#the studio space i was a part of shut down due to lack of funding so ive got No Where To Go To Work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Running Home | 02: The Road

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Smut (eventually), Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bangchan x Reader

Warnings: No warnings apply

Summary: A journey consists of three essential parts, even the one proposed by an estranged childhood suddenly showing up at the door after years of absence. Although, perhaps begging to embark on an adventure is better befitting of the situation.

After all, the two travellers might find the destination they could not find themselves at the end of the road, inherently constantly running in circles.

Not anymore.

It is time to go home.

The Setting Off / The Road / The Destination

Masterlist

Proposals are a type of commandment left up to an individual’s own volition to agree to or decline, though circumstances or the person uttering the potential decision can influence judgement regardless. However, it also depends on the relationship at the time and that in and of itself.

Time.

‘Run away with me.’ Platinum locks are pushed back by a haphazard palm that afterwards grabs onto the doorway just above where a startled head is resting to stay grounded, mind going insane due to the lack of logic in the demandingly spoken request. The long oversized sleeve rolls back to reveal a stunning grey and black-toned tattoo of a snarling wolf that covers the biggest part of the left forearm, an animal that is nothing like the docile personality of the kangaroo that was first associated with the childhood friend.

Then again, everything has changed.

We do not know each other.

Not anymore.

The familiar scent of mint mixed with a fresh cologne fills every sense when the long lost friend leans in, faces a few centimetres apart in the tiny space of which the air gradually becomes tense, heart oddly beating in a blind panic thanks to Chan’s begging whispering nearness. ‘Let’s do it. We’ve always wanted to. Now’s the time.’

‘It isn’t.’ A step backwards breaks the intimate spell, reason breaking through the mirage of wonderful words reminiscent of the rebellious teenage dreams longing to be wildly liberated and build an empire of ink somewhere in the world. It is a harsh truth, but those goals cannot be pursued anymore as the process of growing up has taught an ignorant girl the ways of reality which have led her to become a freelance editor with financial stability after a good while of struggling. The current point is a good place, certain of professional possibilities on the path taken after completing the bachelor in Creative Writing. Why leave behind such an incredible future after working so hard to achieve it?

‘Wha- What do you mean it isn’t? Y/N, while we were apart I did my best to actually create what we thought of together, working shift after shift at crappy jobs to save up for the tattoo studio we would open one day. I finally got the money and found a location, but all that is missing is you. Don’t say you forgot what you promised me, that you don’t remember promising to be my business partner.’

‘The old me promised that, Chan. I also worked hard to get where I am now, went through stress and money-related hardships to live here and have a steady career. Congratulations on making it. I’m genuinely happy for you, but I left our dream behind when I realized it wouldn’t work, at least not for me. I’ve grown up, moved on.’ A shivering sigh worsens the increase of homesickness because everything within has become aware there is no way to cure the mental distress.

College has cost too much in terms of funds and all-nighters to accomplish assignments or study for tests. The multitude of inherently futile interviews had led to too grand an amalgamation of barely manageable stress that could only have been diminished a tad when starting as a freelancer, fortunately landing on the music company’s project after collaborating on a few smaller yet successful projects. The collection of mangas and books on the shelves of a professional are a proud display of the achieved novel ambition to make people read more. Henceforth, there are factors that make giving up the current life impossible despite the craved reunion with Chris.

The offer has to be turned down.

He has to go.

‘You’re lying.’

‘I’m not, Chan. Really, I’m happy. I get to do things I hadn’t thought possible, work on projects for big companies. See those bookshelves over there? Those are the titles I worked on.’ A convinced digit points at the shelves spread throughout the apartment which support a variety of volumes resulting from all the paid assignments that have carved the road leading here.

Successful and free of former worries about even making it this far.

Only to end up merely as a name in the credits list.

To be skipped.

Like the rest.

A faceless ghost with a name.

‘Y/N,’ the gentle softness in speech tells there is no way to deny the presented lie for the inked wolf sees what lies beneath, as he has always done by reading the mind even when it is not wanted, ‘drop the act and be honest because this pains me to see. You aren’t happy, at all.’

The unconvincing gesture towards the paperbacks falls away, arms stretching forward in longing for a hug from the regained childhood friend and happily wrapping around the waist when a nod gives consent. The heaviness of existence falls away in the warm comforting fabric of the oversized sweater smelling of minty cologne, lashes fluttering shut when the embrace is lovingly answered by a big palm holding the head against the chest. ‘I’m not, haven’t since you were gone.’

A moment of comfortable silence passes before the hush is broken by a confession that has been known all along, confirmed to be so once more as plush lips place a kindhearted kiss on locks that have missed the contact. ‘I feel safe with you.’

‘I’m not letting you go again. I promised to protect you and I will. I’m not gonna leave you behind, never again.’ The shivering suppressed sobs are rubbed away by small digits holding on tighter to dusky clothing, a deep sigh slightly calming a frantic heart. ‘Never again.’

‘Shh, it’s alright.’ Nothing more can be said without breaking out into tears as well, simply hiding away into wordlessness to let the simple phrase speak for itself.

‘Please, Y/N. Please, run away with me. Let’s just grab the bare necessities and vanish, start anew. We can get food and additional supplies along the way. Even if you decide to turn back eventually, at least come with me today. Let’s just go.’

‘I’m not going to turn back.’ The motion of a thumb wiping the tears from pale cheeks is leaned into, molten chocolate irises twinkling in soothed delight before Chris mirrors the gesture on a dry face not yet broken. However, there is something needful in the manner in which the distance is tried to be breached, distinct from how it used to be done in older days in the increased want for intimacy that was formerly solely joked about, only applicable to the situation whereby the friendship would have been of a deeper meaning.

Something that has never been.

‘You promise?’ A suggestive nod almost results in a brush of lips, but shamefully ends in pulling away and ending the closeness that was willingly given into with retracting fingers leaving behind a strangely disconcerting coldness on the skin. ‘Go... Go get your stuff. Or would you- do you want me to... help?’

‘Yeah...’ Although likely not needed, it is a comforting thought, a desire that desperately wants to be fulfilled, to have the platinum-haired boy with the wolf tattoo help with packing what little is needed and already present in this empty home. Henceforth, awkwardly avoiding any type of physical contact in the fairly spacious apartment that stills feels too small to move freely in, a small backpack containing what would be enough for an overnight stay at a friend’s is gathered.

Withal, there is no way to avoid touching at the surprising sight of the sleek motorcycle which will blend seamlessly into the scenery at nightfall parked on the driveway of the apartment complex. Brows furrow as the knot of digits untangles in favour of inspecting the vehicle up close. ‘You have a motorcycle?’

‘Uh, yeah, I do.’ A hand timidly rubs the back of the neck, uncomfortable at yet another paradoxically uncharacteristic element of the returned comrade is brought to the surface touched by Time.

‘Well, I trust you’ll get us where we end up needed safely or I’ll come back to haunt your ghost.’ A smirk successfully undoes the fit of strangeness, bringing back the once familiar affection free of the judgment from outside, the prejudices deeming us a couple.

A concept that seems oddly pleasant as the joking manner is joined when a helmet is handed over. Well, so it seems to be but just as the object is within reach, it is quickly snatched away to be placed on the head with a loving devilish gaze. Knuckles reach up, which results in the annoyingly impactful patting on the top of the thing to ensure it is securely put in place. ‘Or the other way around.’

Annoyed, the knuckles are stilled. ‘Stop that! By the way, you’re the driver. Besides, I refuse to let you haunt me.’

Confidence fades away into worry at the registration of there being solely one helmet, gazing questioning at the apparent motor mouse with an underlying fear for his safety. ‘Shouldn’t you wear it?’

The important inquiry is brushed off with a tender smile on the full lips of slightly tilted platinum locks. ‘Ah, don’t worry. I’ll be careful so you won’t actually get to chance to stalk me forever in ghost form.’

‘Chan...’ Fingers rapidly grip the edge of the oversized sweater already getting on the vehicle, holding the fabric up enough to see the top part of a melting Victorian style pocket watch outlined engraved into pale skin.

Time slipping away.

As it had from us.

‘You’re still as stubborn as ever. It’s fine, Y/N. Come on, get on and we’ll get going.’ The hold on the clothing is made undone by the wearer gently tugging it out of its current grasp, but it is replaced by a new one in the form of once more entangled fingers when the big calloused palm reaching out is taken after patting on the backseat.

Soothingly protective, the thumb rubs over the back of the smallest hand as deep brown irises sparkle with the true intention to protect like before had always been the case. We have had always had each other’s backs. ‘I’ll be careful, I promise.’

But knowing this had never stirred up the same storm as it does now, the stomach tying into an odd expectant knot while cheeks fortunately hidden by the head protection warm up. Regardless of the curious sensations, arms wrap hesitantly around the waist after clumsily sitting down on the passenger seat, clinging like a koala to Chris’s sturdy buff body.

Sensing the discomfort, the guarding driver checks at every turn to what extent the distress has grown and occasionally slowing down when noticing the enhanced grip on the middle going paired with an anxious whimper. Thus, the road of flashing streets and open highways leading to an unknown destination is embarked upon.

Though there is rapidly a stop on it already that makes all the continuous wishes for a car, a probably whole lot safer option, come to a halt at a grand supermarket in the nearest town. Howbeit relieved at being liberated from the insane traffic, it was honestly expected to be travelling at least until twilight colours the sky in a tropical gradient of mango yellow and papaya orange. Even food shopping can be done later since the cold luxurious apartment was not left without taking a few snacks and bottles of water for along the way. ‘What are we doing here?’

‘You might have everything you need, but I kinda... went to you unprepared.’ The key turns in the engine, the loud noise of the motor quickly tuning out to vanish completely in the ruckus of chatter against a background of moving wheels.

‘You did what?’ Like a gentleman, Chan extends a supporting hand to take while dismounting the vehicle, monitoring every movement to prevent any accidents.

It does not go a smoothly as planned, losing balance regardless of the support point but fortunately getting caught by surprised strong arms. ‘You okay?’ At seeing nothing is the matter after a thorough inspection, tensed shoulders sigh in relief as they relax. ‘I went to you with only a change of clothes, that’s all there is in this big backpack. Moreover, it’s better to do groceries now so we can make some good miles uninterrupted. Who knows where we’ll end up tonight? Wherever it might be, I’d rather have a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush in the least.’

As done many times in the past, strands are fondly ruffled, a cute suppressed giggle betraying the obvious enjoyment of the effect of the irritation the gesture is known to cause. Notwithstanding, as always and strangely more so than before, it is tolerated. Even delighted in, though a blatant display of the whirlwind inside is out of the picture for it best remains hidden among all the other odd sentiments that have come to stir a girl missing her best friend. ‘C’mon, I know you secretly like it when I do this.’

A roll of the eyes denotes the statement, nullifying the teasing confidence in the transformed yet familiar voice of the young tattoo artist. ‘Keep on dreaming, Chris Bang.’

‘You totally like it,’ comes the musing response to the futile verbal counterattack, dark Timberlands easily catching up to the sneakers already on their way to the supermarket.

‘No, I don’t.’ A huff comes from pouted lips, only leading to bubbly laughter from the side that makes the heart melt as it never has before.

‘Yes, you do~’ One hand tucked into the pocket of twilight-shaded ripped jeans, the other comes to rest on the right shoulder and pulls a fellow runaway sturdily against the side.

The gesture is answered by an arm snaking around Chan’s waist, holding on tightly out of the irrational fear of any type of separation occurring that will increase the homesickness again. However, the prominent sarcasm in voice hides the anxious thoughts about a premature end of the reunion. ‘Are you really gonna argue like this? How old are you again?’

‘The same age as you, although you sound awfully like a grandmother.’

‘Oh, grow up.’

‘I have.’ And something indescribable in the glimmer of irises signifies the time for joking is over, the sideways contact breaking off to entwine fingers after speaking in a sombre tone with a downcast gaze. ‘Though at times I wish I hadn’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it complicates things, too. Especially how- no, never mind. It’s not important.’ A solemn shake of platinum locks finishes the complete attempt at elaborating on the broken-off sentence, speech lowering to hopelessness as it repeats the heart-wrenching statement. ‘It’s not important.’

‘You know you can tell me everything, right? What’s up?’ Whatever is deemed superfluous, it does matter to the one who had to let the problems of the past years unconsciously slide. Finally, there is a chance to find a solution again so each issue can be met head-on either together or solely with a little bit of help.

Which is denied by a final close to the subject and a squeeze below. ‘Let’s just get what we need and go, Y/N.’

Not speaking further of the strange behaviour, the pathways lined with food on both sides are navigated while unconsciously switching trolley duty and searching each other when one of the two has wandered to a different section to retrieve supplies for the journey ahead. Of course, as tends to be the natural reaction towards pairs doing their groceries, people throw an inconspicuous glance in our direction while we simply go about while chatting as if there has never been a goodbye. Withal, an uncharacteristic darkness glosses over molten chocolate during the moments a guy without an apparent partner looks in our direction, Chan becoming very touchy by holding hands for no reason, throwing an arm around the shoulders to enhance the intimacy or leaning in as close as possible.

The latter happens again when standing in front of the razor section in the drugstore part of the mega shop and a sudden wonder strikes concerning what brand the tattoo artist uses nowadays.

The looming presence able to provide a question rising behind the back sends shivers down the spine, though it is not an unpleasant sensation and fuels the want to lean against the buff companion, especially at the sound of an amused hum. ‘Gillette.’

‘Huh, what?’

‘Gillette is the brand I use. In fact,’ a bright orange packet reading “Gillette Fusion” is taken from the rack and placed in a small palm, ‘this is the one, in particular, I tend to reach to.’

‘Good to know for when I have to do groceries for us in the future. For us as friends, naturally.’ The last part is hastily added to not cause any confusion about the status of the current renewed relationship, words coming out in a rapid unbroken stream.

A seemingly disagreeing muttering responds to the fast additional comment, thoughts gaining a voice howbeit in an incoherent fashion. All that can be gathered from it in terms of intelligibility is the wistful ‘don’t want to’ in the middle of a sentence. Nonetheless, when seeing the curiously raised eyebrow, the former friendly yet oddly protective composure is regained, nodding in a direction away from the current section of the supermarket at the appearance of a possible rival. ‘I think we have everything. Let’s pay and go.’

‘Chan, you’re acting weird.’ Reluctantly, broad shoulders are followed as they walk away in the direction of the checkout counter with attention turned unwaveringly towards a point somewhere in the distance.

Attention shifts when looking sideways at a tug on the oversized sweater scented with minty cologne which is grabbed in an effort to both halt hasty dark Timberlands and not lose him.

Not again.

Obviously irritated, a response is nothing short of growled, the fierceness of which instills a paralyzing fear into libs growing suddenly stiff. ‘No, I’m not. What are you on about?’

‘Yes, you are. You’re being more affectionate than you’ve ever been, but also more defensive.’ The ice is endeavoured to be knocked off from bones entirely to not lose a sliver of convincing power in the argument about the weird behaviour. In the past contact merely remained at a multitude of hugs and the occasional pat on the head, digits sometimes ruffling hair good-naturedly while proudly grinning.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not acting anything different from normal.’ Yet the suppressed snarl malforming plush lips tells a different story, revealing the truth underneath the concealing futile lie of normalcy.

‘Then why are we walking away just as another guy passes, eh?’ The last remnant of the abyss between us is breached without letting go of the piece of clothing, the tattooed wolf not tugging it out of the grasp as before, but carefully watching every movement with intent.

A hand comes to rest on the hip, compellingly guiding the way to the exit, sight ever onwards. ‘He’s got bad intentions.’

‘The chap over at the bakery, too?’

‘Yes.’

‘And in the fruits aisle?’

‘They were looking at you weirdly. I didn’t like it.’

‘Then what about the dude in the health aisle? Was he a suspicious character as well?’

‘He eyed you a bit too much.’

‘Chan, for God’s sake, I’m a grown-up woman. I can take care of myself.’ Although not a lie, what has really been done is taking care of myself just enough to keep the homesickness at bay, just enough to actually believe to be able to function as a proper independent adult. The blatant truth is that while the surface has been well-tended to, the foundation has been crumbling since the farewell without any hope of being restored as long as there was a distance filled with questions ripping it apart.

‘We’re on this journey together. You and I form a team, a “we”. There’s no “we” with any of those other men, they’re just individuals who can’t be there nor ever will be there for you as I am!’ The strange outburst at a stop in the open passage to the cash registers resembles the experience of a lonesome soul comically ensuring they are fine while being all but that yet never voicing this. Nevertheless, surely there had been someone for him to fill up the gap created by the tear, a beautiful girlfriend to come home to.

Notwithstanding, if that had been the case, then why is there a sense of prolonged yearning in the raging? All there is, after all, is friendship, which is made questionable by the passage of time.

Unoccupied digits place themselves over the heart in a heavily rising and falling chest, the vibrations of an unintended pleased hum reverberating through them. Curious how such a simple form of contact can calm a scarlet frenzy. ‘Tone down. What are you saying? Don’t tell me you’re actually jealous because that’s delusional.’

‘Just forget it.’ Passively aggressively, one hand lets go of the waist to envelop the appeasing digits that are left no choice, holding on to them for the silent remainder of the shopping break as the other pushes the trolley.

Only upon paying and dividing the additional stock of supplies among us does the touch unravel temporarily and once more when the helmet is securely put into place again.

And though hating the ridiculous rigidity that has surfaced out of the blue, automatically Chris’s waist is firmly held onto when the motor is mounted to continue the journey. However, muscles tangibly relax as the key turns in the engine, kind genuinely apologetic eyes glancing over a broad shoulder to meet a gaze traced with annoyance at the scene-making earlier though that fades away into forgiving softness at hearing the vocal crack which is tried to be dismissed casually. ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved. It’s just- we’re finally- I mean, it’s us together on this road and I want to see it through. I want for us to be at the end like how we started it, with the both of us by each other’s side.’

‘You could’ve made that clear another way, you know?’

‘Yeah... Yeah, I know.’ Uncertainty undeniably comes through in the manner in which the handles are rubbed as sight is turned towards the horizon again. ‘I should’ve thought before acting, acted differently. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s alright.’ Cheek pressed to the large dark backpack of the driver filled with provisions, the embrace is tightened. Speech lightens as the burden of failure to please, the fear of having messed up thanks to triggering so strong a reaction in a recently reunited with soul, is lifted and thus makes room for pure joyous contentment. ‘I’m here, still your travel buddy.’

‘You still like me?’

‘I do, Chan. I do still like you.’

‘Glad to hear that.’ Regardless of not looking back, the smile undoubtedly beginning to form on plush lips can nevertheless be envisioned. A calloused palm affectionately brushes over the digits firmly forming a knot below as the strange restraining undertone curiously returns. ‘I’m really happy to hear you say that.’

A chance to respond is nullified by the engine roaring to life, reawakening the instinct to do whatever it takes to survive a new encounter with rampant traffic racing at high speed. Yet, the knowledge of who the guide is and the faith put in him fuels the determination to see it through until the destination is reached.

Until we are like we were before.

Somewhere side by side.

Not footsteps to be washed away by the waves.

But those continuing to walk together.

Never alone.

Never again.

#Stray Kids #SKZ #Stray Kids fanfiction #Stray Kids x Reader #Kpopwonderlandtag #SKZ x Reader #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chris Bang #Chan

13 notes · View notes