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jeogiyall · 4 years

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𝐈𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐝𝐞; 𝒏.𝒚𝒕

⚓︎ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷𝟺𝚔 (𝚒𝚔 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜)

⚓︎ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾; 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗋! 𝖺𝗎, 𝗒𝗎𝗍𝖺 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

⚓︎ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ: 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒! 𝗒𝗎𝗍𝖺, 𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗄𝗂𝖽! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗂! 𝖺𝗎, 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒, 𝖮𝖢 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾, 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 :) || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀.

⚓︎ ᴀ/ɴ: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 5𝗄 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅. 𝗂'𝗆 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾!! 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝖼𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗁𝖺 <3 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 + 𝖺𝗋𝗂'𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗑𝗈𝗑𝗈! -𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

The first thing you do upon entering ‘Yuta and Johnny’s Surf Shack’ is wipe dried tears from your cheeks. It wasn’t that you weren’t beyond ecstatic to be spending a summer in Oahu, Hawai'i, you really were! It was just terrible to be there with your family, terrible to be anywhere with your family. Seriously, you had been on the island for a week and the closest you’d come to having fun was watching your dad golf. Your mother had called you selfish upon your complaint, so you grabbed your bike from the front lawn and left with nowhere to go.

It had been an hour of pedaling with salty tears falling down your cheeks before there was a sign of people actually living here. Before you stumbled upon the small complex of stores it was just ‘Discount Golf Cart Tours!’ and ‘Authentic Oahu Dining!’ but something about this place felt real. Maybe it was the sound of water sloshing on the stilts that supported each building, or the smell of mango wafting out of the fresh grocers, or perhaps the man selling pineapples in front of the surf shack who had fallen asleep face first on his booth, but something about this felt genuine. It also didn’t hurt that you had been wanting to try out surfing. You parked your bike next to the pineapple stand, taking extra precaution to not wake him, and entered the surf store.

The first thing you noticed was that your cheeks were still wet (hence the wiping,) followed by the smell of sunscreen and cedar wood. It felt like stepping through a portal, one that transported you to a place without overbearing mothers or artificial golf courses. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, entirely missing the tan boy perched on the storefront counter.

The boy in question was prepared to spill out the usual speech, ‘Welcome to Yuta and Johnny’s surf shack, I’m Yuta and am here to help with any of your needs. Are you interested in renting or purchasing today,’ but something about you made his voice stop working. He blames it on the way your head tilted back, like you were soaking in rays of sunshine, then inhaled deeply as if to take it all in. It seemed personal, fragile. Like it’d be criminal to impose. He doesn’t even consider speaking until you catch him.

“Um... Are you interested in a rental?” His voice was low and gravelly, laced with an accent. You laughed awkwardly, entire body going pink.

“That obvious, huh?” You felt like an idiot standing there in pinstripe pajama shorts and a tacky button up that’s a few (read: three) sizes too big. Clothes weren’t exactly on your ‘escape the mother’ agenda.

“Oh, no!” His eyes go wide as he takes in your outfit, “I mean now that you mention it yes, but that wasn’t what I meant at first. Sorry.” You almost see his cheeks turn red.

“It’s okay, I look ridiculous.” He chuckles a little bit, a low and warm sound. You think that he has a nice smile, “I’m actually just browsing today, but I’ll let you know if I need help.” You watch his hair bounce as he nods, it’s light purple and so long that it tickles the tip of his chin.

You doddle around the store for thirty minutes, pretending to look at surf equipment that you have no idea how to use. You almost ask the boy what’s what, but something clenching at your throat prevents you from speaking. In the end you buy a bottle of SPF thirty and a pineapple from the man out front (it feels like you should, seeing as he didn’t kick your bike off of his booth.) The ride home is tranquil and quiet, like a scene out of a movie.

“I want to try surfing.” You lament aimlessly while hugging a pillow. It’s been a week since your excursion to the surf shack, and it’s been on your mind ever since. The surfing, and also maybe the boy working.

“Why?” Maddie Prescot, your neighbor, best friend, and (conveniently) father's largest business partner's daughter, asks while plopping onto your bed, “It’s so scary looking! Like what if you fall off or something, there’s no one else out there with you!” You roll your eyes playfully at the worried expression spreading on her face.

“That’s like the whole point, y’know our dads can’t talk to us if we’re in the middle of the ocean.” The words come out casual, almost as if they weigh nothing. When you see Maddie’s face her eyes are wide and her jaw is dropped.

“I take it back, sign me up right now.”

(While you two laugh together you think about the first time you met Maddie, the summer spent in Europe. It was when your fathers had just started working together, and terribly miserable. Seriously, two fourteen year old girls forced to sit in stuffy dresses and eat small portions at restaurants where you had to speak softly. She had approached you after the first dinner right as your stomach grumbled lowly.

“Are you still hungry?” You nodded reluctantly, “Me too, let’s get food delivered back to our houses.”

“Oh, um, I don’t-”

“Dad! (y/n)’s sleeping over!” She called across the narrow, Italian street. It was a summertime friendship, yet in a way it meant so much more. Maddie was the first person that understood any part of your life, and despite the fact that during the school year she was an entire country away it always felt like you could talk to her. Even if it was about something dumb, she was always there. )

“Are we getting uber food after dinner?”

“Always!” She answers, smiling in a way that looks familiar, “I do have to go get ready though, see you tonight!” She exits the room in a flurry, leaving behind the scent of strawberry shampoo and a grin on your face.

“Oh my gosh Maddie-”

“Shush, you’re gonna wake up my parents!” Maddie chided, loading a glass plate with a pink bar of soap on it into the microwave. Your brain was certainly tired, but not tired enough to think this was a good idea.

“You’re trying to make something explode, but yes my convincing you to not explode things is gonna wake up your dad who’s two floors away!” She smiles brightly at your words while pressing the on button.

“I’m glad that we’re on the same page!” You groan, feeling gray hairs popping out of your scalp just from the sight of her.

“I swear being friends with you is like being a babysitter.”

"Hiding from the rain?” The boy at the counter asks. You immediately notice that it’s the same boy that was manning the counter the last time that you ran away to ‘Yuta and Johnny’s Surf Shack,’ except now his skin is even tanner. You inhale deeply while cringing at the wet clothes on your skin.

“If I was, I definitely failed, don’t you think?” You tease, motioning to the soaked hair on top of your head. He laughs, a sound that nearly warms up your wet limbs, and nods.

“Pretty miserably, let me get you a towel.” You’re about to tell him ‘No, don’t even worry about it! I’m fine!’ but a shiver runs down your body, and you want nothing more than to be warm.

“Please.” He giggles at the slight crack in your voice, you think that it’s the first time you’ve ever heard a boy giggle. It suits him, “So are you Yuta or Johnny?” You ask while the boy rummages beneath the counter.

“Guess.”

“Umm, Johnny?” When he resurfaces with a pink fuzzy towel in hand he’s wearing a hurt expression, like you just told him that you don’t like his hair. Not that you would ever say that. Much like giggles and wide smiles, long lilac hair suits him.

“How dare you?” Despite your best efforts you laugh, walking over to take the towel where he offers.

“Sorry, Yuta.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” You take the towel from his hands, still biting back laughter, “I’m just kidding. Sorry, I tend to do that too much, what can I help you with?”

“You’re not joking too much, and I’m not sure. Surfing, I guess.” His eyebrows furrow as he watches you wrap the towel around your body like a blanket.

“You guess?”

“Yea...” Your voice is tiny, confused. It makes something inside of him turn pink.

“And you’ve been on the island for how long?” Your response barely sounds like words, but he somehow manages to gather ‘three and a half weeks’ from your sullen mumbles, “Yea, we’re done guessing, come back next Wednesday. One work for you?” It feels like your head is literally made of rocks as you nod, “Okay. You’re learning to surf.” If it weren’t for the fact that they weren’t rolling around on the floor, you would’ve thought your eyes had popped out.

“Oh, thank you. How much?” He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, “Like... How much should I pay you?”

“Don’t be goofy, that’s why we have Johnny. To be goofy.”

“Seriously, I can’t not pay you.”

“(y/n,) I want to do this.” His eyes are trained on you, they feel heavy.

“How do you know my name?”

“Back of your bike.” The fact that he already has the answer to everything makes your cheeks heat up. You don’t know if it’s in a crush way or in the job interview kind of way. Judging by his strong arms and honey skin you think that it’s crush kind.

“That’s kind of weird... Really weird.” You move to leave, but turn around one last time. He’s smiling at your back, and you know in that instant that he’s going to ruin your life “I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

His smile follows you out the door and to the pineapple booth, then all the way home.

Your mom questions why you always come home with an enormous pineapple. You fib through your teeth and tell her that you pick them off the side of the street. She doesn’t really buy it, you don’t either. It’s clear that she’s about to push harder, but then your father walks through the front door of the rental home and suddenly everything is about him. For the first time in your life you don’t really mind it. There’s something nice about having the surf shack (and Yuta) all to yourself.

“You’re going to fall off, that’s just how it works. Everyone falls.” Yuta reasons while staring at your panicked frame. Everything was going great with the lesson, right up until you saw Johnny (co-owner of the store, and resident gentle giant) get entirely wiped out on a huge wave. Now you’re sitting on the lavender colored surfboard (that you definitely didn’t choose because it matches Yuta’s hair. Definitely not) with trembling arms, “Besides, when you fall it won’t hurt as bad as when Johnny does it.”

“Why?” It’s genuinely obnoxious how high your voice shoots up.

“Because you’re not seven feet tall. You really don’t even need to worry about it right now, not like you’re catching any waves today anyways.” You cringe, the blue rash guard you got from their surf shack suddenly feeling too tight (you tried to buy it, but each time you moved to give Yuta the cash he would squeeze his eyes shut and pretend like you weren’t there,) “Seriously, just enjoy being out here.” He reaches out to grab your arm before realizing that his board is definitely too far away. He laughs, and you can’t help but join in. He has that effect on people.

When you two eventually paddle back to shore the sun is getting ready to set, casting a golden haze over everything. You think that the boy standing in front of you looks beautiful. It’s the first time a boy has ever been that to you.

“Thank you for my first ever surf lesson. It was really fun, but I sadly have to get going now.” Wet hair is tickling your chin, and you’re dreading explaining this to your parents.

“Alright, same time next week?” Your heart catches on the hook of his words, slowly unraveling into a useless ball of yarn.

“Yea.” The word feels like it weighs five thousand pounds. It gets heavier with every step you take towards your baby blue bike, parked up against the shabby pineapple stand.

“(Y/N!)” Yuta shouts, still standing on the white sand of the beach. For the first time all day you notice that he’s not the only person there.

“What?” You call back, voice uncharacteristically loud. Yuta also has that effect on people, pulling out the daring parts that shout across crowded beaches and lie to their parents.

“Can I get you dinner next time?” A smile erupts on his face as if it’s volcanic, there’s one on yours too. You think to yourself that his smile could fix everything bad inside of you.

“I’d love that!”

You wear his smile to sleep that night.

Four days after your first surf lesson your muscles are still sore. It’s not a normal kind of sore either, one where you can take an advil and get over it, of course it’s not. It’s the kind of sore that makes your muscles spasm at the most inopportune times ever. In example: right now, standing in front of Maddie’s entire family while sipping red wine that you weren’t supposed to have. The fact that your dress was white cotton didn’t help to ease your nerves.

“Are you okay?” Maddies oldest brother, Warner, asks you. You try to nod, then quickly give up after remembering where your pain was.

“Yea.” You exhaled, rolling your head backwards, “I’m just sore, it’s a pressure thing I guess.” He chuckles, low and crunchy. It makes your stomach churn, but not the same way that Yuta’s does.

“Can I ask you something?” Yuta asks while shaking water from his hair. You two were waiting for grubhub to arrive at the surf store with post surf lesson dinner. Yuta had taken to putting on dry clothes while you sat shivering on the counter, wrapped up in a fluffy towel.

“Depends.” There’s a small smile playing on your lips, immediately pulling a giggle from the tanned boy. You want to bottle up the sound and keep it tucked underneath your pillow.

“Why do you... Hold back so much?” You look at him as if you don’t know what he’s talking about. You do, obviously, you’ve been holding back for as long as you can remember, but it’s almost embarrassing that he’s noticed it “Don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean. Like... Like how whenever I make a joke you try to not laugh, why don’t you laugh? Not just that, but... That.” A part of you wants to not tell him, wants to keep Yuta and everything nasty inside of you completely separate. There’s a bigger part of you that gives into his dripping honey smile and blanket laugh.

“My parents sent me to a boarding school that’s really... Strict, I guess? I don’t know, it’s competitive and no one is friends with anyone. You’re literally my second friend ever, we are friends right?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, imagine if you had said no.” You pull wet hair off the back of your neck, suddenly feeling very dizzy, “Anyways, yes. My parents, like... They are also super strict. I’m always too loud, or too goofy, or too serious, or just... Just too much. Too much.” You mean to keep talking, but your voice gives out as tears stream down your face. Yuta doesn’t notice for a second, but as soon as he does you have strong arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” He coos while squeezing you tight. If you weren’t bawling into his chest you would think about how this is the first real hug you’ve gotten in months, “Oh gosh! You’re gonna get sunscreen in your eyes, here! Use my shirt!” He’s shoving his shirt into your face, and if you weren’t crying out basically every frustration that you’ve ever had, it would be kind of funny. You wipe the tears out of your eyes, then the sunscreen from your forehead, and then you just hold the fabric.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” You sob, clenching onto his (once) dry shirt, “It’s the first time I’ve ever talked about it, a-and I ruined your shirt, and I’m so sorry!”

“S’okay. You’re okay.” He makes the words feel true, holding you in a way that no one ever has. It’s a clingy kind of hold, one that doesn’t let up until his phone dings. He keeps an arm slung around your shoulder while reading the lit screen, “Food is here, why don’t you go put on some dry clothes?” You rub the sticky tears from your cheeks while shaking your head lightly.

“I didn’t bring any, my parents would’ve asked where I was going and then I’d have to-” He brings up one hand to cover your mouth while the other one fishes under the counter. You think this is the nicest way that anyone has told you to shut up.

“Borrow mine.”

The shirt falls to your mid-thigh, so you don’t even bother with his shorts. (With how tiny that boy's waist is, the shorts probably wouldn’t fit anyways.) He spends dinner cracking jokes just to make you laugh and staring at your profile when he thinks you’re not looking.

“Okay,” You manage through dad joke induced laughter, “I really do have to get going now. Sun’s starting to set, and I don’t have a helmet light.”

“I’d pay to see that.” He helps you gather up your trash and walks you to the door, which is only two seconds away from where you were previously, “I’m gonna say something, and I hope I don’t make you cry again, so I’m telling you that I’m gonna say something.” You smile, playfully rolling your eyes. It’s ridiculous to you how easy it all feels.

“It wasn’t your fault I cried, it’s just because-”

“Okay talking now!” Laughter floats in the space between your bodies as he smiles shyly, “I think you’re really sweet. Like, the way that you buy a pineapple from Mr. Kahale every time you leave, or how you still try to buy stuff from me, or... The way that you laugh at all my jokes? Even the ones that really aren’t funny, you still laugh. I think that makes you sweet, and you’re also funny, and sarcastic, and hardworking... And not too much. Never too much.”

The words scratch into the back of your eyelids, and you read them in between every blink.

“Hey Johnny!” You chirp upon entering the surf shack. It’s half past noon, but you doubted that anyone would send you packing for showing up too early.

“(y/n,) hi! Come on in, can I get you a cup of coffee?” The tall boy asks, already turning around to prepare the mug. Honestly? You had already made a cup early in the morning and two cups would definitely make you jittery, but Johnny was so eager that you let him go ahead.

“Sure, go ahead. No sugar and four creams, please.” You assume your usual position on the checkout counter while Johnny plugs in the Keurig machine. Words float out of his mouth and around the room, never quite hitting your ears. It’s not that he’s boring, just that something feels off, “Hey, where’s Yuta?” The boy rolls his eyes exasperatedly, knowing fully well that you didn’t hear a single thing that he said.

“He’ll be here soon. Didn’t come in this morning since it’s his day off and all; here’s your coffee!” Johnny sees something on your face, written in furrowed eyebrows and down turned lips, “Don’t worry, he’s still coming in for your lessons!” You take the cup, head swimming with tan skin and hair that’s a little too long.

“I didn’t know it was his day off.” Johnny smiles brightly, exhaling a laugh.

“Wednesdays have always been his off days, well until recently. He comes in to teach you but that’s it.” Your cheeks turn bright pink, spreading quickly down your neck, “You know, he told me that- Yuta! Welcome home!” Something rises in your chest at Johnny's unspoken words, only to crest when you see the boy in question's beautiful smile (the one that reaches everything around him and paints it into something pretty.)

“Hi (y/n)! Happy to see you!” And that’s when it crashes in a big mess of soft smiles and snotty confessions. You want to tell him that he’s the second person that’s ever listened to you, that he’s the only boy that’s ever made you smile. You want to tell him that pieces of him live in your head, coming up in the moments where everything is too hard to handle.

The only words that manage to squeeze out of your throat are, “You too, ready to start?”

If his bright laugh was any indicator, then he certainly got the message.

“Sweetie, why is your face sunburned?” Your mother asks while dumping eggs on your plate. The burn across your nose was from staying out just a little too long with Yuta, but obviously she could never know about that. Instead you shrug, pretending like you didn’t even know it was there.

“Don’t know, sun’s bright I guess.” Her eyes narrow, and you know from eighteen years of stretching the truth that she doesn’t buy it. A groan (partnered with dread) rises in your throat at the idea of trying to dig your way out of this, just like you had to last week when she asked about your wet hair. This whole lying thing used to be so easy, something that just rolled off your tongue, but upon realizing that people can make you smile and that life can be enjoyed you always get terrible cottonmouth whenever you need to lie. A small part of you knows that it’s because you don’t want to lie about being happy, that you want someone to tell everything to, but a bigger part wants to stay in the dark.

“You lie like a cheap carpet.” She teases, voice twinging with a southern accent that she never had. It almost makes you want to tell her, then you think back to your last summer roller derby practice. When you had scraped your knee open. Your mom had been shocked after seeing the blood that stretched from the bottom of your thigh to the middle of your calf, but that was all replaced when you told her where it was from. Within twenty minutes you learned every synonym for ‘irresponsible’ that there was

(”I do everything around this house and this is how you repay me?! By getting injured, and oh I don’t know lying?!” You had cringed at her harsh words, right leg still aching with pain.

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed out, praying that the high ceilings of your kitchen would crash down on your head.

“I’m sure you are, God (y/n) do you even know what it’s like to run a household?! I am exhausted, and you’re running around and hurting yourself?!”

“Well maybe you wouldn’t have to ‘run the household’ if your stupid fucking husband would ever come home and raise his child! And maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to keep things from you if you didn’t react like this!” Tears trickled down your mother's cheeks, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You had been crying first, anyways.

“To your room.” Her jaw was clenched so tight that even water wouldn’t be able to slip through it, “Now!”

You had run up the stairs and into your room as fast as possible, then proceeded to slam the door and hurl your skates into a bookshelf. Needless to say, you never got to go back to derby.)

“I’m not lying, mom.” You breathe out, shoveling the last bit of scrambled eggs into your mouth, “I’m going over to Maddie’s, see you at the dinner party tonight!” Her gaze follows you out the door, sitting on your shoulders and swallowing you like a denim jacket.

You checked the time on your phone for the fourth time in the past ten minutes, only to groan upon realizing that not even a minute had passed since the last time you checked. Maddie had been getting the food for around fifteen minutes, and while the grubhub delivery boy was probably tripping over his tongue at the flirting that was definitely going on, your stomach was starting to grumble. It’s starting to sound violent

“Hungry?” A gravelly voice asks from behind you, causing hair to prick up on the nape of your neck before realizing that it’s just Warner.

“You shouldn’t scare people like that! Especially when they’re sitting on the ledge of a balcony!” It feels like your mother crawls out of your mouth, so you close it harshly and swallow before even considering speaking again, “And yes, extremely. Maddie’s supposed to come back up with the food, but she’s been gone for fifteen minutes.”

“Yea,” He chuckles while sliding onto the balcony railing, it makes you think of Yuta’s soft giggles, “she’s flirting with the delivery boy.” A heavy breath runs down your cheeks while eyes roll into the back of your head.

“How did I know?” When he laughs a hand brushes on your thigh, then stays there. Your cheeks turn red, but it’s more of an embarrassed blush. Not the innocent sunrise blush that Yuta paints your body with. You stare at his hand, begging for it to move. It never does, “(y/n,-)”

“I have t-to go. I have to go check on Maddie.” The way your body stumbles over the railing and through the French glass doors is embarrassing, but you don’t care. You’d trip over a million banana peels if it got rid of Warners expectant gaze.

It follows you down the hallway, through one living room, and into a stairwell, only leaving when Maddie bumps into you with a loud ‘oomf!’

“Hey honey, where are you going?” Her voice is so sweet, like the way someone would talk to a puppy. With anyone else it’d be patronizing, but with Maddie it feels like home.

“Warner like... touched my thigh, but it wasn’t a big deal. Just made me uncomfy.” She smiles sympathetically, knowing fully well that this wasn’t her brother's first time leaving a girl feeling like this.

“He’s an asshole.” The blunt words look funny coming out of your friend's soft face, so you laugh.

“Yea.”

“Let’s eat, I’m starved.” You think to yourself that you’ll never find a person like her, before nodding and falling in line behind her.

The first time that you manage to catch a real wave, not the baby ones that Yuta made you ‘ride’ right by the shore, you feel so free that you could cry. The wave is at least six feet tall, but in your head it feels much taller. Like something that could swallow you whole, but also something that you told not to. And something that listened.

You don’t even know what to do with all of the energy coursing in your veins, so you do nothing. Just let it fester while riding the wave, exactly the way that Yuta taught you. With feet planted strongly in the center of the board, everything smelling like salt water, and a huge smile spreading across your face. Although you don’t see him, Yuta is cheering from the sand, which is exactly where you go once the wave breaks.

You start to run to the boy, adrenaline still writhing in your body, but the running stops as soon as you pummel face first into the shin deep water. Perhaps running with something attached to your ankle isn’t the smartest move, but you’re too high to care. It’s all you can do to not burst out laughing at yourself.

“Are you okay?!” Yuta asks as his arms materialize beneath you. His eyes are slightly worried, causing a ridiculous contrast to your wild ones.

“Never better, did you see that?!” He barely has you out the water before you’re bouncing around again.

“What, you cleaning the ocean floor with your face or-”

“Don’t be a butt!” You tease while flicking his temple, “Did you see it?!”

“Of course I did! I was cheering and everyth-” Your lips are on his. You’re standing in the water of a Hawaii beach, and kissing Nakamoto Yuta. You’re (y/n,) who just rode a six foot tall wave, and you are kissing Nakamoto Yuta. You are kissing him, and he tastes like sun drenched honey. There’s nothing that could make this feel real, not even if someone came up and pinched you.

Even as his tongue swipes over your lower lip, even as his hand comes up to cradle your jaw, even as your hands tangle in the ends of his long hair. Nothing could convince you that this isn’t a dream. Maybe it’s the way that Yuta kisses like he needs it to survive, or how he’s listening to you despite the fact that no words have been exchanged, or maybe even how the waves are crashing you endlessly closer to him. Everything about his mouth on yours is far too good to be true.

“Was that okay?” You exhale, hot breath fanning against the boys cheeks, “I mean like, that I kissed you?” Everything feels hazy as your eyes focus in on his giddy smile. You think to yourself that his smile rivals every sunset that you’ve ever seen.

“Yes.” He responds, chest heaving, “Yea, it’s okay.” He rests his forehead against yours as a wave brushes the hems of your rash guards.

“Did you really see?” Something in your voice sparkles, it makes Yuta’s heart stop.

“I see everything that you do. The sharp inhales, the way your head tilts back when you enjoy something, the way you smile when Johnny offers you coffee. I’m starting to think that the only reason I have eyes is to look at you.” The words ricochet around your head, leaving your eyes watery and heart heavy.

“Yuta?” You ask before swallowing hard. There’s a hand tangled in his lilac hair, the other cradling the back of his neck. He thinks to himself that he could die like this and still be happy, “I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Okay.” He answers. The word feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, and also like you could lift it with your pinky..

There were three times in your life where you felt peace. The first time was a week spent in Spain with your boarding school, everyone stayed together in a hotel with a huge open air courtyard. You had spent each day out there amongst the plants, doing nothing except for school readings and breathing in the fresh air.

The second time was your first sleepover with Maddie. She had ordered Chinese and rented some Italian film that you can’t remember the name of anymore. She was the first person to listen to you about anything, and even though it was over something as simple as beef or chicken lo mein and what movie to watch, it felt nice. You remember falling asleep that night feeling like your heart was full.

And the third time was now, sitting on your board past where the waves break with Yuta. You’re about to paddle back to shore, but for now the boy is just basking in golden sun and splashing water at you.

“Stop!” You cry out, holding up one hand uselessly, “If I fall off you’re coming with me!” He smirks playfully, splashing the water even harder.

“Good, then maybe I can kiss you.” Something in your heart clenches at his childlike smile, and you almost understand the want to be pushed into the ocean just so you can kiss his honey lips.

“Come on, let’s head in.” As the two of you roll in with the evening tide, you can’t help but think that no one will ever make you happy the way that he does.

Despite growing closer with both shop owners, entering the surf shack still manages to transport you to a new planet. It’s like there’s nothing in the world that can brace you for the smell of bananas and fresh cut wood, or the sight of Johnny beaming from behind the counter while Yutas legs dangle from his perch. It’s nothing special, but in a way it is. At least to you.

“(y/n!)” They both cheer, Yuta sliding quickly off the counter while Johnny starts up the keurig.

“Four creams?” Johnny asks as Yuta presses a loud kiss to your tanned cheek. The taller boy pulls a face of disgust, so you giggle and push the sweet boy away.

“Yea, please!” Yuta is still trying to kiss your face, his tan arms wrapping around any part of you that he can reach, “Yes, hi Yuta, I’m excited to see you too! Now, stop being gross.” You and Johnny both chuckle while Yuta pouts, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

“I like being gross.” He grumbles, returning back to his spot on the counter. You follow close behind and ruffle a hand in his lilac hair.

“We know.”

“No matter how hard he tries, he will never be as gross as keurig coffee.” Johnny states, head shaking solemnly. Yuta busts out laughing and pushes his friend's shoulder.

“I like keurig coffee!” You protest, causing Johnny to chuckle while Yuta continues to giggle. You accept the mug from Johnny when he hands it to you, and everything feels so regular that it hurts.

It’s another breakfast spent shoveling runny eggs into your mouth in hopes to leave before your parents bring up any taboo topics, except this time something is off. Your father is actually here, for starters, then add that to the part where him and your mother are staring at you as if they’re waiting for an answer and you end up with a churning feeling in your gut. Your mother's eyebrows haven’t relaxed since you sliced up the pineapple.

“Sweetie, have you ever considered dating?” The words are so unexpected that you choke, a hand flying to your glass of water.

“Excuse me?” You wheeze, cheeks flushing bright pink. She’s going to ask about Yuta, you just know she’s going to ask about him. It was the love bite that gave it away, the one in the hollow of your throat. You knew he shouldn’t have done it, but there were no real thoughts in that moment. Just his lips and your skin.

“Oh, you know, just going out to dinner. Seeing a movie, you know plenty of nice boys right?” The words are swimming through your head, pushing hard into the back of your eyes.

“I don’t think I understand-” Your response is choked, your throat clenching around each syllable that comes out.

“Like um... Cameron, the boy you did that group project with? Or Donny, the one who ran for class President?” You nod slowly, waiting for the final blow, “Or Warner! Why don’t you date Warner?”

“Warner?” You don’t have to play dumb anymore, you actually have no idea what she’s talking about. Aside from the relief that no one knows about Yuta, confusion washes over you.

“Yea!” She chimes, hands clapping together, “He’s so sweet and smart, and I think he’s kinda handsome, right?” All you can think of is the way his eyes peeled you apart in the worst way possible, like you owed him something. Like it didn’t matter that you didn’t want his hands anywhere near you.

“Um, yea. Warner’s sweet.” The words taste like bile coming up your throat, “I have to go now, see you guys later.” You run out of the house like your heels are on fire, and the only way to put them out is to get as far away from their expectant stares as quickly as possible.

“Yuta, come on! I told you, no more love bites!” You groan, pulling him away by the hair.

“But I know you like them so much!” He pouts, moonlight cascading through the shop windows and across his tanned face. Tonight had been a dinner party night, which meant that right now you should be at Maddie’s house. Except for the fact that she had a secret date with the grub hub delivery boy.

(“I’m so sorry, please don’t tell anyone!” She had pleaded, eyes growing wide and watery. You always thought it was ridiculous how she could make herself cry on command. No one person should have that much power.

“So long as you don’t tell anyone that I’m sneaking out too.” Her eyes (now entirely void of tears) widened, one hand reaching out to push your shoulder while you giggled shyly.

“Who are you and what have you done with (y/n?!)”

“... Nothing?”)

“I do, but I think my mom saw…” His pout expands into a smile while your cheeks turn bright pink. A giggle slips past his lips as he rests your foreheads together.

“Really?” The boy whispers, as if you’re not the only other person in the room.

“Yes!” You laugh back, “Stop laughing at me!” The words just make him laugh harder.

“I’m sorry, it’s just funny!” Your eyebrows furrow as you stick your tongue out at him, making him smile even brighter, “Come on, don’t be mad at me! Honey, don’t be mad at m- mmph!” The words (and teasing) stop as soon as your lips collide, swallowed by something hot and needy. You think to yourself that his lips taste like honey, then that you’d give anything to kiss him for forever.

“Yuta,” You breathe out, trying to get the boys attention. It doesn’t work, his lips stay on yours, “Yuta!”

“Yea?” He asks, pulling back so little that his lips brush yours upon moving.

“I love you.” The smile on his face is worth a thousand dollars. You want to kiss it, so you do.

The action is slow and fueled with passion, him whispering ‘I love you too’ against you any chance that he can get.

A long time ago you decided that the only good thing about dinner parties was the fact that you got to get ready for them. Last week you wore your favorite blue dress, the one with ruffles on the sleeves, and a petite golden chain (which ended up on the checkout counter of your boyfriends store. You’re ninety percent sure that he took it home.) Yuta had nearly lost his mind when you stumbled into the store looking like that, with high heels dangling from your fingertips.

This week was something slightly different, seeing as it was something that your mother insisted on. A form fitting white dress with detailed embroidery around the waist. You found it to be repulsive, but it matched your favorite pearls so you let her go ahead and take it to the dry cleaners.

“Sweetie, I’m coming upstairs with your dress in ten minutes!” She hollers up the stairs. You clamp the pearls quickly, then throw your electric blue rash guard into the closet.

“Okay!” You respond, opening up the makeup drawer of your desk.

She enters the room quietly and hangs the dress on your closet door. You were hoping it would get less ugly the more you looked at, but it was turning out to be quite the opposite. It really just looked like a bad ice skating costume.

“It’s sad to think that we’ll be leaving in two weeks, isn’t it?” You hum in agreement while taking a brush to your eyelid. This talk is barely something that phases you anymore, seeing as you’ve already discussed everything with Yuta. Leave for two months, take your gap year on Oahu, and then apply to all of the local universities that you can, “We have to go back to the real world, with all of the responsibilities.” The way she’s talking feels rehearsed, as if she’s been waiting to say this to you for a long time.

“... Yea?” Her smile is so sweet that you barely believe it’s hers.

“But you don’t have many of those right now, do you? Nothing but enjoying your gap year and-”

“Mom, can you just tell me whatever you’re trying to say?” You snap, the brush clattering out of your hand and onto the glass top of the vanity. She slides down onto your unmade bed, hands making fists in the fabric of her skirt while she swallows heavily.

“You’re not going to like it very much.” It feels like your tongue is made of cotton again.

“Tell me. Please.” Her lower lip quivers, causing your stomach to clench even tighter.

“Do you remember when we spent the summer in Europe with the Prescot’s?” You nod slowly, remembering your very first encounter with Maddie, “And your father spent the entire time negotiating with Mr. Prescot?” You nod again, vividly remembering all of the lonely nights spent pretending to be asleep while your father stumbled home drunk off of wine.

“Yea, but he decided to go along with it because dad offered him a huge share of the income.” She looks at you as if you didn’t finish the sentence, “Right?”

“Right... Mostly right.” You inhale deeply, hoping for a breath of fresh air. You don’t get it, the entire room smells like a thunderstorm, “They also reached an agreement regarding you.”

“W-what?” She reaches out to hold your hands, you’re so confused that you let her.

“Your father and Mr. Prescot agreed that when you turn eighteen, and Warner twenty, that you two would become e-engaged to be-” The realization settles in right as your pearls begin to tighten. She keeps talking, saying things like ‘legal,’ and ‘sweet boy,’ but you feel nothing. Nothing other than your pearls tightening, suffocating you slowly but surely. They tighten like a vice, and you’re sure that you’ll never breathe again.

“W-when?” Your words are small and pathetic, one hand reaching up to grasp the dainty necklace.

“We’re announcing it tonight, I-I’m... I’m gonna leave you alone to process.” She squeezes your hands one last time, then leaves, “And please do a little bit of makeup, there’s going to be photographs. We don’t want to see your splotchy skin, do we?” With that she’s gone, door shut tightly and room silent.

Something pounds heavily against your skull, turning everything blurry. The only thought you can register is that you have to vomit, now. It takes everything in you to stumble towards the en suite, but once you get there your body knows exactly what to do.

There’s cold tile on your exposed knees as you empty the contents of your stomach into the ivory toilet. You vomit for nearly forty minutes, pulling at the suffocating pearls the whole time. The strand almost snaps, you barely even care.

Your head feels empty, like you puked out every thought and anxiety until you were just a shell of a person. A shell of a person who was engaged to Warner Prescot, and not Nakamoto Yuta.

The dinner party feels more like a trip to the aquarium, but you’re the fish. You and Warner sit at the head of the table, his hand taking home on the small of your back (he wiggles his fingers far too much, which sends the worst kind of shivers down your spine,) and everyone is staring. It makes you wonder how many people knew about this before you did.

When Warner stands to announce the engagement you almost vomit again. Maddie looks at you, her eyes screaming “I’m so sorry.” You ask her to help, to get you out of here. She looks away. It feels like there’s no air left to breathe, you think that even if there was you wouldn’t inhale. You want to suffocate, you want to stop existing. You want the carpeted floor of this high scale restaurant to swallow you whole.

Most of all, you want Yuta.

It’s half past eleven when you barge through the doors of the surf store, and Yuta’s leaning against the counter. There’s lilac hair falling in his eyes, painting the picture of not having a care in the world.

“(y/n!)” He beams, heart clenching tightly, “You look beautiful baby- baby? What’s wrong?” You don’t know what it was, maybe the stress of everything. Maybe the taste of vomit that was stuck in your throat, despite brushing your teeth ten times. Maybe the feeling of Maddie’s sad eyes telling you that there was nothing she could do to help, but you start bawling.

They’re ugly, wet sobs that shake you from your toes to your shoulders. You’re on the floor, hands gripping your hair so hard that it hurts. Yuta’s rushing over to you, and you can’t even bring yourself to look at his face.

“What do you need me to do?” He asks, voice soft and warm and painfully comforting.

“Hold me.” You whimper, suddenly afraid that if you say anything else your voice will give out and you’ll be nothing but a sobbing mess. A sobbing mess who’s engaged.

So Yuta holds you, and holds you, and holds you. It’s a loving touch, one that wants nothing for him. A touch that gives endlessly, with warm skin and heaving chests. His fingertips brush your shoulder while his lips kiss the shell of your ear.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers, causing your heart to clench violently. You grab his face, hoping that if you kiss him he’ll stop asking questions. He doesn’t go for it, “Sweetie stop, tell me what’s wrong.” You don’t want to tell him, you’d rather plunge yourself face first into the ocean than tell him. Something about telling Yuta makes this real.

“It’s nothing,” He knows that your eyes are too sad to be telling the truth, “I just love you.” You sob out, collapsing once again onto his shoulder. His hand strokes your hair while your back shakes.

“I know, I love you too.” You wonder if this last time that you’ll feel like those words are true, “I love you too.”

Ever since the start of your engagement (a week and a half) you’ve been running out of the house as early as possible, not even bothering with the under cooked eggs. The days find you in different places, usually at the surf shack or trying to catch some waves, but never home. And never with Warner.

Today you’re on the checkout counter, slicing up pineapple with a knife that you probably shouldn’t have and passing it to your friends. Yuta is tending to a customer, a poor sunburned guy well into his thirties who’s trying to buy a board, while Johnny smiles and taps away on his phone. It’s not the usual smile, goofy and carefree, now he’s beaming like he has to outshine the sun. He almost does.

“What’s got you so happy today?” You ask, passing him a paper plate with perfect cubes of pineapple. That was one of the best things about Mr. Kahale’s booth (other than the fact that you’re still allowed to park there,) you’ve become a pro at cutting up the fruit. Yuta always asks you to cut his into stars.

“Nothing.” He answers, giddy smile threatening to crack his face. He knows that you don’t buy it.

“People don’t smile like that over nothing, Johnny.” There’s a nervous laugh, then he pops a cube into his mouth.

“Well, I do.” You roll your eyes so hard that it almost hurts, then return to cutting up the pineapple.

“He’s texting his girlfriend.” Yuta interjects, pressing a kiss to your temple while thumbing through a stack of cash. You were so busy trying to pull an answer out of Johnny that you didn’t even notice him closing the sale.

“Girlfriend?!” You gasp, laughing at the way his cheeks turn pink, “Tell me more!”

“Her name is Maddie.” Your stomach drops as Johnny bites out his answer, but it’s probably nothing. There are thousands of girls named Maddie, right?

“Just wait until you hear how they met!” Yes! How they met! Maddie’s going out with the grubhub delivery boy, Johnny works here.

“How did you meet?” Your voice tries to give you away, so you continue to cut up the pineapple. Maybe if you focus on this they won’t pick up on your uneven breathing.

“Well I was doing a late night delivery, for grubhub?” Oh no, “I guess I never mentioned that I do that. Anyways, it’s like half past midnight and I pull up to this huge house, like seriously the biggest house I’ve ever been to, and this girl opens the door. We talked for like twenty minutes before she took her food, but just as she was about to go inside I grabbed the bag and wrote my number on it.” Okay, so that’s definitely Maddie. Johnny is definitely dating Maddie, but this isn’t the end of the world. They know Maddie, but that doesn’t mean that they know about you. They probably don’t even know that she has a friend who happens to be engaged to her brother.

“And she has this friend, Johnny what’s her name?” Oh no, oh no, oh no. You can feel Yutas eyes boring into your skull.

“I don’t think she’s said, but (y/n) this story is just... Insane, really.” Maybe she just told him about the time that you tried to backflip into her pool when you were nine and nearly broke your neck. That’s probably all that it is, “She’s engaged to Maddie’s brother! It’s some ridiculous arranged marriage plot with their parents companies, it’s like a tv show!” There is no air left in the room, and you briefly think that you’re going to pass out. He keeps talking but you can’t hear. You don’t know if you want to hear, for some reason hearing Johnny talk about how insane it is reminds you that it’s terribly insane.

“Shit!” You cry out as your knife slips away from the fruit and then across the skin of your thumb. There’s blood, but you barely even feel it over the lump in your throat. Johnny’s getting you a napkin, Yuta’s cradling your hand. It feels like you're going to pass out, you think if you don’t leave then you’re going to fall onto the floor and pass out, “I have to go outside.” Yuta’s mouth moves, but there are no words. No words as you stumble out the door and down to the beach, or as you gasp for air and collapse onto the hot sand.

You sit there for at least twenty minutes, cradling your bleeding thumb and watching the waves retreat, before Yuta materializes next to you. He’s holding a band aid while wearing a concerned expression.

“Let me see your hand.” Suddenly he’s holding your hand, wrapping up the cut and then pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm. It makes your heart feel watery, or your eyes. You’ve kind of lost track at this point, “Will you please tell me what’s wrong? You show up to the shack at midnight and just start bawling, which is fine! I don’t mind, but you’ve been off ever since then. It’s like, the only time I’ve ever felt helpless, I don’t know how to help because I have absolutely no idea what’s wrong, a-and-”

“I’m Maddies friend.” He’s about to laugh, but then he sees your tear streaked cheeks. You don’t even know when you started crying, “I’m Maddies friend, a-and I have to marry her brother, who I hate! And my parents didn’t even tell me until the night they announced it to all of the business partners, how fucked up is that?!” There’s something breaking in your chest, Yuta thinks he feels it too, “I mean, how fucked up is all of this?!”

“You’re engaged?” The words make you laugh, which is probably inappropriate. It is inappropriate, but you can’t even make yourself care.

“Yes, and I hate him. And I love you.” His hands are buried in his lilac hair, it reminds you of the first time that you kissed.

“Can’t you say no?” You want to say yes, say that you can leave everything behind and be nothing but his. Be nothing but yours, but there’s something clamping down on your tongue. He watches as your jaw tightens and a fresh set of tears fall down your cheeks, “Okay, I get it.” And then he’s leaving, and you know nothing other than the fact that you want him to stay.

“Yuta!” It sounds like you’re begging, in a way you are.

“I have to go!” You sit on the beach sobbing for hours, or minutes. Everything around you turns gray, and you think that this is just the perfect start to the rest of your life.

Maddie is lying on her bed and speaking into her phone when you find her. Her eyebrows are furrowed, eyes full of crystal tears that won’t fall. You can only assume that she’s talking to Johnny.

“Yea she’s here, I have to go. See you tomorrow, bye bye.” The words were quiet, her voice trembling, “He’s telling Yuta that you’re with me.”

“Oh.” The sound is pathetic; all broken, and watery, and tired. You want to cry again, but there are no tears left. Just a hollow feeling returning to your chest.

“(y/n,) I’m so sorry. I was sorry before,” There’s a heavy silence, one that expects you to say something. Or do something, but you can’t. There’s no energy left anywhere in your body, it’s a miracle that you’re still standing, “but this is just... I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The words come out of your mouth, but you can’t feel your mouth move. You can’t feel anything other than Maddie’s sad eyes.

“No, it’s not. Come sit down.” She pats her white comforter, your legs carry you there, “Have you told anyone?”

“No.” The word tastes sour on your tongue.

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Her hand is in between your shoulder blades, offering a comfortable weight. You think of how hard it’s been to keep this all from Maddie, of how many times you considered spilling everything.

“Yes.” Your entire body relaxes with a sigh, Maddie smiles at the feeling.

“Tell me everything.”

You tell her about his smile that outshines every star in the sky, about his beautifully sun kissed skin. You tell her about the way he pushes Johnny’s shoulder whenever the taller boy made a bad joke, and the time that you two paddled past the waves and he splashed water at you. She giggles, then asks to see a picture. You immediately know the perfect one.

(”(y/n,) pose with me!” Yuta cheered, voice growing closer. You turned, board still in hand, to be greeted with the sight of Yuta running at you while holding your phone.

“Wait, I’m not ready!” Before you could protest anymore there was a wet kiss on your cheek and the clicking sound of your camera ”You’re too much.”

“Yea, but you love me anyways.” He had pecked your lips, then the tip of your nose, then your forehead. It made something happy bubble in your stomach.

“I do, I love you so much.”)

“We had just finished surfing, that’s why we look like... That.” Your phone glares at you, flaunting yours and Yuta’s tanned skin. There’s two pictures where he’s not kissing you, just staring with lovesick eyes. It makes your heartbeat stutter.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n.)”

“Yea,” you sigh, “me too.”

It’s not exactly clear how your bike ride turned into you sitting in front of ‘Yuta and Johnny’s Surf Shack.’ It’s not like you were trying to come here, you just wanted to see the island one last time before leaving tomorrow, that’s all. But you ended up here, with a heaving chest and a dry mouth.

Something carries you off your blue bike, then parks it against Mr. Kahale’s pineapple stand, then makes you walk through the front door. The smell of bananas and fresh wood hits you like a memory, taking you to a time where everything is normal. Briefly, you catch a glimpse of life without Warner or your parents; Yuta perched on the counter and exchanging embarrassing anecdotes with Maddie, who’s working the register. She laughs, then casts her eyes to where you and Johnny are selling a customer on surf gear, and everything is perfect.

“(y/n?)” Johnny asks from his spot behind the counter, “What are you doing here?” His eyes are kind, soft even. You want to thank him for not kicking you out.

“I um... I don’t know? I-I just,” A sigh escapes your lips, ringing out loudly in the empty store, “is Yuta here?”

“No, it’s Wednesday so...” It feels like he snapped a rubber band against your forehead, “He misses you, you know?”

“Really?” You think it’s pathetic how small your voice sounds.

“Yea, like... A lot, he’s always holding that necklace that you left behind that one time. And looking at pictures, and watching rom-coms, then getting sad and eating all of the fudge pops in the fridge. I’ve had to buy about three new boxes in the last week.” He laughs quietly, in a squeezy and forced kind of way.

“Oh.” You want to cry. You want to cry, and scream, and throw things. But there’s nothing left in you except for the heavy silence permeating the room, and the act of accepting sad glances.

“I’m sorry.” You’ve heard the words so many times that they don’t sound real anymore, “I know that you leave tomorrow, so um... Is there anything that you want me to say to him?”

“Um... I guess just that,” You want to say: I only have a heart so that I can love you, echoing his words from your first kiss, “never mind. Don’t tell him anything, I don’t want to make this any harder.” He wants to tell you that he’s never seen someone love another person more than Yuta loves you, but he doesn’t want to make this any harder.

“(y/n,) I’m-”

“Really sorry?” He cheeks go pink at your correct assumption, and he nods, “It’s okay, just let me rent a board for the day?”

“Alright, but don’t expect for me to let you pay.” He tosses a pen at your face, eliciting a giggle from your mouth. It’s the first time that you’ve laughed all week.

“C’mon, I haven’t paid for a single thing here!”

“And you never will!” He’s about to add, Yuta would kick me out if I made you pay.

“Alright, alright. Let me go get the board.”

When you finally get to surfing, the waves are relentless. A small part of you wants to climb off the board and let them whip you around until you feel something again. The other part of you rides any wave that you can catch, and it feels so damn good to have something listening to you again. So good to do something just because you want to.

There’s salt water mixing with tears and sweat, and sun setting on your skin. You think about how perfectly Yutas lips fit with yours, then about how soft his bleached hair felt between your fingers.

“Maddie, why are you making us go this way?” It’s been thirty minutes of Maddie instructing your cab driver to turn down various back roads that don’t even lead to the airport, “Seriously, your flight is forty minutes before mine! You’re gonna be late.” She tries to wave the words away, then grips onto the front seat.

“Yea and then take this right. Yes, the one down that dirt road, thank you!” Now this is just getting ridiculous! You’re about to say something before she’s plopping back into the seat with wild eyes, “I’m not leaving.”

“What?!” Your scream startles the driver, causing him to slam on the breaks. Which may or may not slam your face into the headrest of the passenger's seat, “Sorry sir! Sorry!” He grumbles in response, you make a mental note to tip him extra.

“I’m not leaving! I talked it over with Johnny last night and then told my parents and put down the payment for an apartment! Then they cut off my card; sir?! It’ll be the next right, thank you!”

“Oh gosh, are you okay?” She grabs you by the shoulders, then squishes your cheeks lightly.

“Honestly? Not exactly, but at the same time I’ve never felt so free. I don’t owe them anything anymore, and like... Like, I scheduled an appointment to get my septum pierced just because my parents would never let me. I can do stuff like that now!” You want to ask how she can even afford it, then realize how awfully rude that is.

“I-I’m... I’m really happy for you.” Her eyes roll so far back in her head that you think she’s going to pass out.

“I’m asking you to come with me! And don’t argue with me on it, you know that you don’t want this! Marrying Warner, being a trophy wife? That’s not you, (y/n!)” She’s right, of course, but you don’t want her to be.

“Maddie, I can’t-”

“Why not?” The words are exasperated, almost angry, “Your parents are like, really mean to you. And it’s not like you owe this to them, if anything they owe this to you! They owe you one thing that’ll make you happy!” She’s pleading with you, forced tears taking home in her eyes. You just want everything to be done.

“But I don’t-”

“All of your favorite clothes are in your suitcase! You won’t need any cold clothes for a while, and you had a plan already anyways, right? With Yuta?” And there it is, the real reason that you can’t say yes. There’s the clenching of your heart, then your eyes falling to the dirty floor of the cab.

“I don’t know if Yuta still wants me. I mean, I really messed him up. Johnny said he’s watching rom-coms.” A shiver shoots up your spine at the thought of Yuta holding your necklace and staring with sad eyes. You don’t even think that you would take yourself back.

“Don’t. Be. Stupid.” She punctuates each word with a slap to the side of your head. You were going to complain, but then she’s spewing out more instructions to the cab driver and you can’t even remember how to breathe, “Of course Yuta still wants you! I saw those pictures, he looks at you like... Like...”

“Like it’s the only reason that he has eyes?” Her face lights up, now filled with hope instead of fake tears.

“Yes! We’re going to be at the airport in three minutes, so that you can either tell your parents that you’re leaving with me or make the biggest mistake of your life-”

“Maddie!” Her hands fly up defensively, and you’re not sure if you want to hug her or hit her.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“It doesn’t mean that you should say it.” The words are mumbled, and you both know it’s so that you can avoid answering the question. She sighs heavily, then moves her hands to hold yours.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but please consider it? Pretty please, I don’t want you to live the rest of your life knowing what could have been!” She’s begging, the words slipping freely from her mouth as if they’re memorized. Meanwhile, you have the worst case of cottonmouth known to man.

“I-I...” There’s no air left as the cab skids to a halt in front of the airport, “I just don’t know, I’m sorry.”

You move out of the car, then to the trunk, then through the doors. Your parents are waiting by the small coffee shop, Warner sitting next to them and laughing. His head tilts backwards as the sound rings through the busy airport, and you realize how wrong all of this is.You shouldn’t be listening to loud, staged laughter! It should be Yuta’s soft giggles, the ones that you’ve never heard before this summer. The ones that dance through your dreams and paint everything bright pink.

And maybe it’s not just about Yuta. Maybe it’s also about having a life that you live just for you, and not for your parents. Or for Warner,or business partners, or anyone. A life for you, filled with things that you love. Maybe if you run you’ll make it outside before Maddie pulls away.

“Shit!” So it looks like piggybacking off of her taxi was no longer an option. But that’s fine, you can get your own. The airport is basically crawling with them, it shouldn’t be too hard to get one, “Taxi!” A yellow cab pulls up in front of you, the driver looking terribly annoyed.

“We’re not in New York, you know? Hop in.”

“Yes sir, so sorry, thank you, thank you!” The top half of your body is arranging your luggage in the seat, while your mother stares at the bottom half.

“(y/n?)” She asks, voice hushed yet stern, “What in the world are you doing?”

“Oh, mom! I-I’m just...” About a million lies run through your head. ‘I left something at the house,’ or ‘This was my cab, just dropped something in the back!’ One’s about to slip past your lips, but you choke. Maybe it’s time to start telling the truth, “I’m not leaving with you.” You’re facing her now, trying to read her expression. It’s actually kind of hard, until her eyes shoot harshly into the back of her skull.

“Yes you are, now get out of the car!” She grabs your wrist, but you yank it back.

“No, I’m not leaving! I’m staying and moving in with Maddie, and not getting married. At least not now, or to Warner! I don’t like him, and you don’t even care!” There’s pressure building in your rib cage, it feels like it’s about to crash and drown everything else out. Her mouth opens to speak, but just the thought of her voice makes you want to scream, “Don’t speak! Don’t say anything, there’s nothing you could say to mess me up anymore than you already have, so just stop!” You’re yelling. So loudly that it almost hurts.

“No, you stop! You owe this to your father, how can you be so selfish?” It doesn’t register that she actually said that. That anyone would actually say that.

“I owe him?!” She’s gripping your wrist again, trying to drag your body out of the cab and to where the man in question waits by the entrance.

“Yes! He’s provided you with a home, food, and private schooling for eighteen years! This is the least you can do to pay him back!” The pressure in your ribs finally crashes, and you see nothing but hot red.

“I owe him nothing! All the things you just named are basic things I need to survive. I owe him for not letting me starve?! That is ridiculous! If anything he owes me for all of the summers I wasted at dinner parties, or the months where I begged him to teach me how to ride a bike, or the spring break where I came home and said that the boys at school were bullying me and he was too busy on the phone to even hear me! Or for, I don’t know, not raising me?” There are tears welling in her eyes. You notice for the first time in a while that they’re the same as yours.

“Stop. Get out of the cab, you’re coming with us.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.” She stammers for a solid minute before you grab the cab door, ready to slam it in her face and drive far far away, “That’s what I thought, goodbye mom. Call me if you want.”

It takes four days of settling into the apartment before you can bring yourself to go see Yuta. Maddie and Johnny had harassed you for the last two, claiming that the boys moping was just getting harder to deal with.

(”Seriously (y/n,) please tell him that you’re here! I can’t take another rom-com!” Johnny had whined while dumping coffee grounds into your french press. Well, his old french press that he gave to you as a housewarming gift.

“I’m going to! I just need more time, that’s all.” You’re not lying, there’s still a lot to process. Your parents cut off your credit card basically as soon as their flight landed, which meant that your net worth was about fifty dollars. It was an adjustment to say the least.

“We get it, take your time!” Maddie interjected, taking a soft hand to your tensed shoulder while the other played with her new septum ring, “But maybe tell him before Friday?” You’re eyes widen while Johnny laughs into his mug, and you think about slapping Maddies hand away. You don’t, obviously, but you definitely think about it.

“How does giving me a time frame go along with waiting until I’m ready?!” You’re definitely whining, but it barely even matters. At least Johnny is laughing.

“I’m sorry! But if you wait forever then you’ll never do it, I know you!” You’re about to say that she’s right, but then her mouth opens again, “And he keeps asking if we can have dinner together...”

“I have to rush my reunion for your dinner party?” There was a meek ‘yes,’ then you rolling your eyes, “I love you. And hate you, but love you.” She smiled brightly and wrapped her arms around your shoulders.

“I love you too!” She pressed a kiss to your temple, Johnny may or may not have made a joke about being jealous. You remember thinking to yourself that there was only one thing in the world that would make this perfect.)

From where you stand now, it doesn’t look like Yuta’s moping at all. He’s surfing with a wide grin and whooping excitedly, you always thought it was so cute how he does that. It’s like he’s an endearing little kid, the kind that you want to give dessert to.

He finishes the wave off triumphantly, then pulls in with the tide. He looks calm. Calm and happy, until his eyes settle on you. At first he thinks you’re just any other tourist, but then your arms are waving as you wade into the cold water.

“(y/n?)” He shouts, eyebrows furrowing harshly, “What are you doing?” The whole ‘following Yuta into the ocean’ thing wasn’t exactly part of your plan, you didn’t even bring a swimsuit.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working in the store?” You respond as the water starts to soak the hem of your shorts. Yuta’s not sure if he should smile or cry, but either way he’s paddling towards you. He’s paddling towards you and you’re here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be gone?” His voice sounds strained, and you can’t wait until he’s close enough for you to explain everything, but in the meantime your mouth hangs open as he jumps off his board “Why are you still here?”

“I left them! My family, a-and fiance, I left them, I live here now! I live here, with Maddie we have an apartment and I left! Forever, I’m free a-and here!” Words are spilling out of your mouth like you can’t help it, and in a way you can’t “I’m here and yours, I’m here and mine!”

“S-so you’re not engaged anymore?” Everything feels frantic, like you have to say the right things as quickly as possible, which is ironic seeing as how before getting here you were sure that you wouldn’t even be able to speak to him. But it’s not like that. It’s more like you can’t breathe and the only thing that will give you air again is explaining all of this to the beautiful boy in front of you.

“No! I mean yes! I mean- shit! I mean that I don’t have a fiance anymore!” He’s smiling hopefully, something warm and beautiful blossoming your bodies.

“And you live here? Like, permanently?” You nod your head so fast that something sloshes between your ears.

“Yes! I live about fifteen minutes from the shack and ten minutes from you, not that I just know where your house is! You never told me that, so why would I know that?! Not like Johnny’s been at my apartment everyday for the past four days-” Then his lips are on yours, and they’re just as you remembered. Soft, hungry, and drenched in honey. He bites your lip softly, eliciting a quiet moan as your fingers tangle in the boy's hair. It’s a little bit shorter than last time, but you still like it nonetheless. You like everything about him, he could’ve grown an eleventh toe since your last meeting and you’d still like him.

“Why did you wait so long?” He grumbles before pressing a kiss to your jaw. You’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to answer while he’s doing that, but it’s probably worth a shot.

“I-I was scared.” His face shoots up to look you in the eyes, wearing furrowed brows and quirked lips. All you can think of is kissing him again.

“Why were you scared?” The words make your cheeks flush terribly pink.

“Because! I thought that I like... Broke your heart! I thought you’d never want to see me again!” He pushes the side of your face softly, then presses kisses all over your skin. You think that you’ve drowned and gone to heaven.

“Of course I was heartbroken, because I missed you! All I could think of was how badly I wanted you back, sitting on the counter at the store. I never hated you!” He smiles widely, and you realize that it’s the same one from the first day in the surf shack. It’s warm, and inviting, and it heals something inside of you. Not everything, but definitely something, and you think that you want to kiss it off his face. So you do.

He wants to kiss you back like it’s what he needs to survive. So he does.

It’s a Wednesday, which usually means surfing with Yuta until you’re both sore everywhere. They’re your favorite days, but this one is painted a little differently. You’re standing on the shore with Johnny and Yuta while Maddie fumbles over waves. She’s fallen off three times (which is about where you would’ve drawn the line and come to shore,) but she’s determined. Before going out she said, ‘I am not coming in until I ride a wave. Guys, guys stop laughing!’ and she’s really sticking to it. It’s been almost an hour, you want her to catch one just so that you can go out.

“You’ve got this Maddie!” There’s almost a zero percent chance that she can hear you, but you feel guilty for not being able to help her back up after the fourth fall, “She’s going to have so many bruises.” Johnny suppresses a laugh, because even if the sweet girl can’t hear your cheering she will be able to pick up on Johnny teasing her. It’s like a radar.

“Says you! Remember that giant one on your butt that poked through your shorts?” You instinctively rub the spot where it was, cringing at the memory of not being able to sit anywhere for a week. You want to scold Johnny for bringing it up, but then Yuta pinches the skin on your hip and your brain stops working.

“I remember that bruise,” He mumbles into your hair, pressing a kiss quickly onto your scalp before reverting his eyes to Maddie, “made everything so damn difficult!” Johnny gags as you slap your boyfriend, who’s giggling in the chaos that he created. He tends to do that.

“Stop. Being. Gross.” You punctuate each word with a flick to his temple. He giggles and grabs your wrist, pressing a gentle kiss onto the skin of your palm. Then he flicks you back, to which you screech loudly, “Yuta! Stop it, oh my gosh!”

“What? Am I too gross? Personally I think-”

“Guys, look!” Johnny’s voice pulls you back to reality, but it’s okay. Reality has warm sand, and crystal blue waters, and your best friend in the world successfully riding her first wave. Before you can even process it Johnny is cheering like he’s her number one fan (he is. You know that he is,) “That’s my baby! That’s my freaking baby!”

“Go Maddie!” Even from far away, you can tell that she’s smiling. You’re smiling, Yuta is smiling, Johnny is more than smiling. Johnny is grinning like it’s going to split his face in half. Everyone cheers as she breaks the wave left, Yuta doing nothing more than letting out an incoherent whoops as Johnny runs out into the water. You briefly think that they’re doing what you and Yuta did after-

“Isn’t that exactly what we did after your first wave?” A laugh bubbles out of your throat while you wrap an arm around his dainty waist. His skin feels warm under your hand, you think that you want to live in that feeling for forever.

“I was just thinking that! And yes, yes it is.” Your words bring up a flood of memories; kissing underneath a setting sun, ‘I love you’s whispered into hot skin, and this beautiful feeling in your chest. A feeling that feels like everything is becoming right. You sink your head onto the boys shoulder, eyes trained on the crashing waves, “That was a good day.”

“The best one yet.” He turns so that you’re facing each other, and you know it’s because he’s going to kiss you. He always does this, then smiles with one side of his mouth, then pulls you in by the waist, then kisses you like he means it. It’s your routine, but one that you don’t think you’ll ever be tired of.

His hands skirt across your jaw, then yours in his hair. He’s never gotten used to how that feels, and you’ve never gotten used to the way he turns into putty under your hands. Maybe there are some things about Yuta that you’re not supposed to get used to, like the way that he giggles like a school girl whenever something is funny. His hand pushes your hair back, then cradles your neck and pulls you impossibly closer. It feels like everything is perfect.

“Come on nasties! We’re surfing!” Maddie splashes water at the two of you, pretending like she and Johnny weren’t doing the exact same thing less than two minutes ago. You were wrong before, now everything is perfect.

“Alright, alright, Yuta will you pass me my board?” He smirks while turning to pass the purple surfboard.

“The one that you chose because it matches my hair?” Maddie snorts at your boyfriend's quip as your cheeks go bright pink.

“Johnny, you promised not to tell!” You screech while chasing the tall boy into oncoming waves. Your respective partners tail behind, giggles slipping past their shouts of protest.

You think that nothing in the world could be more perfect than this, and you’re right.

#nakamoto yuta #yuta x reader #yuta fluff #yuta imagines #writekpop #admin r #im reposting bc the last one didnt show up in tags grr #if this doesnt show up idk what im gonna do :((#lemme know if u can see it pwease and enjoy!

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mysteryfanfictheatre3000 · 7 years

Text

Back to the Frollo, Chapter 16

Warning: yet more Anti-Romanyism!

Chapter Sixteen

Jacki introduced me to Madame d'Arcy, who had welcomed Jacki into her home two months earlier. Madame d'Arcy would've been alone for most of the summer, for her husband and son were in England on family business, and her niece and new husband were honeymooning in southern France. She was grateful to have 'Jacqueline', as she called Jacki, keep her company for the balance of the summer.

Wait, Jacki’s been here for two months straight? Why?! Seeing as Fern has the car and is hogging the technology Jacki created, and Jacki’s stuck in the past because Danisha and Frollo want to have sex, it makes me think Fern and Jacki have some sort of messed up, power-imbalanced relationship here, leaving Jacki stranded so Fern can have fun.

While Claude and Madame d'Arcy were deep in conversation, I took Jacki and Fern aside and finally asked them, "Is this why you didn't want me to come inside? Because of a sweet old lady?" Jacki then explained that the d'Arcys were her French ancestors. "That's the first thing I did when I invented the time traveler; I wanted to research my family tree", replied Jacki, "I guess all that time spent studying quantum physics and advanced calculus paid off."

Again, you could be stopping Hitler. Or at the very least making tons of money off this tech and helping make the world a better place. But yes, by all means, visit your weird old relatives.

Jacki glanced lovingly at Mme. d'Arcy; then, Fern explained further, "We're keeping this to ourselves. She doesn't even know; we can't risk affecting outcomes." I mulled over that last statement, "can't risk affecting outcomes."

But falling in love with an extremely powerful man and changing everything about him is okay. That can’t affect the outcomes of anything. But telling an insignificant old lady that this girl is related to her? That could cause a tear in the time-space continuum!!!!

Fern then went on to explain that was why I was kept in the dark; that is, until Claude Frollo revealed nearly everything. Jacki, looking at Claude, who was now conversing with Kyle, smiled and said, "We had a feeling he'd tell you sooner or later." She tried not to break out in laughter as she moved her eyes from me, then to Claude, then back to me. "Fern said you two have become quite an..ahem..item."

Yes, unfortunately.

I returned the smile, coolly saying, "Well...let's just say that His Grace and I are...hmmm...'real' close friends." Claude glanced over at me; I guessed he picked up on the giggles coming from our side of the room. He came over to me while Kyle was still conversing with Mme. d'Arcy. "Did they tell you everything?" I linked my arm in his and replied, "Almost, but I'm still not clear on... "How I knew where to start digging? Who filled in the holes of my research?", said Jacki, who directed our attention to another elderly lady entering the room, "Ask Aunt Perle."

Great, another random character no one cares about to be added into the mix for no reason.

Perle Darcey? Isn't that Jacki's daddy's aunt? His 95-year-old aunt? Sure enough, all eyes were on the petite lady entering the room. I only saw her twice in my life, once when I was a little kid, and, at Jacki's high school graduation. Aunt Perle steadily and cautiously made her way into the room; she was leaning on a cane. At ninety-five, she was still the picture of elegance and grace. Her floor-length beige-colored linen dress, with its matching, wide-brimmed hat and low-heeled pumps, highlighted her cafe au lait complexion.

And unnecessary description of said random useless new character, naturally.

Her face, lightly dusted with powder and rouge, looked surprisingly young and vital, despite Perle's advanced years. Kyle offered to help Perle to her chair, but she politely refused. "Thank you, honey", she said in a warm, loving voice, "but I can manage. Been doing it for all these years." Fern, Kyle, and Jacki excused themselves from the room. All Jacki could say was that she and Fern were preparing something special for Sunday dinner.

More plot twists, mysteries and surprises that make no sense in this weird romance/sci-fi/erotica mess of a story.

Perle settled herself in a chair next to Mme. d'Arcy, turned to her, and said, "Marie-Louise, you have a lovely garden; that nice gentleman staying with you showed me all your flowers and trees.." She then turned to Claude, looked at him for several seconds, then she smiled and said, at last, "He looks something like you, but younger and not as grand." Claude Frollo looked puzzled, then glanced at Mme. d'Arcy with quesioning eyes. I managed to catch his eye and mouthed, "Who? What?" Claude quickly shook his head, his face registered utter, yet, pleasant, surprise as another figure entered the room.

…another random new character?! Why?! What does this have anything to do with the established plot? It focused on Frollo and Danisha’s “epic courtship.” At this point you may as well be writing about anything or anyone; replace Frollo with “Steve” or “Bob” and it would make no difference.

I studied this tall, slender man approaching us; I could readily see the family resemblance. But whereas Claude was serious, austere, meticulous, and carried himself with a regal air, this man's entire demeanor suggested endless pleasure, an 'I-don't-care' attitude towards life.

Oh boy, is it Jehan? Jehan was innocent! He doesn’t deserve this! (Well, he was a drunk and a deadbeat in the book and musical. But honestly, his alcoholism pales in comparison to, y’know, burning down Paris because you want to rape a girl.)

The man walked up to Aunt Perle and handed something to her. "I believe you dropped these during our walk." She thanked him as she took her gloves. He then turned to Claude, who tried to keep his surprise in check. Claude told me everything about his brother, Jehan; I felt I already knew him, even before this meeting. "Claude", Jehan warmly began, as he clasped the elder brother's hands, "I really wanted to come to Paris, make myself known; but, I was having a such a lovely time here. Mme. d'Arcy insisted that I stay; then I met this charming lady." He smiled at Perle Darcey as if she were an old friend.

Oh no… Also, in the musical at least, Jehan was Quasi’s father. He married Floricka, had a son and then he and his wife died of plague and left Claude to raise the baby. I’m assuming she’s using this version of Jehan or some other ballet or play, because she seems too dumb to read a whole Victor Hugo novel. In that case, though, why isn’t he dead?

Hmmm...Claude told me Jehan has a habit of...Oh no!...sponging off not one...but TWO sweet old ladies?...this man is too much... Claude greeted his brother, to my surprise, in like manner. "Jehan, you could have informed me...I'm glad you're here. You look well." Jehan then turned to me and said, "So...you're the one." What did he mean by that? Does Jehan know that Claude and I are lovers?

Does it really matter?! Everyone else knows!

Claude Frollo, sensing the slight tension in my expression, quickly spoke, "This is Fern's friend", as he took my hand and completed introductions. "She's very pretty", Jehan smilingly said, then he leaned over and whispered in Claude's ear, "You always did have excellent taste." With that, Claude and Jehan broke down in laughter and embraced each other, just like loving brothers.

As The Fanfiction Critic put it in her review of “Marie,” a less creepy but similarly terrible Hunchback of Notre Dame fic, Jehan was a deadbeat. He spent all his money on hookers and booze. He and Claude never had a great relationship. Hell, in the musical, Claude was the one that got him kicked out of Notre Dame!

Claude told me that he raised Jehan from a baby, ever since the death of their parents; he tried to instill in his brother the same virtues that made Claude a successful man. However, Jehan liked to gamble and have fun, drifting from one thing to another; he was almost always broke. Claude loved his brother dearly, despite Jehan's shortcomings.

And here we have another creepy attempt to make Frollo seem like a kind person!

"Minister Frollo", said Mme. d'Arcy, "your brother has been absolutely wonderful. Even with Jacqueline here, we two old ladies are grateful for his company." Claude just replied with a slight smile and glanced at his brother as if to say, "Oh, I know why you're here...you'll never change..." Kyle then returned to the room to announce dinner was ready. Mme. d'Arcy then proudly announced that, "My dear Jacqueline and her friends have prepared a special dinner." She then turned to Kyle and asked, "Now, young man, what is the main course?" Kyle replied, "What you are about to experience is a summertime Sunday dinner that is common in the New World, that is, my part of the New World."

No one cares about dinner. Do I have to reiterate these scenes are boring and unnecessary? I’m using “unnecessary” so often it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

Perle laughed as she added, "Isn't that something, to come all the way to France just to eat Fern's fried chicken." Claude's eyes widened in anticipation; he looked at me and said, "Fried chicken? You promised me such a meal...remember?" He started laughing as I helped Perle to her feet; Jehan escorted the ladies to the dining room. I then took Claude Frollo aside and whispered in his ear, "Well...we were...er...busy", referring to that crazy, passion-filled night.

Ugh, don’t remind me.

Claude was overcome with humor as he escorted me to the dining room. A traditional Sunday dinner served in countless homes across the Midwest: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, hot bread, green beans, sliced tomatoes, Fern's homemade blackberry cobbler. It was a meal that Mme. d'Arcy, Claude, nor Jehan had ever experienced.

And thus, would likely get sick from.

Over the course of the summer, I served Claude a variety of native American foods, of which he liked pecans and corn best. "Mmm...'corn'", said Jehan, helping himself to seconds (or was it thirds), "and I like the red things...'tomatoes'." The conversation was a delicious as the food. Mme. d'Arcy praised Fern's culinary talents; and Aunt Perle, who nodded at Jacki, said, "Jacki cooked the beans, just like I taught her and her Mama." I leaned over to Perle and whispered, "When are you going to tell us the family history?" Perle whispered back, "Marie-Louise always takes a nap after dinner; you all will know all about the Darceys then."

No one cares about the Darcey’s family history. Why are we reading about an awkward family dinner between a bunch of OCs and some random Hunchback of Notre Dame characters?

Claude had his brother in stitches as Claude repeated that "Hoosier and Kentuckian" story. Fern laughed and whispered to me, "Well, I've seen someone's been tellin' those stories again."

Why does she keep bringing this unfunny joke she stole from her sister up?!

Jehan then asked about other native American foods. "Fern, you talked about pumpkins. I understand they're only available in the fall." Fern nodded, then I piped up, "Jehan, why don't you and Claude come for Thanksgiving dinner. Then you can eat all the pumpkin pie you want." Jehan looked puzzled. "Thanksgiving? What is that?", he asked.

Why do they all care so very much about America and its history and customs? It doesn’t exist yet!

Claude knowledgably replied, "A holiday unique to their part of the New World; they set aside a day to give thanks for their country's bounty." All eyes were on Claude as he continued, "They celebrate with family gatherings and serve foods native to their country." Kyle, his eyes wide with amazement, said, "Wow, Your Grace, you sure know a lot about Amer...ahem...our country." Then Claude Frollo glanced lovingly at me. "My boy, I had a marvelous teacher." I tried to be modest about it all; indeed, I had told Claude much about American history and culture.

Everyone loves Danisha and Frollo is the best. We get it, story, stop shoving it down our throats.

Perle then said to Jehan, "Honey, if you come to my house, you better bring your appetite, because I cook everything: turkey, ham, cornbread, greens, chitlins..." Jehan interrupted, "Beg pardon, madame, but what are 'chitlins'?" Jacki looked at me, I looked at Fern, whose face registered a certain level of disgust. She looked Jehan squarely in the eyes and said, "Jehan, my mama cooked those things every Christmas and Thanksgiving. She made sure to set that stinkin' pot right next to me,'cause she knew I hated 'em."

NONE OF THIS HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME. THIS IS JUST RANDOM OCS EATING DINNER.

Everyone except Jehan started laughing; I had told Claude all about Fern's 'chitlin story' a few days ago, when he had asked the same question. I just said to Jehan, "Sugar, don't ask what they are; you don't want to know." That said, we continued to enjoy a pleasant Sunday afternoon dinner and lively conversation.

++++++++++++

"The d'Arcys fell on hard times during the 18th Century. Some of the family began emigating to the American colonies." Perle began to explain how the French d'Arcys became the American Darceys.

Who cares about this stupid family? This is just filler, and not even entertaining filler!

Mme. d'Arcy had gone upstairs for her after-dinner nap. Everyone else gathered around Aunt Perle as she began to recount her family's history. "My great-great grandfather was Henri d'Arcy. He settled near Lake Charles, Lousiana, bought some land, and started a small sugar plantation." Claude asked Perle, "How are you related to the d'Arcys; and, how did the the name change to 'Darcey'?"

[a long, dull passage about family history that I cut because it was stupid]

No one cares. Repeat after me: no one cares. No one cares. No one ca-

Perle continued, "Henri had a son, Jean-Paul. He was my great grandfather. Well, he had a wife; but, he also had a mistress. That was Sally, one of the house slaves." Claude and Jehan were both visibly disturbed at the word 'slave'. "That's right, Claude", I said, as I held his hand, "America has a dark, ugly past..." Claude's eyes were now scanning my entire face. "That explains your coloring, your features...the brown skin, the full lips...your hair...Danisha, your African ancestors were never willing immigrants...", Claude looked somewhat bewildered as he fingered a lock of my hair.

Why is he so put off by this?! He wanted to murder Romani simply for having the nerve to exist! He burned down Paris because he wanted to rape Esmeralda! He abused Quasimodo for years! He shot/stabbed Phoebus for not killing a bunch of innocent people with fire! Slavery should mean nothing to him. He shouldn’t care, because he’s a messed up human being!

[another long passage about the Civil War, cut because not only was it stupid but it contained various racial slurs I am uncomfortable with publishing.]

"But how did the name change?", asked Kyle.

NO ONE CARES ABOUT THIS.

"My father was still a baby when the census people came. Neither of my grandparents could read or write", explained Aunt Perle. "Now, most slaves had no real last names; they always took the name of their slaveowners

Well, few people have any real last names in this current timeframe, either. They all have names that relate to their profession for the most part, i.e. Mason, Baker, Smith, etc. Esmeralda didn’t have a last name. Hell, Esmeralda was barely even a name in the book; people referred to her as “la esmeralda” or “the emerald” because she wore a necklace with an emerald on it. Her real name is Agnes, which she, along with everyone else, didn’t know.

Well, since Jean-Paul d'Arcy was my grandfather's last master, that was the name he took. 'Course, when he had to give the census people his name, I think they just wrote down what it sounded like, 'Darcey'." At once, Claude understood the name change. "It was those responsible for recording the names...that explains it", he began, then added, "Yet, obviously, your father, and then you, were able to secure a proper education. Surely the name could have been changed to its original French."

Why does he care so much about this, anyway?

[another incredibly long, somewhat racist segment cut because of stupidity and racism].

Fern then said to me, "You know, we oughta throw a farewell party." Kyle and I immediately jumped on this. "Yeah", I said, "it could be a farewell-thanks-for-the-memories party." Jehan Frollo, pouring himself another cup of wine, commented, "A party? Oh...I do love a good party, even though my brother thinks they're a waste of time." "Oh really", Claude answered his brother, "since when did I dislike a party?" He then told Fern that he enjoyed pleasant social gatherings, "As long as the festivities are not too raucous."

Claude Frollo just loves him a party, as evidenced by him calling the Feast of Fools a “shallow, drunken stupor.”

Fern just looked at him and said in a matter-of-fact voice, "I'm not suggesting a wild, no-holds-barred orgy; you forgot that I was at the Feast of Fools this past winter. Now that was wild." Claude acknowledged this as Fern continued, "Our party'll be just good, clean fun. Good music, good food, good company. So, Your Grace, can I count on your presence?"

Please no.

I quickly glanced at Claude with an expression that read, 'You better say yes'. Claude, sensing this, immediately told Fern that he "would be delighted to attend your little function". Then, he added, "And, so you won't have the whole of Paris swarming all over your home, I'll have my men block off the streets to traffic. That way, your guests may freely mill about the neighborhood."

Shutting down an entire city because he wants to party. Talk about self-absorbed.

Jehan then spoke up in mock-indignation, "What's this? My brother's actually using his authority just to please his new-found friends?" Perle got up and walked over to Jehan. She patted him on the shouder and chuckled, "Baby, sometimes it's nice to have important folks as friends, and your brother's one of them." She then told Fern, "I hope you plan on some nice barbeque; I always enjoy good barbequed ribs." Once again, Jehan Frollo asked about another American custom totally foreign to him. "And what is 'barbeque'? Sounds odd but delicious", he then turned to his brother, who began to loftily explain as everyone started laughing. "'Barbeque'", began Claude Frollo, "is taken from the American Spanish word..."

How would he even know the linguistics of the word barbecue? He didn’t know what a boom box was called but he knows obscure, random things like this. It’s so weird.

********** I remained outside while Claude, two guards, and a servant went inside the cottage. He wanted me to stay outside because, as he reasoned, I may be put off by the soldier's injuries. It was the servant who came to Paris with the information. Apparently the ex-soldier had been gravely injured and taken to the cottage to recover. I know I shouldn't think like this...that soldier must be pretty banged up...but...I hope Snowball's OK...

Because the horse matters more than the human life, right?

I paced outside, waiting for Claude. What's taking so long? Just then, a stableboy, a fine, black horse, and another figure approached the cottage. Immediately I could make out the face of the man. "Jehan!", I exclaimed, running up to him. I embraced him and said, "But why are you here? How did you know Claude and I were here?" Jehan Frollo returned the embrace (sibling-style hugs -- Jehan knows not to mess with his brother's women). "Oh, didn't the servant inform my brother? Damn! I knew this would happen..." He then said to me, "I'm the one who found the man, and Snowball. The horse is fine, but that man...Danisha, I don't expect him to survive...he's that badly injured."

Okay, but why should the reader care? We don’t know who he is!

#The Hunchback of Notre Dame #back to the frollo #Claude frollo #danisha

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