ! I’ll show you provoked, you SHITTY-ASS NERD.”

Aizawa-sensei groans. “I thought you’d have learned maturity by now, Bakugou. Fine, moving on. Todoroki, go.”

Todoroki steps forward. “Hello,” he says, and while his voice is cool and level it holds none of the hostility of the previous speaker. “My name is Todoroki Shouto. My quirk, half-cold and half-hot allows me to control fire with my left side and ice with my right one. While I did both my internship and our second work study at my father’s agency my first year, both me and Bakugou did not originally do work studies due to failure at the provisional license exam.”

“Wait,” Kibe blurts out from two seats to her right. “You failed? Aren’t you, like, insanely strong?”

“You fucker,” Bakugou hisses, palms popping off small explosions.

Todoroki just nods. “We did not treat the exam like we should have. We deserved to fail.”

“But then,” Azuma ventures, because it seems the other two will keep Bakugou in line. “How are you two a part of “The Big Three”?” Aizawa-sensei nods approvingly at her question, and she can’t quell the pride that wells up within her.

Todoroki pauses for a moment. “We worked hard,” he says simply. “However much training our classmates were putting in, we put in more.”

“And we’re the strongest!” Bakugou adds. “We can take any of those shitty extras!”

“Todoroki, thank you,” Aizawa cuts in. “Problem Child, your turn.”

Midoriya sticks his tongue out at Aizawa before stepping forwards. The class waits with bated breath on the third member of the famous trio. Is he rude and angry like Bakugou, or cool and distant like Todoroki?

Green eyes level them all with a glance, and then his face breaks into a smile so blinding Azuma wants to ask Morita to provide cloud clover. “Hey guys,” he chirps, “My name is Midoriya Izuku, the last member of U.A.’s Big Three!” He puts Big Three in air quotes, like he’s not actually sure how he’s one of the three most powerful students at the best hero school in the country.

“He’s nice ,” Sando whispers to her, horrified. Azuma can’t help but agree - Bakugou is all raging temper, Todoroki is cold indifference, and they both give off an aura of power . This guy looks more like a bunny rabbit than a fearsome hero.

“So, the most important thing about work studies is the opportunity they provide you! Although you got some experience during your internships, work studies include a lot more field combat. You’ll be involved in a variety of different missions and get to work with a variety of pros whose style you might be able to learn from!” Midoriya rubs the back of his neck with his hand, grinning sheepishly. “You guys all have such cool quirks, I bet you’ll be able to go anywhere!”

Bakugou slaps the back of his head. “You think every quirk is cool, nerd!”

“Kaachan, that hurt!”

“Don’t touch him, Bakugou.”

“YOU WANNA GO, ICY-HOT?”

“ Enough ,” Aizawa’s capture weapon snaps out and ensnares the explosive blond. Their teacher has decided to shed his caterpillar sleeping bag and his hair hovers up off his shoulders as he erases Bakugou’s quirk. “Why is the Problem Child the only one of you who's actually good at this?”

“Thanks, Aizawa-sensei,” Midoriya mumbles, blushing red that spreads across his freckles. When Azuma peeks to the rest of the class, both boys and girls alike are openly staring at him, mouths gaping as they take in the ray of sunshine.

“I have an idea,” Bakugou snaps as he frees himself from Aizawa-sensie’s capture weapon. “Why don’t they do what we had to do?”

Midoriya shakes his head. “Kacchan, no way! You just want to beat up first-years.”

“He wants to beat us up?” someone shouts, and the classroom is aroar.

Todoroki coughs, and the noise dies instantly. “That’s not actually the worst idea Bakugou’s had.” His nose wrinkles. “And he’s had plenty.”

The blonde ignores the jab, face splitting into a truly terrifying grin. “See? Even Half-and-Half agrees with me, so you’re outvoted, shitty Deku.”

Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking before waving a lazy hand. “Whatever. It will be good for them to get the sparring experience. They’re only fighting one of you, though.” “We have to fight them?” Kibe exclaims, looking nauseous.

“Well,” Midoriya cuts in hastily to reassure them, sending a glare not-so-subtly in Todoroki’s direction. “It would be all of you against one of us. We had to do it our first year against Mirio-senpai and got our butts kicked, which is why Kacchan wants you to experience the same pain.”

“By Mirio-senpai, he’s talking about pro-hero Lemillion,” Todoroki explains at the confused glances. “When we were first years, him, Suneater, and Nejire-chan were the Big Three.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Midroiya laughs. “I actually did my first work-study with Lemillion under Sir Nighteye, so we got pretty close. I did my second one under Endeavour with these two.”

“No one gives a shit, nerd,” Bakugou snaps. “I wanna fight already!”

I think it’s interesting, Azuma can’t help but think. After all, being able to say you were close friends and worked with the number 4 hero is nothing to scoff at. She wonders if Lemillion is as energetic as he seems on the news.

Sando raises his hand, standing up when Aizawa nods to him. His wings twitch anxiously, but he keeps his back straight and chin up as he addresses the three third-years. “Don’t we only have to fight one of you?” At their nods, he pushes his glasses up and continues. “So why don’t we choose which one of you to fight?”

“Yeah!” Morita shouts, and the rest of the class nods along, murmuring their agreement.

Bakugou doesn’t seem phased. “Well, hurry up and make it official! I wanna kick all of your asses some time today!” Small explosions pop in his palms.

Midoriya tugs on his shirt. “Come on, Kacchan, don’t pressure them!” When the boy doesn’t budge, he rolls his eyes, wraps his arms under his armpits and physically drags him out of the classroom.

Bakugou lets out an all mighty screech and Aizawa-sensei smiles (if you could call it that). Todoroki seems unperturbed. “We’ll be in Gym Gamma for whenever you decide,” he bows to Aizawa and follows the other two out the door.

The moment the top three students in the school are gone, Sando takes to the front of the room. The class watches silently as he writes the kanji for all three names. “Now,” the class-president says, “we vote.”

Under Midoriya, he added a line. One by one, Midoriya’s name wracked up votes until there were 20 neat tick marks.

“Well,” Sando says drily, stepping back to survey the results. “I’m glad it was unanimous, at least.”

“Of course it was!” Shimoda scoffs.

“Why?” Aizawa’s dry voice cuts through the general chaos of twenty overpowered and rowdy teenagers, and they instantly fall silent. “Why did you all pick Midoriya?”

“Because he’s nice,” Azuma says.

“Because he’s not terrifying ,” someone adds.

Aizawa freezes. “You choose him because you thought he was weaker than the other two.”

“Well, yeah,” grinned Kibe. “The other two are terrifying, and we’ve never really heard of this guy before. He’s so much nicer than them, he’s gotta be the weaker of the three.” They shrug. “Not that he is weak, but we probably have a better chance.”

The class nods their agreement.

Aizawa stares at them for a moment, then two, and then he does something no Class 1-A student expects - he laughs. Doubled over, hands on his stomach, red eyes gleaming, the stoic teacher cackles.

“Ah,” he wipes at his eyes. “Funny.”

“So he’s not the weakest?” Azuma asks weakly.

Aizawa’s smile sharpens. “Weakest? He’s the strongest .” He fixes them all with a glare, tone changing abruptly, eyes dancing over looks of horror. “I hope you all take this as a lesson on judging by appearances. Midoriya Izuku might look harmless, but he’s been called the Future Symbol of Peace by heroes across Japan for a reason.”

“What’s his quirk?” Hirose looks like she’s going to vomit.

“Which one?” Aizawa grins nastily. “He has six.”

Sando hits his head on his desk with a thump. “Shit.”

Azuma can’t help but agree.

19 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

It’s All About The Game- Part 2

Sophomore Year

Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction (basketball, man!)

Warnings: None (at least for this part)

Word Count: Almost 11,000

Summary: Despite her hesitance, OC allows Changbin to become a regular mainstay in her seemingly normal high school life. But who is she to turn down someone willing to become friends? However, perhaps OC completely misread the situation because it seems like Changbin wants more than just friendship. The problem is OC has no idea how to handle his advances.

Notes: Yes, I waited until the very last day in December. New Years Resolution: Post at more appropriate times.

August

Message from Han Jisung:

I’m coming home today

My fingers trembled with excitement as I typed out a short reply, eager for the opportunity to see Jisung again after an entire summer waiting for his return. My only saving grace came in the form of the well-intended letters he sent in the mail from his campsite up north, talking about all the activities his older, and overly enthusiastic, camp counselor was forcing him to join. The letters made me laugh as I held them tightly in my hands, seeking out his familiar words as I found myself inadvertently experiencing his adventures with him, vicariously living through Jisung’s expertly crafted stories. They stood in stark contradiction to his contributions: various postcards from the expensive European cities his summer league basketball team were visiting to participate in tournaments.

London

I won MVP in the tournament again.

Berlin

You’d be impressed with the game I had today.

Paris

I miss you, Reynolds.

I was beginning to think Changbin actually genuinely believed I wanted to hear about all the places he visited while I was stuck in our boring hometown. In actuality, I managed an impressively over dramatic eye roll each time I found another card in my mailbox. Unlike Jisung’s meaningful letters, Changbin decided to only think about himself, as per usual, and it was already difficult knowing that we now shared a tentative friendship.

As for myself, in addition to the thrill of Changbin and Jisung’s mailings, I tried my best to enjoy my summer vacation. For example, I often joined Felix, Minho, and Hyunjin at the park to play basketball, even if it was devastatingly sad to explain basic fundamentals every time we tried to play 2 on 2. I also took the initiative of studying relentlessly for my PSATs, knowing I would be grateful for the advantage later on when I was actually forced to take the dreaded examination just for a shot at a decent University. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, I started learning how to drive from my father. Unfortunately, I was proving to be a pretty lousy motorist, often forgetting to even put the car in drive before my eager foot pressed down on the gas pedal.

In conclusion, it was a lousy summer and I was more than ready for school to start back again, even if that meant dealing with Seo Changbin for another year.

“Jisung!”

I watched with barely contained excitement as Jisung finally located me sitting at the bar of the restaurant he recommended. A wide smile broke out across his face, eyes lighting with mischief as he joined me on the narrow bar stool next to my own. “I didn’t know it would be this crowded,” Jisung said, studying the masses of students occupying the surrounding booths and tables.

“School starts back soon,” I said with a shrug.

“I kind of like it,” Jisung said, leaning in closer. “How was your summer?”

“Boring,” I groaned, dragging my water closer. “I’m supposed to take Driver’s Ed soon and I’m already convinced of tragic failure.”

“Tragic?” Jisung chuckled, sandy-colored bangs falling into his eyes. “Have you been practicing?”

“Almost every day,” I lamented.

“Maybe I could help you?” Jisung suggested. “I think it’s about time you chauffeur me around instead.”

I glared at him playfully. “Is that so?”

“Look, Kayda,” Jisung grinned, “it’s not so hard once you get the hang of it, and I happen to make an excellent teacher.”

“You don’t understand what you’re dealing with,” I groaned, wincing as I remembered my father’s furious expression after running into the trash bins situated at the edge of the street for pickup.

“We can start this weekend,” Jisung suggested.

I studied him carefully, trying to figure out if he was being serious. “Are you sure?”

“Why not?” Jisung shrugged. “I had a pretty boring summer too.”

“Your letters didn’t mention that,” I joked, unconsciously moving in closer to him, our shoulders briefly brushing together.

“There wasn’t anyone to talk to,” he said. “I didn’t like the other kids in my cabin. They were obviously not interested in camp formalities.”

“Camp formalities?”

“And decorum!” Jisung shouted, ignoring the way some of our classmates glared at his outburst. “I’ve never seen such blatant disregard for the rules.”

“What? Did they stay up after curfew?”

“Well, I did that too,” Jisung said, earning him an eye roll in return. “I’m talking about the fucking.”

I nearly choked on my water, gaping at Jisung with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

“It’s an old cliche,” Jisung went on as if he wasn’t openly discussing such a taboo activity in the middle of a public restaurant. “Camps always make teenagers extra horny.”

“And were you participating?” I dared to ask him, surprised by the little flare of jealousy that briefly ruined my previous smile.

“I made good use of my hand,” Jisung said, grinning brightly while I blushed in response, finding words incapable of describing the unusual embarrassment of hearing him talk that way.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung continued because he definitely knew that his comment had left me flustered. “Are you alright?”

I waved him off, finishing off the entirety of my water as I tried to flush out the brilliant red undoubtedly coloring my cheeks. “It’s fine.”

“Ugh,” Jisung grimaced, attention refocusing on something behind me. “Your stupid boyfriend is here.”

“He’s not my-” I trailed off as soon as I realized that Jisung was talking about Changbin, having been relentlessly teasing me about his sudden interest since the basketball ordeal in the park. He was obviously looking for a rise which I refused to give him as I turned around to make eye contact with my life’s biggest nuisance.

“Reynolds!” Changbin loudly announced, commanding the attention of the entire restaurant.

“He knows how to make an entrance,” Jisung grumbled, appearing unusually downtrodden as we both waited for Changbin to approach, Felix and Minho hanging behind.

Changbin sat down next to me, immediately relaxing an arm casually against the back of my chair. I glared at the intruding limb, but Changbin didn’t take notice, far too busy signaling for our busy waitress as if his needs were more important than the rest of the restaurant’s patrons. “Did you order yet, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, eyes scanning the menu as he started listing off his demands to the poor waitress scrambling to write everything down.

“I ate before I came here,” I said, meeting Jisung’s gaze entreatingly as if he could possibly do anything to stop Changbin.

“You like fries, right?” Changbin asked, looking up at the waitress. “Did you get that?”

The waitress patiently nodded her head, bowing slightly when Changbin dismissed her. “Did you get my postcards, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, waving off his friends after they extended an invitation to join them at an open table.

“I got them,” I offered shortly, sighing as I realized that Changbin’s return, more so than Jisung’s, certainly meant that our cherished summer vacation was truly over.

Changbin smirked. “Were you impressed, Reynolds? We went to 9 different cities in Europe.”

“Congratulations,” I muttered, frowning when Changbin ignored my sarcastic comment in exchange for the soda the waitress had brought for him. I quickly turned to Jisung. “You can get us out of here right?”

Jisung pursed his lips, bouncing his fingers against his chin in faux consideration. “I don’t know, Kayda, it’s kinda funny to see you like this.”

I glared at him, inwardly groaning when Changbin tapped on my arm, a silent demand for my attention. “I didn’t know you were here, Han,” Changbin said, scoffing slightly at the older boy.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

Changbin narrowed his eyes. “I heard you were gone this summer too.”

“My dad forced me to go to a summer camp,” Jisung said, seemingly unbothered by Changbin’s obvious hostility.

Changbin moved in closer to me, nodding his head at our waitress when she dropped off an order of fries. “Here, Reynolds,” Changbin said, tone much lighter as he pushed them in my direction.

I rolled my eyes at him, but Changbin didn’t seem to notice. Jisung grinned, but the smile was far less authentic than usual. “When do you want to start your driving lessons, Kayda?”

“Driving?” Changbin turned to me instantly. “You asked Jisung to teach you?... I could’ve done it.”

It was almost laughable to see Changbin’s pouty expression, snatching a fry from my tray. “Jisung already has his license,” I pointed out.

“I get mine soon!” Changbin retorted.

“She’ll learn better from me,” Jisung said, already in the process of pulling out his wallet. “I have to help my mom this afternoon. I’ll see you at school, Kayda.”

I tried not to protest, offering Jisung a delicate wave as I watched him the entire time he left the dinner, pushing his way through the lingering crowd of students. “What’s his problem?” Changbin snorted, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked Changbin, ignoring his question.

“I didn’t,” Changbin said, smile slowly returning. “But I’m glad I saw you, Reynolds.”

Despite his attitude and clear dismissal of Jisung, I couldn’t help the way my heart fluttered at his earnest declaration.

September

It was almost comical, slowly watching Jisung’s enthusiasm fade away the longer he attempted to coax me down the street in his beat-up Ford. Of course, Jisung had every right to be frustrated, especially considering how long his impromptu lesson had been progressing. At this point in time, I was deemed a lost cause and I was thoroughly embarrassed by my ineptitude.

“You don’t have to press the gas so hard,” Jisung gasped, clutching tightly to the safety bar above his head.

“Sorry,” I murmured quietly, ashamed that I couldn’t understand something so simple.

Jisung cleared his throat. “You did warn me.”

I sighed, bouncing my forehead against the steering wheel. “I don’t know why it’s hard for me.”

“Everyone learns at their own pace,” Jisung tried to reassure me, but his words had little effect on my failing confidence.

“It’s okay,” I said. “We can stop for the day.”

“Kayda,” Jisung tried again, reaching for me across the console, but I brushed his hand away, unfastening my seatbelt before grabbing the door handle. “You did fine!” Jisung insisted as he hurried to catch up to me.

“I might as well ask my neighbor if she’ll keep driving us,” I said, pausing outside the door to my house. “I’m sorry about today. It wasn’t that fun.”

“I had a blast,” Jisung said, whining when I slapped his arm.

“You don’t need to lie.”

“Seriously, Kayda,” Jisung said, shuffling forward with slight trepidation. “I like hanging out with you.”

“Even if I tried to kill us?”

“We were never in danger,” Jisung scoffed, playfully moving in to ruffle my hair.

“Hey!” I protested.

“Keep practicing,” Jisung said. “Promise me you won’t give up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I huffed impatiently.

“Kayda...”

“Fine,” I relented. “But it’s your fault when I crash.”

The following day at school, I walked into my first-period class while mindlessly adjusting the buttons on my coat sleeve. My thoughts were occupied, which probably explained why I was so caught off-guard when I first heard his voice. I startled in the doorway, eyes growing wide when I realized Changbin was sitting at my usual table at the back of the room, a smirk pasted on his lips.

I clutched tightly to the shoulder straps of my bag, watching Changbin pull out the chair next to him, a clear invitation. I rolled my eyes but unwittingly started for the back of the room, ignoring the expressions of shock and confusion on my classmates’ faces. “You could make a bigger scene next time,” I grumbled, tossing my bag into the floor as I slouched down next to Changbin.

“You’re not more excited to see me, Reynolds?” Changbin smirked. “I transferred into this class just for you.”

“Great,” I droned sarcastically, impatiently urging the clock to move faster.

“Seems pretty boring,” Changbin remarked, fingering the edges of his brand new textbook, a stark contradiction to my well-used offering.

“I need it for my academic cluster,” I said, trying to ignore the way his arm fell across the back of my chair.

“Basketball workouts start soon,” Changbin reminded me as if I could have possibly forgotten.

“I know.”

“And as friends...” Changbin trailed off, raising one questioning brow, “some of my teammates and I spend time practicing at the park on the weekends.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You should join us, Reynolds.”

I eyed Changbin cautiously. “Why?”

“Because,” he enunciated, gazing at me entreatingly, “we’re friends, right?”

“So you say,” I muttered, tersely bouncing my leg under the table, anxious for our teacher to arrive and end this mundane conversation.

“Saturday afternoon,” Changbin said, nodding in satisfaction. “I can pick you up around noon?”

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

“Well, consider it an open invitation.”

“That I decline.”

“Reynolds,” Changbin whined, “Felix will be there.”

“I didn’t know Felix was on the basketball team,” I said, growing more and more self-conscious of the way his fingers would occasionally graze against my spine.

“It’s more of friendly competition.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but peer pressure isn’t cool.”

“You’ll love it, Reynolds.”

I sighed because his reassurances weren’t inciting the excitement he was probably hoping for.

Message from Seo Changbin:

I’m outside, Reynolds.

“Mom, I’ll be back before dinner,” I called out into the kitchen on the way out the door.

As promised, Changbin was waiting in his car. “Reynolds,” he greeted me when I was situated inside. “You should start answering my messages.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed, fastening my seatbelt. “Let me put that on the list.”

Changbin grinned, leaning back in his leather seat as he turned on the radio. Both windows were rolled down, allowing fresh air to circulate through the car. It was still hot, but the breeze helped counter the sweat starting to perspire on my skin, even if it was a bad combination with his expense seats.

“No AC?” I muttered.

“Nature isn’t enough for you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, frowning at the way he laughed at the expense of my comfort. Thankfully, the drive wasn’t very long and we finally pulled into the parking lot a mere fifteen minutes later.

“You ready, Reynolds?” Changbin teased, choosing to ignore my glare as he started up the well-worn path to the courts where everyone else was already waiting. I hesitantly followed his footsteps, only allowing a reluctant smile when I saw Felix and Hyujin talking together with two unfamiliar faces. “This way,” Changbin suddenly directed, pulling me towards the group of boys with a surprisingly powerful grip. “This is Seungmin,” Changbin said, patting the boy in question roughly on the back. “And Jeongin.”

“Hi,” Jeongin offered, an adorable smile permanently in place as he politely welcomed me.

“They’re both Freshmen,” Felix explained. “They’re trying out for the team this year.”

“Oh,” I nodded quickly. “Good luck, then.”

“They don’t need it,” Changbin scoffed, teasingly ruffling Jeongin’s hair to which the younger boy protested half-heartedly.

“Let’s pick teams,” Felix said, nodding at Changbin. “You can go first.”

Changbin took a step back, calling out for the other players. I lingered close to Felix, weary of the other boys joining our group, especially when it became clear that I was the only girl invited to play. Changbin rubbed his hands together, making a show of perusing his options. I rolled my eyes since it was obvious he would pick one of the older and more experienced boys. Yet, despite my absolute certainty, Changbin proved me wrong once again when his eyes landed on me. “Come on, Reynolds.”

I did my best to avoid looking completely stupefied while I ordered my feet to start working, falling behind Changbin while he and Felix continued rounding out their respective teams. “Again?” Hyunjin whined when he and Minho were the only two players left.

“I pick Minho,” Changbin said, smirking at the furious look Hyunjin wore as he stormed over to Felix’s side. “Let’s play!”

The sun was starting to set by the time everyone agreed to end the last game. I breathed out heavily, hands behind my hand as I tried to pull in more oxygen for my suffering lungs. It was difficult work keeping up with nine competitive teenage boys, but I was proud of my efforts, especially when it seemed like I was holding my own surprisingly well. “Not bad, Reynolds,” Changbin remarked after our team secured our first win courtesy of my well-timed jump shot.

“I’m surprised you passed it to me,” I admitted because, quite frankly, Changbin seemed to go out of his way to include me in every play.

“You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” he said, winking at me playfully before lining up at the half-court line to start the next game. By the end of our session, my team had won 3 out of the 4 games we managed to play under the remaining sunlight. And I’m half-way convinced that Changbin missed the final three on purpose just to allow Felix’s team one victory, even if it meant listening to Hyunjin brag about their superior endurance.

“How considerate,” I remarked to Changbin after the play.

He threw an arm around my shoulders to which I wrinkled my nose and complained about the proximity. “I’m a nice guy,” Changbin said and I despised the way I leaned in closer, an unconscious movement. “Ready to go home?” I managed a nod, ignoring the way he laughed at my speechlessness.

I trailed behind Changbin as we walked to his car, pausing at the trunk to throw in our gym bags. And my eyes widened in surprise when Changbin reached down for the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head before tucking the drenched fabric into the waistband of his gym shorts. “What?” Changbin questioned, frowning at the obvious way my mouth gaped open.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, looking away despite how difficult it was proving to be with Changbin growing even closer.

“Good game, Reynolds,” Changbin said, and I did my best to avoid looking at his bare chest.

“R-right,” I stuttered, blinking rapidly. “It was fun.”

Changbin’s resounding laughter was surprisingly endearing, eyes following me the entire time I entered his car.

October

Autumn was approaching which meant the days were growing shorter while a frigid cold was starting to settle, leaves falling in delicate shades of red and orange. The change in season was always expected, and I appreciated the break from the unforgiving summer months, the sun bearing down as I was often forced to retreat inside for fear of an unpleasant sunburn. But the weather wasn’t the only thing changing recently, and I knew something was wrong with Jisung, but he refused to tell me anything. “Everything’s fine,” he often reassured me, but the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes and his smile was forced as he talked to our other classmates.

I wanted him to trust me more, to willingly tell me whatever it was that was weighing heavily on his heart. And I did my best to find the answers, meeting him in the afternoons after school, hoping to show him that I was a reliable confidant. Yet, each subsequent day flew by with no promise of the conversation I desperately wanted.

And this afternoon, in particular, was proving to be no different.

“I’m a better choice than your neighbor, right?” Jisung asked as he drove us to my house.

I nodded as an acknowledgement, too tired to offer a coherent reply, a result of morning basketball workouts that drained my energy right along with regular classes. These days, Jisung had started taking me home from school as opposed to my neighbor. I was glad for the change, especially since it meant I could spend some time with Jisung.

“Tired?” he asked and I offered a delicate yawn.

“Basketball is tiring,” I said, pulling myself away from the window to look at Jisung. “You seem tired too.”

“There’s a lot going on,” Jisung offered vaguely and I pursed my lips as I considered his vague response.

We were both quiet for the remainder of the drive, and Jisung pulled into my driveway with a loud sigh. “Let’s stay outside.”

“Okay,” I agreed, watching him carefully now because I could always tell when someone was feeling burdened by an unpleasant truth. Nonetheless, I took Jisung to the backyard where I stole some blankets from the basement and spread them out along the grass. Jisung sat down on top of the worn fabric, fingering the holes at the edges before reaching out to pluck a sunflower free from its stem. “You don’t seem as happy these days,” I remarked, studying the way Jisung’s fingers brushed across the delicate petals of the flower he held.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, face shadowed by the way the sun hits the side of his profile.

“Nothing,” I said softly. “Do you want to do some work?”

“Will you help me with my essay?”

“Only if you promise me a massage because my shoulders are dying.”

“Deal,” Jisung agreed, managing a smile while he reached for his bag. Together, we worked diligently in the backyard as we attempted to conquer our matching piles of homework. Basketball was a recurring distraction, often forcing me to stay up late at night to complete assignments since I lost time during the day to work on essays about dead poets.

“You’re not as talkative,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

“It’s my mom,” Jisung said and I was surprised by his willing openness.

“And?”

Jisung picked another sunflower, holding it up to his eyes as he twirled the delicate stem between his elegant fingers. “She’s dying.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that and a painful silence fell between us.

November

Basketball tryouts were proving to be a substantial blow to my meager social life. I could barely find time to talk to Jisung, and I never forced him to wait for me in the afternoons anymore because tryouts could continue for hours. In the meantime, Changbin was more than willing to drive me home, especially since he liked to flaunt his shiny new license around school for everyone to notice.

But I missed my drives with Jisung, and I missed the way he always seemed to make the days a little less stressful. I wanted to talk to him, and I knew my best opportunity would be this coming Friday because tryouts would end early and I could ask him to wait for me in the parking lot without feeling guilty. Of course, telling Changbin about my change in transportation was a dramatic affair. “Why not, Reynolds?” Changbin pouted, blocking me at my locker after our shared morning class despite my attempts to evade him.

“I have something else to do,” I said, wishing he could be more amiable for once and just let it go.

Graciously, the bell for classes proved to be a wonderful distraction and Changbin reluctantly allowed me to flee quietly to my Chemistry class without any more protest. For the remainder of the day, I could only focus on the clock, urging the stubborn minute hand to move faster. All I had to do was finish out tryouts successfully and I could finally have some time with Jisung.

The afternoon bell rang loudly in my ears as I hurried to the locker room, changing into my practice clothes quickly. Of course, such rapid preparation wasn’t entirely necessary since I still had to make it through the last day of tryouts, but my mind was somewhere else. Even so, my impending meeting with Jisung didn’t inhibit me from doing my absolute best, breathing out heavily as I scrimmaged with my teammates, ignoring the watchful eyes of my coach as she studied our plays.

By the end of practice, I was more than ready for the stress of tryouts to be over with because I was exhausted both mentally and physically. Thoughts of Jisung didn’t help, which had returned full force now that my attention wasn’t occupied by basketball. Instead, I impatiently tapped my foot against the court as I waited for coach to announce final cuts.

“Okay,” coach said, carefully posting the team roster to the board outside her office. “For those of you who made it, I’ll see you Monday afternoon.”

Normally, I was never one to rush to the front to see my name, but Jisung was waiting which meant my sharp elbows were now a weapon to help me fight to the roster. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I found my name near the top, quickly shoving my way back through the crowd of my potential teammates.

I practically sprinted to the parking lot, ignoring the ache in my thighs courtesy of detestable shooting drills. But I smiled through the pain when I saw Jisung already inside his car, eyes watching me carefully as I ran the rest of the way to where he was parked. “I’m guessing you made the team,” Jisung teased after I was settled inside.

“Oh, yeah...” I trailed off, finding myself unable to tell Jisung the real reason behind my enthusiasm.

Jisung smirked, switching on the ignition before carefully navigating us onto the main road. “You said you wanted to talk?”

I nodded, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“For my reaction when you told me about your mom,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t really know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung said gently. “Most people don’t.”

“Is she okay right now?” I asked cautiously, keeping Jisung’s profile in my peripheral vision.

“You can come home with me,” Jisung suggested, eyes still trained forward. “To see my mom.”

I nodded without an ounce of hesitation. “Okay.”

I had never been to Jisung’s house before so my eyes were wide as I took in the simple one-story building, walking up the front porch steps to wait as Jisung wrestled his key in the lock. “She’s probably in her room,” Jisung told me, quietly leading me through the small living room and down a narrow hallway.

A door at the end was slightly ajar, and Jisung ushered me closer as he allowed me to walk inside first. “Hey, mom,” Jisung said, greeting the frail woman sitting up against a tall mountain of pillows. “Do you need anything?”

The woman shook her head, hollow eyes leaving Jisung to find me standing nervously in the doorway. “Who is this?”

Jisung smiled and encouraged me closer. “This is my friend.”

“What’s your name?” his mother asked, smile brighter than anything I had ever seen before. The only thing comparable would be Jisung himself who always proved to be an endless supply of the purest kind of light.

“Kayda,” I said, uncharacteristically shy.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, urging me closer while glancing over at Jisung who was now busy pouring water at the nightstand. “My son is very lucky.”

My cheeks heated as soon as I understood the implications of her observation. “Oh, I-”

“-Mom,” Jisung quietly interrupted, handing his mother one of the glasses. She accepted it gratefully, offering me a playful wink which only made my smile fall completely.

“I hate Mondays,” one of my new teammates muttered as she lounged on the bleachers with me after the conclusion of a brutal practice session.

“Tell me about,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. After meeting Jisung’s mom, I had returned home with a heavy heart, unable to find the courage to tell her that Jisung and I weren’t anything more than friends.

“Seo Changbin,” my teammate sighed and I instantly turned my head, watching the boy in question enter the gym with his friends. “Aren’t the two of you dating?”

“No,” I muttered out tersely, resuming my observation of the ceiling even though I could feel Changbin’s gaze from across the court.

And it was only a moment or two later when I heard his voice. “Reynolds,” he said, grinning down at me as he climbed the bleachers. My teammate let out a tired sigh, studying the two of us before allowing us the privacy that I didn’t really need. “Is this comfortable?” he asked, taking my teammate’s spot as he spread his 5’6’’ frame across the bleachers.

“It’s fine,” I said dismissively.

“I saw you guys practicing earlier,” Changbin said, never one to take a hint even if it was waiting right in front of him.

“Did you?”

“You looked good out there, Reynolds,” Changbin said, reaching up to tap his fingers on my thigh. “You’re faster than everyone else.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, wondering if it would be too obvious if I sat up to leave...But that might be too abrupt.

“Are you sticking around for our practice?” he asked with a hopeful tone.

“I’m going home with my neighbor,” I said.

“You should stay one time,” Changbin continued. “I learned a lot about basketball just by watching games on TV with my dad.”

I frowned because I did the same thing. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your teammates?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “This is my special way of building anticipation.”

“Isn’t that too arrogant?”

“It’s called confidence,” Changbin said instead. “You’ll be leading your team too, especially if you keep improving.”

His comment was surprisingly touching. “Is this what you tell all your friends?”

“Just the ones who deserve it,” Changbin said earnestly, allowing a relaxed sigh. “You know, Reynolds,” Changbin grinned. “I think you’re the best player on the Varsity team.”

His words were unexpected and I was caught off-guard by my own smile. “Why is that?”

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” Changbin said. “I’ve watched you play before.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course,” Changbin said, turning his head slightly to meet my gaze. “But

I think that some of your teammates are jealous.”

“I know they are.”

“If they give you any problems, you let me know,” he said, holding up his pinky for me which I allowed to wrap around my own, sealing his promise.

December

I found Jisung lingering outside my first-period classroom, arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorway. It was obvious that he was waiting for me, so I carefully made my way through the crowded hallways to anticipate his forthcoming dialogue. “Kayda,” he smirked, nodding his head in my direction. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“My neighbor was late this morning,” I said. “Something about an argument with her sister.”

“You won’t have to worry about that when you get your own license,” Jisung said, managing a ghost of his alluring smile.

“I know,” I grumbled because my driving ineptitude was still a sore spot of conversation. “Did you need to talk?”

“I have something to ask you,” he agreed, demeanor shifting as he suddenly appeared a lot less eager than before. Uncertain. “It’s a lot to ask of you.”

I squinted my eyes, suddenly curious. “Well?”

“My mom has a lot of family in the mountains,” he said, eyes searching mine slowly. “But it’s been kinda hard this year to get together, especially since my mom’s diagnosis.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured softly, to which he attempted to shrug indifferently, even if the emotion was evident in his expression. “We usually visit around Christmas.”

“You can’t go this year?” I guessed, trying to empathize with Jisung’s circumstances.

“That’s not it,” Jisung said, gazing at me entreatingly. “I want you to come with us.”

I paused at the request, trying to understand the implications. “Why?”

“You make things easier,” Jisung said and I softened immediately at his words.

“I’ll ask my parents,” I told him, suddenly feeling an intense desire to satisfy his request. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“Thank you, Kayda,” Jisung smiled and it was the type of all-encompassing sunshine that always managed to warm my heart.

Basketball practice was excruciatingly difficult that afternoon. Our coach was preparing for this weekend’s basketball tournament, an annual precursor to winter vacation that both students and players alike looked forward to with anticipation. Our school was always expected to perform at the highest level of athleticism, frequently moving through the tournament bracket to the final round of scheduled play. It was a cherished tradition that always managed to fuel my coach’s desire to include as many sprints in a single session as one could manage before players were forced to rush to the bathroom to lose whatever food was still in their stomachs.

“Nice job, ladies,” she nodded at the end of our time. “I want everyone at the gym early on Saturday.”

A dozen or so nods of agreement before we were officially dismissed. Which meant the boy’s team immediately started for their turn at the court, leaving a few of my fellow players flushed with nervous giggles. It also meant the arrival of Seo Changbin who never missed an opportunity to grace me with his presence. “Reynolds,” he said, panting a little from his brisk jog over. He had learned that I tried to leave practice early, stuffing my belongings into my gym bag in the hopes of escaping before he had a chance to utter a single consonant of my last name. “I’ve been trying to find you all day.”

“It can’t be that difficult,” I huffed. “You memorized my schedule.”

“But this is important,” he said while hurriedly shuffling through the small binder in his hands, finding the appropriate form. “I’m doing a co-ed basketball camp over break,” Changbin said, forcefully shoving the paper at me. “You could always come too, Reynolds.”

I smoothed out the crinkled sheet, reading across the invitation. “Where did you find this?”

“Coach showed it to me,” Changbin said. “But I thought of you.”

“How considerate,” I snickered before quickly remembering my promise to Jisung. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go.”

“Oh,” Changbin responded, face falling as he rocked back and forth in front of me. “That’s okay, Reynolds. I guess I’ll see you after break instead.”

I watched him carefully because I didn’t like the way my heart broke a little at his simple acquiescence.

Jisung came to pick me up early at my house on the morning of our scheduled trip to the mountains. My entire body was still sore, muscles screaming in agonizing protest as I forced myself to grab my bags and trudge down the hallway. My mom greeted me in the kitchen, handing me a couple of Ibuprofen which I gratefully accepted.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had been in so much pain. And I didn’t know if it was entirely due to the demanding tournament in which my team had finished runner-up or the fact that Jisung was taking me to see his family like we were something more than friends. I mean, doesn’t it qualify as relationship-status when the attractive guy who frequently treated you to frozen milkshakes takes you home with him?

“You look nervous,” Jisung remarked, appearing entirely at ease behind the wheel of his car.

“Maybe a little,” I said in return, refusing to offer more details.

“Why?” Jisung asked. “It’s just my family, Kayda. I promise we aren’t ruthless drug lords or something.”

“I’d hate to understand how your mind works,” I said, gazing out the window because the land had transformed around us, smooth plains turning into rising hills- a series of dips like a roller coaster.

“You should know by now,” Jisung said, smirking. “I’m kinda weird.”

I scoffed at the comment. “I think your problem is the missing filter between your mouth and brain. Do you ever think about what you’re going to say?”

“No,” Jisung shrugged. “But sometimes you don’t either.”

“Really?” I immediately questioned. “This coming from the guy who swore that he saw a shark swim upstream in a freshwater river coming home from his last excursion to New York’s Comic-Con.”

“Point taken.”

Message From Seo Changbin:

You know they make this thing called FaceTime, right? Anytime you want to see my pretty face, you know what to do.

Jisung’s family cabin was modest, but that didn’t take away from the beauty surrounding the two-story structure. The woods were gorgeous with the faint remnants of snow blanketing the ground, melting into cool rivulets that flowed steadily between makeshift canals. The sun filtered through the trees to throw an interesting contradiction of light and shadow over the empty foliage.

“Well?” Jisung prodded, pulling me closer by my shoulder. His coat brushed against mine, rustling the fabric between us.

“It’s nice,” I said, studying the picturesque-sight while Jisung led me to the front porch, stomping his boots off on the crusty welcome mat faded and worn from years of use.

I swallowed hard when the door opened and an elderly woman stepped outside, letting out an impossible shriek as she went to collect Jisung’s puffy cheeks between wrinkled hands. “Jisungie! So handsome.”

“This is my aunt,” Jisung said, cautiously pulling back from the hands holding him hostage. “Merida, this is my friend, Kayda.”

“Hello,” I said, holding out a hand in greeting which apparently catalyzed an even stronger reaction from the woman whose arms constricted around my middle without so much as a warning.

Jisung was visibly embarrassed as he offered me an apologetic look. Meanwhile, I struggled to figure out what I needed to do with my hands as Merida commented on how long my hair was. “I used to have long hair,” she said, finally releasing me. “Yours is so beautiful!”

“Oh, thank you,” I managed, wincing when she let out another squeak, grabbing my hand because she desperately needed to introduce me. “Everyone! Come meet, Kayda!”

I struggled to locate Jisung while I was moved from person to person, matching names to the faces of various aunts and uncles, grandparents and grandchildren, and those rather annoying cousins who promised me that they were a lot better than Jisung. I frowned at their blatant rudeness but chose not to comment because I didn’t want to say more than necessary. Because this was Jisung’s family and, whatever our relationship now meant between us, I didn’t want to leave a poor impression.

Jisung’s mother found me last, situated in an upright position on a bed in one of the upstairs rooms. “Kayda,” she murmured softly, grabbing my hands between hers and ushering me onto the bed. “How was your trip? Do you like the cabin?”

“It’s lovely,” I told her, glancing up at the sound of a creaking board, relieved to see Jisung standing there watching the two of us.

“We’re not old fashioned you know,” his mother continued, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “We can let you two share a room.”

“Mom,” Jisung whined, saving me from any further surprises by graciously excusing the two of us. “Sorry,” he whispered to me in the hallway. “They’re just really excited.”

“It’s okay,” I said, even though I did feel a little irritated that Jisung hadn’t bothered to prepare me more.

“We don’t have to share a bed or anything,” Jisung said. “I can sleep on the air mattress.”

“Thank you,” I said, glancing back at the closed door. “Do you want to see her alone?”

Jisung nodded. “You can stay in our room for now.”

I waited until Jisung had closed the door behind him before mustering up enough courage to ask one of his rude cousins to show me where I was staying.

Message to Han Jisung

Where are you?

Message from Han Jisung

Outside.

The leaves crunched loudly beneath my feet as I walked across the front lawn, searching for Jisung. His response to my message had been vague as if he really didn’t want to be found, but that only worried me for his well-being. The sun was setting low against the backdrop of the mountain peaks, breaking the rays of light in dramatic patterns. I inhaled the crisp, cold air with a satisfied sigh, stuffing my hands in my pockets to prevent my fingertips from growing numb. In actuality, I quite liked it up here, admiring the simplicity of the natural splendor. Maybe I could move to the mountains one day in the future, living in a cabin like Jisung’s because it was quite nice compared to the city.

I paused at the edge of a trail, squinting against the dying light. Even if my eyes were not made to accommodate easy viewing at night, I could still make out Jisung sitting at a wooden picnic table alone. I glanced back at the cabin, noting the light on over the porch before walking down the path, careful to mind the jutting rocks and arched roots rising from the ground.

“Jisung?”

His voice was hoarse, tears still discernible even if everything else was losing focus. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have a reason to be.”

I climbed onto the bench next to him, leaving very little space between our bodies. Jisung sniffled as he leaned in closer to me, watching the sunset against the backdrop of the skeleton trees.

“Is it your mom?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded because there wasn’t anything left to say.

Message from Seo Changbin:

We can still have conversations over break, you know?

Jisung and I eventually made our way back inside the cabin once the sun was completely gone, leaving the half-moon at its post. “You’re so cold,” Jisung said, curling his fingers through mine.

My limbs were stiff, joints aching as I followed Jisung back up the trail, drawn to the light of the cabin like a delicate moth. “Are you okay?” I asked, the question lingering between us while Jisung opened the door.

“I will be,” he whispered in return.

“I’m always here,” I told him, anxiously worried that Jisung might break down at any moment, and I didn’t think I could handle that. Because Jisung was sunshine, and I was the desperate tree growing at all sorts of angles just to feel his light.

Our room was relatively small and Jisung’s cousins had taken the air mattress earlier despite my condemnation. “We can share the bed,” I said, tone uncertain as I pulled back the sheets.

“Yeah?” Jisung said, watching me as I threw off my coat before making myself comfortable on the bed.

“Come on,” I ushered him, holding up the sheet and allowing Jisung to lie down next to me.

“Thank you, Kayda,” Jisung said, nose brushing mine from our close proximity. “You’ve done a lot for me.”

“Well, you had to suffer through my bad driving.”

Jisung chuckled and I savored the sound, the deep rumbling from his chest which was crowded against my hands. “You mean a lot to me.”

I froze next to him, eyes trying to make out his features in the dark room. But Jisung remained a mystery, an imperceivable canvas which was growing closer with every thunderous beat of my heart. His breath was warm, short pants from his mouth which cooled against mine. Jisung’s lips were incredibly soft, a stark contrast to the unwavering grip his fingers kept as they dug into my jaw to direct my movements. I trembled at the first touch, the smooth caress of his tongue against my bottom lip, a sensual question which I answered by parting my lips for him, allowing him access to the deepest parts of me that only his rays could touch. My eyes fluttered open, able to make out his own now that we were in such intimate proximity. Jisung’s gaze was filled with adoration and I could so easily lose myself in an earnest gaze, but that was impossible to do when all I could think about was Changbin.

January

Message from Seo Changbin:

You ignored me over break, Reynolds. Can you at least spare some time at school?

January was one of those impossible months to predict because it was either even colder than December or manageably warm which was still problematic since Climate Change was an ever-present threat. I woke up that morning and checked the temperate, deeming it to be somewhere in between those extremes. I had arrived home sometime over the weekend which meant my bags were still unpacked and I had no idea where my new gloves had disappeared.

I was running late for class when I finally arrived at school thanks to my mother who had the day off. I stopped by my locker to briefly exchange textbooks, erroneously almost leaving my homework stuffed into the bottom of my three-ring binder. “Reynolds.”

I groaned when I heard the familiar husk to his voice. “I’m late.”

“Is your phone not working?”

“It’s fine.”

“Well,” Changbin said, “if you had answered, then I wouldn’t need to here.”

“You still don’t need to be here.”

“How was your break?” Changbin asked, refusing to acknowledge my comment while standing against the lockers next to mine.

“Cold,” I said, refusing to even acknowledge the issue of Han Jisung and the kiss we shared in his tiny cabin bedroom.

Changbin sighed wistfully. “I told you, Reynolds, you would have had a better time with me.”

I chose to scoff at his comment. “How would you know?”

“I’m insulted, Reynolds,” Changbin said, fanning his fingers out against his broad chest. “You would’ve loved the camp. The arena is really nice at Christmas.”

“Just as friends,” I said, watching Changbin from the corner of my eye. “You’re making this sound romantic, Changbin, considering the fact that we’re only friends.”

Changbin’s eyes dropped from mine. “I know that, Reynolds. You like to remind me every day.”

I slammed my locker closed, feeling something akin to guilt. “Sorry.”

“Did something happen, Reynolds?” he asked, peering up at me cautiously like he knew he was overstepping our boundaries.

“Nothing happened,” I said quickly, stepping around him because I suddenly really needed to go to class and Changbin was crowding me.

Avoiding Jisung was becoming something of a habit, peeking cautiously around corners, staggering into class at the last minute in case he might be waiting in the doorway. And I know it was terrible to ignore Jisung, but I still had no idea how I could possibly talk to him after the kiss. Coincidentally, it only drove me closer to Changbin who was perfectly willing to drive me home after school or invite me out on the weekends. I quickly came to the conclusion that I was using Changbin to fill the places in my life that Jisung had previously occupied, not that Changbin minded in the slightest.

“Your house?” I questioned into the phone, my hand pausing over the popcorn bowl waiting between my legs. Recently, I had started to accept his incoming phone calls and even dial his number a time or two because Changbin was actually quite useful when it came to Algebraic Equations.

“Why not?” Changbin returned. “I have a lot of cool games we could try.”

It sounded like it meant a lot more to him, but I didn’t bother looking past the surface. “Will there be food?”

“Is that a yes, Reynolds?”

“Changbin.”

“Whatever you want, Reynolds.”

“Are you picking me up?”

“Give me ten minutes.”

Changbin’s house was fresh out of the Notebook, an old-school antebellum mansion that probably cost more than the entire town. And because it was Changbin’s house, I got to hear a thorough backstory concerning its history, meaning Changbin’s great-great-grandfather or whatever had likely never anticipated someone like me stepping across the marble-tiled floors. “What do you think, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, looking at me like my answer might change his entire life which was ridiculous because Changbin had probably impressed plenty of people.

“I like it,” I said, perhaps making Changbin’s entire year if the impressive smile he wore was anything to go by.

“The game room is upstairs.”

And it took up an entire section of the house, resembling some kind of futuristic arcade where a quarter in the machine meant relaxing in fine luxury chairs while playing an unreleased version of Final Fantasy with an espresso in hand. “Want anything?” Changbin asked from the bar.

“Surprise me,” I said, running my fingers against the side of the air hockey table that was spotlessly clean.

“What do you want to play?” Changbin asked, handing me a glass of water. A simple exchange that nonetheless meant a whole lot more to me than I thought. Suddenly, I was far too excited, surrounded by Changbin’s extravagant wealth.

“Everything.”

February

When Jisung was absent from school for an entire week, I knew something was wrong. Yet, no matter how many messages I directed to his phone, a response notification never lit up my phone screen. Was it partially my fault? Since I had done a remarkable job of avoiding him for an entire month.

“Why do you look so down?” my teammate asked as we lounged together on the bleachers, a regular occurrence.

“Jisung hasn’t been answering any of my messages.”

“I didn’t think you guys were friends anymore.”

“Oh,” I said, clearing my throat. “What made you think that?”

“Haven’t seen you together since Christmas break. Figured you probably came to your senses and started fucking Changbin.”

“I’m not dating Changbin,” I said, but there was a little less venom behind my usual conviction. “Jisung and I weren’t a couple anyway.”

“Well, maybe he has something else on his mind.”

“I guess.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, even if your little love triangle was super entertaining to watch.”

“There’s no love triangle.”

“Personally, I’m rooting for Changbin to win but a couple girls on the team are thinking that Jisung is the endgame for sure.”

Had my life really become so complicated?

February 14th was a rueful day and I despised the commercial aspect to a holiday that had no real purpose in existing. Nevertheless, I wasn’t entirely negative because starting tomorrow, Walmart’s candy would be on sale and I could buy enough to last me until Easter.

Of course, for a lot of other people, Valentine’s day meant a lot, especially those mushy couples who probably secretly loathed one another and the idea of parting with more than 20 bucks for flowers. Still, I guess there was some merit in showing affection for someone you cared about. Sadly, I didn’t really know what that meant since I never got the experience.

I arrived early to class, a change of pace which meant I was sitting alone at my usual table with Changbin. Perhaps he wouldn’t show up at all, deciding to stay at home simply because of a sudden whim’s notice. And that would be perfectly acceptable to me, but I could never get so lucky.

“Reynolds,” Changbin said, standing behind me at our table and I didn’t have the strength to push him away.

“What?”

“It’s Valentine’s day,” Changbin reminded me, gently depositing a single red rose in front of me.

The gesture was surprising and it elicited a strange reaction because I couldn’t stop myself from touching the smooth petals. “Really?”

“Let’s go for milkshakes after school.”

I smiled because I actually loved the idea and couldn’t believe Changbin wanted something so simplistic. I was half-expecting a giant display of balloons waiting for my outside or a banner draped across the front of the school with my name written in big bold letters. But I got nothing like that and it was incredibly touching. “Okay.”

Jisung came back the next week and I could no longer find it in me to avoid the inevitable. I cornered him after class one afternoon, clutching tightly to the straps of my book bag. “Jisung.”

He turned around with a start, eyes widening in obvious surprise to see me standing there. “Kayda?”

“You were gone last week,” I said, glancing up at him sheepishly. “Is your mom alright?”

Jisung sighed, shoulders falling as his entire body seemed to collapse under the weight of his burden. “We had a scare, but she’s back home now.”

“I’m glad,” I told him sincerely. “Neither of you deserve this.”

“It always happens to the best people,” Jisung said, somewhat bitterly as he closed his locker door.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” I said, flushing at the apology. “I didn’t know what to say after what happened before.”

“You mean the kiss?” Jisung guessed, eyeing me curiously. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It was unexpected,” I said. “Since we’re just friends.”

Jisung took a long time to respond and I grew more and more anxious as I waited for his response. “I understand.”

But his tone was cold.

March

Message from Seo Changbin:

Come over, Reynolds.

“You’re heavy,” I complained, pushing against his shoulder as he leaned more of his weight against mine.

Changbin laughed, seemingly amused at my struggles. “I like you though.”

I huffed loudly, allowing him to lay his head in my lap, gazing up at me with mischievous brown eyes. “Do you even want to watch the movie?”

“I’ve seen Fast and Furious,” Changbin said, eyeing the movie from the corner of his eye with disinterest.

“Why did you recommend it, then?”

“Because you wanted to see it,” Changbin said. “But you can watch this in real life, anyway. I can take my car down to the track.”

“Good for you.”

Changbin smirked, tongue-in-cheek as he returned his attention to me. “Learned how to drive yet, Reynolds?”

I frowned. “No.”

“It’s not hard,” Changbin said. “Didn’t Han Jisung teach you?”

His tone was bitter. “He tried.”

“Probably not hard enough,” Changbin said, lifting himself up from my lap. “Do you want me to try?”

“I’m impossible.”

“Well,” Changbin grinned, “I kinda like a challenge.”

Changbin’s car was far too expensive for my inexperienced hands and I was shivering as I started the ignition. “Relax, Reynolds,” Changbin said from the passenger seat, appearing entirely at ease.

“What do I do?” I asked him in a panic, but Changbin merely reached down for the gear shift.

“Put it in drive.”

My fingers were shaking, tightening with a vice grip around the poor instrument. My foot was pressed down hard against the break, mind blanking the longer I questioned myself, especially with Changbin watching me. “I’m sorry,” I said, taking a deep breath as I pulled the gear shift back, letting off the brake to press down on the gas.

The car immediately lurched backward and I panicked, applying even more pressure to the gas pedal before realizing I had put the car into reverse instead of drive. The resounding sound of the mailbox behind me snapping beneath the weight of Changbin’s fancy sports car was impossibly loud. I fought back tears as I apologized repeatedly, managing to put the car back into park as I studied the ruined mailbox in the side view mirror.

“So what, Reynolds?” Changbin shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the destruction.

I looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be okay with that?”

“It didn’t hurt anybody,” Changbin said. “If you start to worry about everything you do wrong, then it’s even harder.”

I held tightly to the steering wheel. “Should I try again?”

“Why not?” Changbin shrugged. “This is more fun than I was expecting.”

“Driving isn’t supposed to be fun,” I said. “It’s serious.”

“Kayda, you sound like one of those scary-ass educational videos they make us watch in Driver’s Ed.”

“And?”

“Try to enjoy it more,” Changbin said. “You don’t have to be so tense when you’re driving.”

I let out a deep breath, my hand reaching back down for the gear shift. I relaxed a little when I felt Changbin’s hand on top of mine, guiding me through the movements as the car started to roll forward. “Is it too fast?” I asked, failing to keep the panic from my tone.

“You’re doing great, Reynolds,” Changbin said, leaning over to steady his other hand against my splayed out fingers on the wheel. “There’s nothing difficult about it.”

I was trembling now for a different reason, but Changbin didn’t need to know about that.

April

Jisung was ignoring me, which meant I had to ask Changbin to drive me to my scheduled test, anxiously fidgeting in his leather seat during the entire drive. I had no time to worry about Jisung, even though I was deeply hurt by his indifference. Instead, all I could think about was my driving test and how horrible it would be to fail the computer questions because they were probably the easiest part.

“You worry too much, Reynolds,” Changbin remarked, pulling into the parking lot of the DMV.

“I can’t help it,” I told him.

“If I can pass this, then you can,” Changbin said. “You’re way smarter than me.”

“I don’t think it has much to do with intelligence,” I said, rubbing my hands together as I carefully opened his car door.

“Don’t think too hard then,” Changbin grinned, faintly protesting when I reached across the console to smack his arm.

“What’s wrong with you! I’m having a small panic attack.”

“Yeah? Should I take you to the hospital?”

“You’re just asking for it,” I snapped, huffing indignantly when he started laughing. A nasal affair that would normally make me cringe.

“Why?” Changbin asked. “You know what your problem is, Reynolds? You take everything too seriously. Just relax for once.”

“But what if I fail?” I whined miserably.

“Then you take it again,” Changbin said. “I promise I won’t hold it against you forever.”

“I really hate you right now.”

FLASH!

I blinked my eyes, trying to rid my vision of those annoying black spots courtesy of the camera flash. Meanwhile, the obviously indifferent clerk clicked away at his computer screen. “Congratulations,” he said, tone completely void of any life as he handed me a tiny square of plastic.

I couldn’t find it in myself to be annoyed with the DMV employee. After all, I was 90% sure that such an attitude was written in their handbook. But it really didn’t matter because I was holding my permit and it wasn’t some sort of crazy dream I had last night.

“Thank you,” I told him sincerely, even if the sentiment obviously meant nothing to him as he called for the next person in line.

I mustered just enough patience to walk at a normal pace through the musty office building until I was outside, finding Changbin leaning against the side of his sports car, sunglasses covering his eyes. The sight of him, however, broke down every last bit of self-control I had previously tried to maintain. “I passed!” I squealed, holding up my limited learner's permit for his eyes to see, desperately wanting to show him.

Changbin smirked as he took the permit from me. “What did I tell you, Reynolds? It’s not that hard.”

“You helped me so much,” I said, overcome with emotion, looking at him and, for the first time in my life, seeing past the arrogance and wealth, sarcastic comments and designer clothes. “Thank you.”

Changbin nodded, rolling his shoulders back as he took another step closer. “I get an award, right?”

I gave him a questioning look, rolling my eyes when his finger tapped against the side of his cheek. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s not a big deal, Reynolds,” Changbin whined.

I could always blame it on my mood, optimism bright as I grabbed Changbin’s shoulders to hold myself steady as I pressed my lips to the spot he had indicated. “Happy?”

Changbin didn’t respond, considering me with an expression that held a thousand different possibilities. His fingers were cold as they curled around my neck, thumbs digging into the skin at the base of my jaw. But his lips were warm, tentatively testing mine as he kissed me for the second time, leaving me with nothing but thoughts of Seo Changbin as I tasted spearmint gum when his tongue muscled its way inside.

May

Summer vacation meant classes were more trivial than usual, suffering through mindless lectures that meant nothing now that exams are over. But the school board insisted we stay until June. “Jisung’s ignoring me,” I told Changbin at lunch, locating the boy in question eating alone across the cafeteria.

Perhaps in the past, I’d never openly tell Changbin about any of my worries, but I was comfortable with him now and we understood each other a lot more than we did in the past. And he knew how much Jisung meant to me, although in a much different way than what I shared with Changbin. “Give him time,” he said, one hand on the back of my neck, massaging circles into the skin.

I shifted closer to Changbin, unconsciously seeking his warmth. “He’s going through a hard time alone.”

“He’s got family,” Changbin reminded me, gently pushing my tray closer. “But you need to eat, Reynolds.”

“That’s disgusting,” Felix quipped, turning his nose up at the two of us like he was too cool for such displays.

“Don’t be jealous,” Jeongin said, giggling like he was enjoying teasing Felix.

“Is it official, then?” Minho asked, leaning across the table despite Hyunjin’s attempts to move him out of the way.

“You don’t have to put titles to everything,” I told Minho.

“That’s just a bullshit excuse,” Minho argued, insistent as he eyed the two of us up and down. “Well?”

“We’re together,” Changbin said, hand settling over mine. “Will that satisfy you?”

“Very much,” Minho nodded, sitting back to whip out his phone. “The school’s gossip site needed some more drama.”

“There’s no drama,” I grumbled, glaring at Minho as he hurriedly typed away on his tiny phone keyboard.

“There always is,” Hyunjin said with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “Minho makes sure of it.”

“Stay out of my relationship,” Changbin warned Minho, even if the older boy appeared completely undeterred by Changbin’s threat.

Changbin was unusually quiet after school that day, clutching tightly to my hand as he walked us to his car. “You’re never like this,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully when he opened my door.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Changbin said. “This is how I always act.”

“Sure,” I said, waiting for him to start the car before continuing. “I think you have something to tell me.”

Changbin tensed at my words. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re too easy to read,” I teased him, laughing when he threw me an unimpressed look.

“Do you want some music as a distraction?” I said. “Fill up the awkward silence while you find the confidence to ask me what must be a very difficult question.”

“And you think I’m rude,” Changbin grunted, even as his hand quickly started to mess with the radio display.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, finding Jisung’s contact even if it was a futile affair to get any sort of response from him lately. His texts were few and far in between and he usually only answered if I asked about his mother. But I genuinely cared about his family because Jisung was important to me and I desperately wanted things to resume normally between us. I couldn’t help but think that my new relationship status with Changbin might have a lot to do with his silence.

“Should we just text each other?” I asked Changbin when we pulled up to my house.

He killed the engine without a word. “It’s nothing bad.”

“I figured that,” I said, turning around to face him. “You have my undivided attention.”

Another beat of silence passed between us and then...“I’ll be gone for the summer,” Changbin admitted, glancing up at me nervously. “And it might be too soon to ask this.”

“What do you mean?”

Changbin sighed, running his fingers through his black hair. “You could come with us, Reynolds. If you really wanted to.”

“On your vacation?”

“It’s more like a get-away,” Changbin grinned. “But you can think of it like that.”

I considered him carefully because I knew Changbin was always serious when it came to me. “You’re right, it might be too soon.”

Changbin sighed but didn’t appear too downtrodden. “It’s alright, Reynolds. We’ll go as slow as you want.”

“I’d like that,” I said, allowing him to lean across the middle to kiss me to his heart’s content.

June

Message to Han Jisung:

What happened?

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #seo changbin #seo changbin fanfic #enemies to lovers #han jisung

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