#woe. angst. anguish

[witchofhimring]

To you who is lost

Chapter 1: Duty is the death of love

Chapter synopsis: Your husband leaves for despair and death. Left behinde, you are left at the mercy of others.

Warnings: Angst, abandonment, crying, pregnancy

Note: Usually I save notes for the end but this time I will also put some at the beginning. I am using their Quenya names (ex. Maedhros is called Maitimo).

Emmeril, Airin and llë are my OC's

You would lament thereafter for the lack of foresight. The wise in Arda would mourn their kindred, who had stepped out of bliss and into woe. Nerdanel, Amarië, Anairë, these great women of the Blessed Realm were linked in sorrow to those left behind. You joined this tragic assembly, united in regret. Days would waste away as you asked " What was there to be done?". Anguishing over every time you could have forestalled these harrowing events.

It had been a storm, slowly strengthening until its power was too great to prevail. Deceived, one and all had been taken in. Melkor's repentance had seemed so genuine. Save Tulkas and Curufinwe none had heeded any notion of trickery. Now the dark Vala's laughter rang in Angamando, echoing off the stone walls. In your own halls, you sighed. Brought so low you were a specter of the beautiful young elf maiden whose laughter had lit up Tirion. These days were dark with the Alduya felled.

"Will you come to bed?" Amarië, whose suffering was as great as yours, came forward. Together they cast their gazes to the darkness beyond. All of Arda had been plunged into an impenetrable shadow. Amarië's light was much dimmed, her golden hair hanging forlornly. She had always been pale and thin but her boundless joy had given her strength which many envied. They need envy no longer. Findaráto had sworn to return and Amarië held him to it. She was bound to him, although not formally, and believed he would return. For a time Amarië would remain before departing. She would dwell in her home and wait for Findaráto.

You had been gifted no such reassurance. Cast off, Maitimo had spurned every vow he made. Bitter words were exchanged, things that could not be unsaid. Unlike Amarië's stalwart serenity, you had wept. Your marriage had been waning for some time now. When Curufinwe stormed into exile you followed to Formenos. In Formenos you would lose your husband.

The laws of the Eldar commanded that husband and wife be one in all things. Never had you any cause to doubt these customs. Naturally, a husband and wife must cleave together. Growing up in a big, tightly-knit family, a certain worldview had been formed. There was never any doubt that if you married your husband would always protect you. And how could you not? Your father had always been so devoted to your mother, his desire to make her happy endless.

Your worldview had been, to a degree, changed when you married Maitimo. The house of Finwe had been in turmoil for quite some time. Since Finwe cemented his union Indis despite the protests of his son Feanaro, his progeny had torn at one another. Though to Nolofinwe's credit, the war was pitifully one-sided. Even those who had never encountered either prince heard of the brotherly animosity. A pungent cloud of this great house, many feared for the day a storm would break. Coming from a close family this was something of an anomaly. Your father had quarreled with his brothers, but nothing could sunder their bond. Your mother had her gripes with her sisters, but their love always brought them together again. Being the eldest of your family you had the unenviable job of keeping rambunctious youngers siblings in line. However no matter what troubles came your, love and affection remained. Perhaps this made the end inevitable.

You begged him not to leave that day. The death of High King Finwë plunged all of Arda into grief. Sickening amounts of blood were saturated into the ground. From there after that very spot was stained by Melkor's vile deed. The smell sent your head reeling and burning bile to bubble. You had never seen a dead body before and abhorred the slaughter of animals. They might think you weak for it, but you knew this sight would curdle the blood of even the most austere of elves. Wails of despair took the place of joy. The light had faded and everything became dark. If only it had stopped there, oh by Eru how you wished this was the worst.

It all started on a day filled with joy. Manwë had summoned the Houses Fingolfin and Curufinwë, ordering peace between the two families. Brother took brother in hand and promised peace and friendship. Though how sincere Curufinwë was remained unknown. Many times you had witnessed Curufinwë rage over his younger brother. He howled over the "spawn of Indis" and cursed him. Such festering resentment could not be swept aside by simple sweet words. "I know we should be glad. But I can not help feeling dread." Maitimo simply took your hand in his. "I assure you that nothing bad will happen." His smile reassured you. Oh how wrong he was. When the darkness fell confusion and fear reigned. Finwë was dead, the Silmarills stolen and half of the Edain of Valinor gone. The only respite was Arafinwë returning to take leadership.

All the lights went out. Melkor had drained the trees of all their light, and from there he fled. But there was no running from the darkness. Warmth and light were replaced by darkness and dread. Wails of the bereft took the place of laughter. You who had once been so full of joy had only despair for company. Things had been far from perfect even before the oath. When Curufinwë had been exiled your husband went with him. Of course, you understood his duty as the eldest son. But it didn't make the move from Tirion to Formenos. That day you had to leave behind all those you loved. Try as you might to sway Maitimo to stay, it worked to no avail. In those days you would have done anything for him, and so where he went you followed. You tried not to complain. Even when Curufinwë's temper became unbearable, or your friends stopped sending letters. You could not blame them, living in the court of temporary King Nolofinwë and keeping in touch with you was risky. At least your family was supportive. Your younger sisters and brothers But even in those cold days you still would never have thought Maitimo would leave you. The years had been trying, but he still cared for you in those days. Years later in the dead of night, as you lay awake, you wondered if every "I love you" had been a lie.

"Please, if you have ever loved me you would stay." He did not meet your eyes. He just looked back to the army assembling in the courtyard below. "Have I not followed you all these years? What could I have done for you to cast me aside!" You seized his arm. Gently he pried you off him. "Y/n, you must understand that I have to go. Of course you may follow me-" "I have done nothing but follow you! Maitimo this is suicide!" It was at this point your father in law chose to appear, ascending the steps in a storm of fury. "If you do not choose to follow your husband, as you are sworn to do, then you are no wife!" Temperamental, yes, but now there was the flame of madness dancing in his eyes. Curufinwë had taken leave of his senses. "My vows said that I would follow him as my conscious dictates! As your wife has stayed in Valinor so shall I." The comment was poorly timed. Anger beat so furiously in your chest that you thought not of the consequences. With a roar of unbridled fury, Curufinwë drew his sword. Horrified, both you and Maitimo stepped back. The tip was right at your neck, an inch further would slice the flesh. "Depart, faithless wretch! And do not let me find you lurking in these hall again lest I strike you dead!" Maitimo drew you away and behind him. "You will cease your insults of my wife." You stared up at him in awe. Here he was standing up to his father, possibly the greatest of the Noldor. You had thought at that moment Maitimo had seen sense. He led you off to a room, away from his father and the chaos below.

"Maitimo!" You flung your arms around his shoulders. An elated kiss was placed on his forehead. But his eyes were sad with what you later realized was guilt. Gently he pried you off of him. He was gentle but his actions indicated he wanted to put distance between you and himself. "Do-?" You were unable to finish. Maitimo closed his eyes and whispered something so quietly under his breath you almost missed it. Almost. "Please." "Maitimo?" Your temporary relief was dashed as quickly as it came. "Y/n, I must follow my father." One could hear a pin drop. Your world had been torn apart, fractured almost beyond repair. "My Lord-Maitimo! You must not!" Your body was shaking, horror gripping you like a vice. Your legs seemed unable to hold themselves, such was the agony you felt at that moment. Falling to your knees, you started to beg.

"Husband, if you have any love for me then-" Suddenly Maitimo's could not even meet your eye. "You will not sway me Y/n." His voice was hard, cold, a tone he had recently adopted and that reared its head more and more frequently. You could not believe what you were hearing. Your husband seemed to disregard the bond between man and wife, that they must always stay side by side. And here he was abandoning you at your hour of need. You were scared. Finwë was dead and the rest were in self imposed-exile. The journey ahead scared you. To leave the safe haven of Valinor was suicide. You could understand avenging the King, you had great love and respect for him. And as King he must be avenged. But this was beyond simple revenge. This very act would tear apart the house of Finwë, and all of Valinor. Your family. Curufinwë's heart had turned dark and following him to this end. And there was another, more overriding reason. A shaking hand went to your stomach.

It could be a lie to say that everything had been perfect before the darkening. Hard to admit, but your presence in the family was not welcomed by everyone. Curufinwë and his son who shared the same name looked upon you with disdain. You were to head-in-the-clouds for them to ever like. You tried, only to end in ridicule and failure. The escalation was partly your fault, afraid of causing trouble Maitimo was never told. Looking back, telling Maitimo might have been wiser. Alas, you did not. This was not to say the rest were unkind. Never had there been a great closeness between Tyelkormo, Carinstir and yourself, there was also never ill blood either. Though you were better acquainted with the latter's wife, Ilë. Macalaurë had always been kind but rather unapproachable, him being so proud. You supposed that was what Emmeril liked about him. The twins you were the closest to, out of the lot, Telvo and Pityo. His cousins hailing from the house of Nolofinwë you held a greater preference for. Save Turokáno who thought you rather silly.

There lay a great enmity between the houses Curufinwë and Nolofinwë. Or rather, Curufinwë held a deep mistrust and dislike of his younger brother. The ill sentiment had spread like a poison to all his kin, even the children. During the exile in Formenos you were forced to meet Findecáno and his younger sister, at times with Arakáno. Those years had been hard, especially for those such as Turkafinwë and Maitimo who forged deep bonds with their kin. Curufinwë the younger missed Írissë, despite his attempts to hide it. Those years in Formenos had been horribly lonely, bereft of company. With a family far away and friends forced to stay in Tirion company was limited. Only two friends had accompanied you. But denied company they soon started to despair. Despite what it cost you have them leave. Many tears had been shed that day. The resentment between the various members of Curufinwë started to devour the residents. Anger brewed, bitterness ensued.

"And Indis's brood wander those halls, our halls! What right... what claim does the House of Indis have to my father's throne! The throne of my forefathers!" Around Curufinwë's table everyone sat, save Ilë who pleaded exhaustion. The rest of you were not spared Curufinwë's rage. Sitting next to Maitimo your hands shook, his hand on your knee. The twins sat closest to their father, though Telufinwë not leaning in as close. Turkafinwë's seemed unusually thoughtful, for such a brash elf. Curufinwë the younger's face was obscured from shadow, his silent wife beside him. Morifinwë was leaning in towards Curufinwë with a red flush crawling up his face. Kanafinwë and Emmeril sat on the sidelines, observers of Curufinwë's rant. You would give anything to leave this table.

"What of our Uncle Arafinwë?" Maitimo was far too fond of his half-uncles for Curufinwë's liking. You could see his thin pale lips tighten. His dark blue eyes, bloodshot, narrowed in on Maitimo. "He is his mother's son." Curufinwë's stance was clear. Your thoughts went to Amarië who you had not seen in years. Last you heard Findaráto had pledged to marry her. Wondering if Curufinwë would allow you to attend their wedding, you looked outside. Formenos was cut off from the rest of Valinor. Held up in these mountains it was hard to see anything else. It only served to make you feel more nervous.

"Though, I do wonder if not everyone is paying attention." Curufinwë's tone made it seem he was scolding a child. Except it was you. "My apologies." Quickly covering your mistake, you sat there rigidly. "My wife meant no offense." Maitimo was swift to defend. Curufinwë looked ready to say more but chose to abstain. All you could do was stare at your lap, numb with anxiety.

Maitimo had changed. The bleakness and chill of Formenos had worn on everyone. Exhaustion had settled over the residents like a heavyweight. Loneliness became a constant companion, stalking you like a specter. In the beginning, it was not so bad. You spent time making this place a home. A small garden was built in the courtyard with help from Maitimo. Carefully you tended to the delicate petals, their white petals reflecting light. He would wind them in your hair, cascading down in a waterfall of flowers. They spent much of their time holed up inside their room. It became a safe haven, a world that separated themselves from all the torments outside. Light blue curtains adorned the windows, you had elected for a more simple style. Windows were left open a crack letting fresh air in. At times like these you could forget about everything.

The years passed and the bond between husband and wife started to crumble. A great toll was upheaving this family. Twelve years was but the link of an eyes to elves. For this family however, it dragged on. Every moment served to increase Curufinwë's rage and desire to avenge himself burned within. Like a disease it spread, its symptoms laying low the spirits of his heirs. Maitimo became sullen and the fire within seemed to flicker. The letters hailing from Tirion, where his beloved cousin Findecáno resided, remained unopened for days. When Maitimo finally did dare to gaze upon the contents they were for him only. Afterwards Maitimo would grow sullen once more and would disappear. Behind his back, although it brought guilt, you read its contents. It was the words of a cousin who missed his friend. He talked of times past and expressed joy in those to come. "I hope for further joy, so that all ill will become forgotten." He had written. Letters arrived from your sister as well. Airin was the closest in age to you, being only a few years your junior. Residing in the court of Anairë, Airin would provide information. King Nolofinwë ruled wisely and was much loved. Such tidings brought you no joy. Eru knew what Curufinwë might say. She was not the only one to bring information, Findecáno wrote to you as well, with affection that did little to curb a growing fear. He wished you well, that the days bring peace, but those words soothed not. There lingered an underlying anxiety to his words. Try as he might to cover it up.

"My dear daughter, we are well. But it would truly warm our hearts to know you too are well. Do not forget that all of us (yes, all of us) miss you dreadfully" Those letters remained in a safe wooden box. Sometimes you would read them when lonely. Even your brothers, who were a great many years younger, had written. Sadly, letters were no substitute for true company. Ilë, wife of Carnistir, was a good friend. But as time dragged on Ilë retreated and clung to her husband. Less and less she patrolled the halls, staying with her husband in solitude. Making friends with the other elf maidens, there was still a poignant loneliness. All they did was remind you of those left behind.

"It is merely your father's words, my love. Your uncle would never harm any of us." Your husband's anguish hurt you in turn. As a wife it was agonizing to know his pain and yet have no balm to heal the wound. Another one of Findecáno's letters lay forlornly on the bedside. Instead of bringing joy they served to torment. Maitimo was slumped against his chair by the windows. His bright blue eyes were focused on the mountains beyond. You stood beside him, fingers running through his red hair. For a while you said nothing. Gently you stroked his cheek which was unusually sallow. Leaning forward you kissed the cheek. Slightly, he leaned into your affection. "I know you will do what is right." Had those words strengthened him, or heaped on yet greater pressure onto Maitimo.

Everything changed when that great host left Valinor. You were left alone and exposed with no one to protect you. Everyone was either gone or wanted nothing to do with you. Maitimo had ordered those of his followers who stayed behind to protect you. But would they be able to? And could you, in good conscience, place those who were under your care into great danger? Thank Eru Arafinwë took pity on your condition. You had been barricaded in Formenos for fear when the youngest son of Finwë and his host came upon the fortress. To your surprise, he brought along Indis and Nerdanel. Despite your disgrace, they brought you with them to Tirion.

You sat on a bench with an outlook to the garden below. Despite its glamorous beauty, it brought you no joy. There was no light for the Two Trees had been utterly drained. It felt like divine providence, the trees set and your love as gone. Now it was dark as the hole in your heart. "Y/n, dear, you should no linger in the cold for so long. "Nerdanel stepped out onto the outlook. " Is it dinner already?" You drew your cloak tighter around yourself. Instinctively your hands cradled your ever expanding belly. "Yes. And Indis has prepared your favourite." At one times these temptations would have been rather tempting. But no food could fill you. Not now. "If not yourself then at least for him." "You are so certain?" Coming from Nerdanel the Wise the idea she might already know was not preposterous. Relenting, you got up. The baby was all you had left.

"And are we to forget that this woman chose to go into exile, against all common sense and decency." It was as you expected. Even with the new Lord of the Noldor beside you. It was Arafinwë's first council as leader (would that make him King now?) in the great halls. You remembered that last time you had been here. How Curufinwë unsheathed his sword and pointed it at his own brother. You recalled the horror and revulsion on the audience's face, and now all their eyes were on you. Every important lord and lady of Valinor were judging you. It hurt to know that some of them had once been your friends. Perhaps everything had been a lie. Your husband despised you and the rest of Valinor bore mistrusted.

"You forget, My Lord, that as a Princess and member of her lord husband's household, she was bound to follow him to whatever ends. It was only when it all became too much did Y/n depart from her husband. Her moral convictions won out, and despite their fëas being one she forsook him." Arafinwe's voice held a steely edge you had not yet heard before. The youngest son of Finwë was often misconceived as being shy, timid even. This was a misconception, he was simply quiet. Never should one misconstrue kindness for complacency. But one should never be complacent with the belief that silence means stupidity. Arafinwë stood up, white robes billowing behind him. You felt Nerdanel place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Have we fallen so far that we would attack a lonely woman? If we are to proceed with revenge in this matter, are we truly worthy to live amongst the Vala and Maia?' Some had the grace to look ashamed. Despite this, there were still some who had misgivings.

"My Lord, if I may speak." Lady Nimlothel served the house of Nolofinwë, more specifically it was his Lady wife she owed her allegiance to. With an elegant stride, she took the floor. "You may." Arafinwë answered, although his eyes looked wary. "The Lady Y/n is not responsible for her husband's ill deeds. Although I would like to add that Lady Nerdanel never fled into exile, a most wise decision. I suggest that the Lady Y/n retire, at least for a time. It would be unwise to allow such a remnant of Curufinwë's treachery to remain here." You felt so cold, so alone. They might not lock you up, but exile was little better. You would hide away, a forgotten remnant in a far off castle. An embarrassing chapter of Arda's history. Arafinwë sat down, troubled. "This council is dismissed. We shall convey at morning tomorrow."

"We may reside by my parent's hearth. They extend this offer to you too." Emmeril had bolted the chest shut. Sitting on a bed you watched Makalaurë's wife hastening departure. She along with Airin, wife of Curufinwë the Younger (your husband's brother) remained in Valinor. Ilë alone had departed, swearing to follow her husband Morifinwë, to whatever end. You prayed to Eru she would be well. Airin had long since departed. Saddened over the loss of husband and son she departed, destination unknown.

"My Lady, is that all?" One of Emmeril's handmaidens entered. "Take these out to the yard, then we depart." Once the handmaiden departed Emmeril turned to you. "What do you hope to accomplish by staying?" The bond between Emmeril and yourself had never been great. It was not personal dislike so much as never truly understanding one another. Emmeril was stern and hard, chafing against your soft and easy nature. But she had never been cruel or given you reason for mistrust. Emmeril's reasoning was wise in this matter. Leaving Tirion could allow you to start anew. You might have done so if it were not for the babe that dwelt within you. What sort of life would your child have? A permanent exile for the rest of their days? Could you even call yourself a mother while condemning a child to such a fate? Emmeril may think you a fool, and perhaps she was right to think so. But you would not reveal this secret to her. Now was not the time and frankly you were not ready.

Emmeril did not stay long, but departed for her family's home. You watched her go until the last of her horses were over the hill. The room suddenly felt colder, more forlorn. A choked sigh bordering on sobs left your mouth. At times like these you would have walked in the garden with Ilë. Only it was pitch black out and Ilë was gone. A soft knock at your door alerted you. Amarië swept in, pink silk trailing behind. "Y/n, Nerdanel wishes to give council." Rising up you followed Amarië. The hallway was obscured with shadows, torches providing ailing light. Even with windows barred shut you could still feel a draft. Even Amarië seemed to feel it, drawing her robe tighter. Every step echoed in these silent halls. Most had either fled Tirion or barricaded themselves in their rooms. Only guards remained patrolling the halls.

Nerdanel had taken quarters next to Queen Indis. Was Indis even still queen? Suspiciously guards regarded your presence. "Lady Nerdanel had sent for Lady Y/n. Queen Indis is aware." They let you in with a look of reluctance on their faces. The swords on their sides glimmered in the torchlight. Only a short time ago none dared to disregard the Valar's ordinance. Now none dared leave their rooms without protection. Such were these sad times. Nerdanel bore her usual attire, baggy brown pants and a white shirt. Her hair, Nerdanel had her back turn to you, was tied in a loose braid. Rubble and tools lay scattered. When Amarië cleared her throat Nerdanel seemed to finally take notice. "Lady Amarië, thank you." Amarië curtsied and made to leave. "Hold-" "I must depart. Lady Nerdanel wishes to speak to you in private." Now it was just Nerdanel and you. Nerdanel lightly kicked a hammer out of the way and picked up a tray. You smelt citrus and a hint of cinnamon. Sitting down you watched Nerdanel pour a cup of tea. "Care for some?" You nodded. You had the feeling this conversation was not simple idle chat.

Nerdanel did not beat around the bush. After a sip, her grey eyes focused on you. The look was not critical, but the one she adopted when an important topic was at hand. "I heard Emmeril offered you a place at her family home. Why did you not go?" She was not being critical, just inquiring. "I have never been close to Emmeril. It would be an intrusion on my part." Nerdanel poured another cup. "Will you remain here indefinitely?" "Nerdanel I do not know what to do. I am lost. In leaving I condemn myself and the baby to exile. In staying ill may come too, for those that support the Houses of Nolofinwë and Arafinwë have no love of Curufinwë's kin." Nerdanel reached out calloused hands, worn by years of her craft. Your own was not so smooth, for years of gardening had hardened the skin. "Fate may be kinder to you. Our king wishes to provide what help he can." The attempt was well made, yet still you remained unsettled. "My fate is solely in the hands of others. If I stay then it is another exile. I banish my freedom. Perhaps I should leave and lessen others' hold on me." Nerdanel's gaze went to your belly. If one was unaware they would not know. But soon it would swell and then what would happen then? Your family would be harboring a potential heir. Arafinwë was good and wise, but the actions others you must look to. Would they see the baby as a contender? If you stayed at court then an alliance could be built and no one could accuse you of hiding.

"Do what you think is best for yourself and the baby Y/n. But do not forget, make sure you stand on your own feet."

Note: This story has been in my drafts since September and was originally meant to be a one shot. A story surrounding the lives of those who stayed in Valinor is something I have been interested in for a while now. I am unsure how long this story will be. I will also be using the Quenya pronunciation for everyone's names unless canonically one is not provided. All the sons of Feanor use their mother-name except for Curufin.

While I use Jodie Comers face in the gifs and aesthetics for this story it is not meant to be a face claim. I simply like to use a certain character/acter's face in each series.

My OC's (the unnamed wives of the sons of Feanor) are my stand ins for the wives in every fanfic going forward. This is unless I write an x-reader involving one of the three married sons. In that case I will simply write them out. But going forward in this story and others they will exist. I intend to make character profiles for them at some point.

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know!

#the silmarillion x reader #silmarillion x reader #the silm #the silmarillion #silmarillion #to you who is lost #maedhros #maglor #celegorm #celegorm x aredhel #feanor x nerdanel #fingolfin x anaire #finrod x amarie #finarfin x earwen #finarfin #nerdanel #maitimo x reader #maedhros x reader

[starheirxero]

WOE, SERVANT SUN ANGST BE UPON YE !!! The fic is also under the cut in case you can't use ao3!

Summary:

The world-eater unleashed upon their dimension has done its job with ease. Buildings are reduced to rubble in mere seconds and many are lives snuffed in an instant. Sun was among those lives.

Now, in the afterlife, Sun finally feels every emotion he had locked away for the past century and Moon—a brother he never knew he had—is there to support him every step of the way.

Warnings: Major character death (already happened), angst, loss of faith, just generally a lot of very messy emotions

Word count: 1,091

"How are you feeling?"

Moon's soft tone is nearly drowned out by the sound of something cracking and falling in the distance. The rubble around them shakes from the force, a few books fall from the shelves behind them. Moon's legs dangle freely off the edge of a broken staircase, while Sun has his own curled up to his chest. Neither of them are particularly paying attention to the destruction around them.

"I don't know," Sun mumbles, "Tired, I think. Am I supposed to be feeling some type of way?"

"I wouldn't say you're supposed to be, but people are usually sad or angry or even relieved." Moon rubs his thumb back and forth against Sun's shoulder. "You feeling any of those?"

Sun shakes his head slowly, the golden eclipse earrings on his middle rays swinging with the motion. "I don't think so."

Moon waits a long moment, staring at the other bot expectantly. A bookshelf topples over loudly across the room. Outside, the world-eater lets out a sickening scream. Sun doesn't elaborate.

Moon sighs. "I think what I'm trying to ask you here is," he gently taps Sun's forehead, earning a startled noise from the other. "what's going on in that head of yours, bud?"

Sun stares up at Moon, chewing the side of his lip as he debated on whether or not to speak his mind. If this man is truly his brother like he claims, he may already know what to expect. Sun looks away.

"Do you think He's waiting for me?" Moon's soothing motion pauses for just a moment and Sun feels the need to explain himself. "I mean, surely He must be, right? During such an important time, He's likely gathering the rest of His followers, taking them to safety, and wondering where His last saint is. I promised Him I'd be there when He needs me most, but now I'm here when He needs me most and stars I know He will be upset with me."

"Sun, I don't think he—"

"What if He thinks I ran off, Moon?" Sun interrupts Moon with a frantic edge to his voice. The servant's body starts to tremble and Moon feels it in his hand. He opens his mouth to sooth his brother, but Sun speaks first. "What if He can't find my body and He thinks I broke every promise and prayer I ever made? What if He thinks I'm a traitor? What if He thinks the last century was nothing but a lie and I'm a dissenter, just as Bloodmoon was? What if He hates me?"

Sun suddenly stands up, pacing in a circle on what little flooring remained of the library's second story. Moon rises as well, but stands in the same spot. He watches his brother quietly.

"I did so much to show I still worshiped Him! I did all of this," he motions at himself wildly, "for Him! I did all of it without Him even prompting me to! My entire life centered on Him, every single ounce of energy I ever had was used to serve Him or think about Him! He was the air that entered my vents, He was the electricity in my wires, He was the solder that held my stupid, stupid body together!

"He was everything to me, Moon!" Sun suddenly turns his attention to Moon and he sees the tears threatening to fall from Sun's eyes. The world seems to shake louder at his anguish. "And I failed Him! I failed the one person I absolutely could not afford to fail! My god, my savior, the one constant in my life! How much of a fuck-up do I have to be to manage that?!"

Sun hiccups loudly and looks away to cover his face. Moon approaches his brother at a slow pace, gently putting his hands on his arms. Sun lets out a whimper and leans into Moon, crumbling into his arms and hiding his teary face in the bot's shoulder.

"Did I do good, at least?" Sun's voice is strained, desperate. "Or did I waste my life in the most pitiful way possible?"

Moon wraps his arms around Sun's body and hugs him tightly. He hasn't been able to do this for a century. It's nice. "You did perfect, Sun. You did all you could, even with someone like Eclipse looming over you at every turn. I'm proud of you, brother. I always have been."

And just like that, Sun's fragile mask melted.

His stifled cries become full-body sobs that were already leaving Moon's shoulder wet with tears. 100 years worth of grief—of anger, of disgust, of hatred, of fear—all come out in a wail that only the dead can hear. He wept for every soul he was forced to turn away from or harm, he wept for every part of himself he maimed in an attempt to feel holier, he wept for the person he used to be, he wept for the life he never had.

He wept for every moment he felt like his lord was truly going to kill him. He wept for every moment he dreamed of a kinder god. He wept, and he wept, and he wept.

When Sun's sobs and hiccups quieted, the world seemed to have done the same. No more tumbling buildings that shook the earth. No more screeches from the world-eater. Not even the sound of wind or rubble falling. So, in such a still moment, Sun admits something. "I think I hate him."

Moon hums, rubbing a hand down Sun's back in a soothing motion. "I know."

"I feel disgusting."

"I know."

"I don't want to be his servant anymore."

"What do you want to be, then?"

Sun pauses. He gently flicks the bell at the end of Moon's hat. "I want to be your brother."

"You already are my brother," Moon says with a chuckle.

"I wasn't really before this, though. I didn't even know you were here." Sun flicks the bell again, harder this time. Moon lets out a snort. "I want to know what it's like to be your brother. I want to know something that isn't Eclipse."

Moon mutters in understanding. "You know, I'm not the only brother you have."

Sun suddenly breaks the hug to look at Moon with wide eyes. "What? What does that mean??"

Moon smiles and wraps an arm around Sun's shoulder, guiding him through the broken remains of the library. "Here, follow me. I'm sure Lunar and Bloodmoon will be thrilled to see you."

Notes:

and the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

and the universe said the light you seek is within you

and the universe said I love you because you are love

HAPPY DAY EVERYONE ^_^ i hope this fic made you drop to your knees in a waffle house parking lot! reblogs and anguished tags are always appreciated <3

#xero creations #STARES AT YOU ALL WITH MY HUGE EYES. ENJOY THE PAIN #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #lord eclipse au #servant sun #sams moon #moon sams #angst #hurt/comfort #death #religous themes #very very lightly but still there bc sunvant talks about it #hopeful ending #capitialized He/Him for Lord Eclipse until Sunvant properly loses faith #then its just a normal lowercase he/him #also the title and end notes are just lines from the minecraft end poem LOL #sunvant

[eunoiaaaivy]

ღ....lifeline?

-cw: angst, character death, blood, unknown illness, unrequited love, short like me, mention of nightmares and crying, hyperventilating.

a/n: probs don't know abt this one. it's not really angsty.

he misses you. he misses your smiles, your laugh, the way your face would crinkle when you're happy. he just misses everything about you. he misses the way you would start a small banter with him, huffing when he calls you short. he misses ice cream on sundays with you. he misses everything related to you.

as he stares in the dark, the ceiling is what he is met with, mocking him with memories he's chasing. he could hear your laugh, despite the tick of the clock being loud. he could feel your presence hugging him from behind, even in the cold air of nothing. he could feel you. another sleepless night without you.

wasn't he stupid? why did he do that to you? why did he do that? just why? with the chasing of memories, he encounters what's there to be encountered. memories of flashing lights, the loud bustling crowd and the touching of skins, the memory of you in a cute dress, a confession remained in the air as he didn't say anything. and right then and there, the night he hates the most. because it was the last time you ever talked to each other. you lost contact, sweet moments and memories yet to be made.

it was only until he saw you at the vending machine, a shocked look on your face as you saw him. he recalls, the look he gave you was nothing of an accepted confession. it was a foreign, blank look as he no longer held warmth for you. as you reached out for him, he was met with the walls and ceilings of his bedroom as he realized it was a dream. his rushed breathing and ragged breath could be heard in the air as he tries to stabilize himself. the memory of you reaching out breaking into a thousand shards of glass as the realization eats him alive. before waking up, a flash was scene, there in all your glory, blood dripping from your nose as only a few seconds later you were met with the sound of gurgling blood out of your mouth, and as you looked at his eyes one last time, you collapsed on the floor.

and as he regains his breathing, he cries. he cries at the realization that you confessed knowing that your lifeline was going to end soon. he cries as he realized those memories eat him at night, taunting him for the things he's done to you. for treating you as such. for the lifeline that was taken away from you as he realizes that he loves you. he could remember faintly of the scene, ambulance blaring and teachers panicking, he stood there clueless. until your brother came and grabbed his collar, declaring the love you had for him was pure and unjudged, that your intentions were clear as daylight and your bright lovely heart has now dimmed like the moon on a long night.

he cries in anguish as you no longer breath. out of every day that he could've met you properly, why should've it been in your funeral, as he gazes through the area, the sobbing of your mother can be heard and the woes of your father loud and clear. the dullness of your siblings can be seen and the bright smile of yours in a picture frame in the middle of the center.

he realized, then and there that you died feeling alone. despite the friends and family, he knew you felt alone. as clear as the day and as dark as the night, you were no longer here. a brazen fool is what he calls himself as the pictures of you and him no longer feel special. and as the memories come flooding in once again on a peaceful night, he lets himself drown in them. he drowns his woes and sorrows in them as he is no longer met with a beating heartbeat. your lifeline has ended.

CLAUDE (WMMAP), AOMINE, SASUKE, ITACHI, KAKASHI, obito, dion, DILUC, kaeya, jean, eren, MIKEY, HANMA, ran, rindou, KAGEYAMA, TSUKISHIMA, kuroo, connie, hyuga junpei, NEJI, SEIJURO AKASHI, akashi keiji (?), IZEK, ERGI, sanemi, tengen, BAKUGOU, shinsou, aizawa, MEGUMI, TBH JUST ANYONE LOL I WANTED TO BE DRAMATIC. :DDDDD

©eunoiaaaivy || 2023

#tw angst #tw character death #tw blo0d #tw unknown illness #tw unrequited love #tw crying #tw emptiness #tw hyperventilation #knb #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #knb x reader #kuroko no basket #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #hq headcanons #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyorev x reader #demon slayer x gender neutral reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer

[buryustogether]

love, peace, patience, home

summary: in which crowley learns to live after aziraphale is gone.

word count: 3k

tags/warnings: praying, religion, alcoholism, mentions of death, angst, hurt/comfort, crowley is depressed, found family to the MAX, hey siri play i want to break free by queen

author’s note: what if i sobbed uncontrollably

Crowley prayed for the first time since his Fall the evening Aziraphale left him. He did it in his car, because he could not stand to be in the bookshop any longer than he was forced to. Where the bookshelves creaked beneath the weight of love stories and tales of woe, he heard only the sighs and echoes of what once had been. He heard the laughter that inhabited a dance party. He heard the drunken clink of crystal glasses filled with wine that would be returned to its bottle with simply the snap of a finger. He heard the panted breaths through flared nostrils as lips seared together and hands splayed across his back.

He heard far too many things that twisted and stabbed at that dark, rotten heart of his, so he prayed in his car.

He clasped his palms flat together and laced his fingers, and the feeling of creating a sort of knotted steeple with his hands pulled a lurch of his stomach from deep within his belly. Slowly, as if he were waiting for a sword to come down and replace his singular head with two more, he craned his neck and touched his forehead to his thumbs. His ears twitched as he listened to the sounds of nighttime in Soho; a cat yowling in the distance, children running out past their curfew, trucks late on their delivery schedule hurtling past him. It all seemed so very deafening now.

Crowley hesitated for a long, long while, sitting there in his Bentley with his head bowed against his hands. His golden eyes, slitted and dancing with a kind of intimidation forbidden from a demon’s gaze, slipped shut after what could have easily been an hour. His lips parted, and he forced himself to take a breath.

“Don’t know if you’re listening,” he spoke to the emptiness of the car, and to the ears above - so far above. “Or if you’re even bothering to listen to me. I…” He stopped there as the gravity of the situation dawned on him like holy water sizzling into his skin and leaving him nothing but a dark memory.

He was praying to the God who had created him, loved him, hated him, dropped him from the skies into depths of hellfire and anguish that lasted so long. So long. Where he could do nothing but scream and cry and pray for forgiveness until the tar inking his feathers dried and pulled him like lead to the ashy earth. She did everything for a reason - wasn’t that what the humans said? She had let him fall. She had called Aziraphale back.

Why should he pray to Her when She no longer prayed for him?

Crowley unlaced his fingers, even wiped them on his trousers for good measure. He released a slew of swears, and the Bentley seemed to sigh around him in a low creaking of metal and glass. With a sniff of contempt, he knocked the gear into drive and left Soho, and the bookshop, and that singular, miniscule sense of hope he had felt upon kissing his angel, behind.

Crowley rented a flat in Battersea after driving listlessly for two months. He did not stop for petrol. He did not stop for water for his small rainforest of plants in the backseat. He only stopped for liquor and to watch lightning storms when they jumped across the horizon like strokes of an indecisive painter.

His flat was not large, nor did it have the room to fit a double king size bed for him to pass the next century or so in, in peace. In fact, it barely had enough space for him and his greenery. He did not mind this after he grew accustomed to it; with no empty corners or deskspace, he could not glance to his right and pretend to see the gleam twinkling like stars in a pair of sky blue eyes.

Even after renting his flat, Crowley did not open the door for another month; not when the woman across the hall stopped by to give him a pan of welcome-to-the-building lasagna (it was quite horrible); not when smoke from downstairs set off the alarms and the other tenants crowded on the curb to wait for the all-clear. Not when he heard the soft cries of a cat wandering the floor.

Instead he only sat in an upholstered armchair and stared at the brick of the furthest wall, fingers hanging uselessly off the arms and his head tilted at an angle that, normally, would have given someone a crick in their joints. He did this because he knew if he let his head fall, his tears would, as well.

It was no less than a month and a half, or so, when Crowley at last sighed and got to his feet. Pushed his shades over his nose. Unlocked his flat door and stepped outside.

Crowley found love in the two young men downstairs trying to figure out the puzzle of living on their own. They were barely twenty or so - kids, really. The taller of the pair was called Van and wore his hair in a tangled mop over his eyes marked with liner and star-shaped patches he used to conceal his acne. The shorter of them was Sebastian, and he buzzed his head every time the choppy little roots grew too long for his liking. It quite fit with the scarlet red motorbike he drove and the dog tags around his neck that actually once came in a Halloween costume kit.

The demon learned all this when he passed the pair handing out flyers for a community bake sale on the front steps of their flat building. It became evident rather quickly that Van’s mouth was faster than his brain and did not know when to shut up.

“It’s to fund the parade in June,” Van told Crowley after stuffing a bright yellow flier into his hands. “Usually there’s a ton of handouts, and music, and the like. To celebrate, you know?”

Yes, Crowley knew. He’d been watching the same kind of parades from afar for so long he could remember when the first one had been. Had it been before or after Stonewall? He didn’t remember; he’d been hit over the head in a nasty tumble with the authorities after he’d thrown that first bottle.

He had never been able to enjoy the festivities himself. He did not think he deserved to enjoy things such as the like. Silly little humans, he liked to think, celebrating the freedom to love when he did not have it. But he did not think that now.

Crowley stuffed the flier into his blazer pocket and got two blocks down before he turned on his heel, found the boys hawking the little yellow papers, and gave them some three hundred quid for their bake-sale-parade-whatever they wanted to call it. Then he told them Soho was a better place to hand out their announcements than some shoddy neighborhood beside the murkiest part of the Thames. There was a little bookstore on a corner, he told them. Give out the fliers there.

He wanted to think, in that moment, that Aziraphale would have been proud of him. But he hissed and snapped and scolded himself for even allowing the angel back into his head. He drank himself silly that night, and only paused his destructive vice to answer the door when there came a rather annoying knock.

He found Sebastian on his doorstep inviting him down to dinner.

It was at this dinner of frozen pizza and breadsticks from the restaurant around the block that Crowley learned Van’s mother had kicked him out of his home for wearing skirts to school, and that Sebastian was actually from America on what his family thought was a mission trip in Africa. They met at an astronomy lecture at the planetarium.

“Hmm-mm,” Crowley said over the bottle of wine he had brought from his flat (he had gone back upstairs to fetch it after hearing his hosts only had water and week-old lemonade). “Awful place to meet, in my opinion. Stars? Bit cliche, don’t you think?”

“You’re daft, old man,” Van said as he placed his pizza crusts on Sebastian’s plate. “Stars are romantic. You know there’s an old myth that stars are actually people’s souls, and when they collide and explode and whatever, that’s them meeting their other half.”

Crowley exclaimed, “Horseshit! You think some - some bundle of burning, gaseous balls are souls? That’s not what they are. They’re just - just that! Big, searing lights that could burn the flesh off your bones in a fraction of a millisecond.”

Then Sebastian turned to Van and said, “I heard they’re putting in a new exhibit on Alpha Centauri.”

Sebastian and Van hauled Crowley back up the stairs to his flat that night.

Dinner became a weekly occurrence.

Crowley found peace in the old man who lived on the ground floor of his building. Everyone called him Morris. He did not know if that was his real name, but he didn’t like poking around much to ask.

“There she is,” said Morris the third time in a week Crowley returned the black and white cat to her old man. “I just don’t know how the little girl keeps getting out. I should have named her Houdini.”

Crowley knew; Morris often forgot to click his front door shut when he hobbled back on his hand carved cane from his daily amble around the block. He also knew Houdini’s acts had been short of nothing before a certain angel had offered to lend a hand in exchange for a favor, but he kept both these things to himself. It was not like Morris would understand either, anyhow.

“Come in, son, and have a seat,” the old man said as he slowly wobbled back inside his flat. The cat scampered inside and disappeared into another room. “I’ve just opened the daily crossword; this week’s topic is historic events. You’d think I wouldn’t have hardly any trouble with that, now, would you?”

Despite the open invitation, Crowley felt as though he were stuck, planted to the entryway. He found himself fearing - when did he begin doing that? - he would let himself slip back into his instinctual business of temptation, of sin, and convince the old timer to do something rash. Stick his head in the oven, or something of the like. Aziraphale had never let him alone with customers on his watch; did this count as the same thing, he wondered?

Was he so horrible and rotten inside out that he should decline, should slither back to his dark little Eden upstairs and breathe in the silence?

But Morris had already poured Crowley a cuppa, and Crowley knew refusing such a thing was rude. This, Aziraphale had also taught him.

“Suppose it gets lonely down here, doesn’t it?” the demon asked as he watched the old man do his crossword puzzle from behind those shades of his. “Hardly suspect the church kids are paying good-deed visits to this part of town.” He scrunched up his nose. “No offense.”

Morris chuckled from deep within his throat and the whiskers on his chin quivered as he spoke. “One would think,” he replied. His shaking hand used long, careful strokes to plot out each letter along the blank boxes. “But I have Francesa.” He gestured to the cat, who now lay across the back of the plastic-draped sofa cleaning her pink paws. “And Elizabeth will always be here.”

At this, Crowley’s attention was drawn to a yellowed portrait of a woman hung delicately above the mantelpiece. Her hair burned golden like sunlight and her smile showed just a bit too much gum.

He could not stop himself from asking, especially with a subtle hiss of his pointed tongue to smell the air, to smell the long-since faded scent of an elderly woman across the flat, “Don’t you ever want to up and leave? I mean, you pair obviously lived here for a time. Doesn’t it all bring back… you know.”

Dance parties. Refilled wine bottles. A kiss quite literally stolen in the sunlight that filtered through the windows.

Morris said, “I suppose sometimes. But, where would an old man go, hmm? Besides…” He exhaled a shaky, unsteady sigh and slowly crossed off a hint from the horizontal rows. “It hurt for a time, yes, but not anymore. All I’m left with now are the best times.” The old man went silent for a long moment as he studied his puzzle. “I just can’t seem to get this one.”

Crowley read the hint upside down. “The London Blitz,” he said.

He should have remembered the smoke and the bombs, the trembling of his hands as he raised the rifle on that bloody stage.

But all he pictured was that angelic face as he handed over a leather bag of books, and that dazzling smile through the lights and the whispers in the crowd.

Crowley found patience in the woman who lived across the hall from him with her four-year-old daughter and no one else but the drawings on the walls and the children’s movies playing on the telly all hours of the day.

There came a great shattering one day sometime in the afternoon that could have drawn the attention of the entire building, and it was Crowley who answered the sound.

Jamie was the woman’s name, and she bore the lines beneath her eyes of too many sleepless nights and the markings around her mouth of so, so many smiles - the kind that lit one’s face up like the only bulb in a darkened room. Crowley had seen that kind of smile before. Her little girl’s name was Claire, and she was rather tearbound at every inconvenience. Normally he would have rolled his eyes back in his head, or miracled the child into being silent. But he had become immune to it, listening to the pitiful little wails after nightmares or a favorite stuffy had been lost.

Crowley found himself listening to the girl’s cries as he glued pieces of a broken vase together again while Jamie bandaged a cut over a tiny knee in the loo down the hall. His hands held steady even over the sounds of little hiccups and the hushes of a sleep-deprived mother trying her very best.

What was that horrible feeling in Crowley’s stomach, just beneath his ribs? Sympathy?

When he was sure they were still occupied cleaning the loo of band aid wrappings, he waved a subtle hand over the shattered vase and watched from behind his shades as the ceramic pieces came together again as they once had been. Satisfied, he left the now-intact vase on the kitchen table and stood just as the girls entered the living room from around the corner.

“You’re not going already?” said Jamie as she plopped her little girl on the couch and set up a favorite film to play. “Please, let me send you home with a bit of dinner as a thank you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Crowley, in part because he did not like her cooking in the slightest. But he did not say that. “You’ve got your hands full, anyhow.”

“Oh, please.” Jamie produced a red little popsicle from the freezer and handed it to Claire, along with a quick kiss on the head to fix everything that had gone wrong. “I could juggle more than an acrobat.” With widened eyes and slightly parted lips, she examined the vase sitting on her kitchen table. “Wow. I can’t even see the cracks. You’re a miracle worker.”

Crowley watched as Claire’s hands grew stained red from her treat, sticky and sure to make a right mess. “Can I ask you something?” he found himself asking, despite everything that screamed at him to keep his damn mouth shut. “You ever lose your temper with… you know.” He gestured vaguely to the little girl and the mess she was making in the middle of the couch. Had that been his sofa, he would have gotten himself struck with the searing, crackling energy of raging lightning by now.

Jamie exhaled a deep sigh and braced herself on the table, face turned to her daughter and the silly animated film playing on the telly - for the umpteeth time. It was a wonder the pictures hadn’t burned themselves into the screen by now. “To be frank with you,” she said, “I do. It’s hard, I’ll tell you that. But… part of it, honestly, is finding things I love about her to cool me down. And that’s not hard.”

Crowley thought of all the things there were to love. Soft blue eyes. A plush, coy kind of smile. The sweet smell that lingered in the car long after his passenger had gone.

By the end of the season, Crowley had fixed so many things in Jamie’s flat he knew Claire’s favorite film by heart.

Crowley found home in the cramped little flat building in Battersea right beside the Thames. It was not a bookshop organized in such a tedious way he wondered how anything was found inside. It was not his car, parked obediently out on the curb in his now-designated spot.

It was his respective seat at a top on Christmas Eve, across from an old man whose name only may have been Morris, with a black and white cat who wove between the legs beneath the decorated table. It was the single mother called Jamie who placed a steaming meal on colorful placemats as she smoothed her little girl’s hair in the chair beside him and barked orders to the two young lovers - one Van and Sebastian - as they attempted to prepare dressings and toppings in the kitchen.

Crowley felt at ease there, welcome there, in a way he knew as foreign and unfamiliar. There was a kind of love here he was not supposed to feel because technically he had no heart, but he did; deep down in his chest, in his veins, in his very being. He felt it there at the table. He felt it in the stairwell on his way down to go and fetch the paper when dinner was done to fetch the paper with today’s crossword. He felt it on the front steps, covered in snow, where he met a gaze across the street he had spent centuries falling into over and over again.

Crowley and Aziraphale stared at one another for a long moment, there amidst the falling snow and illuminated by the blinking holiday lights strung across the poles.

Crowley felt a small hand tug at his sleeve, and after a few beats of stillness, he collected the paper and allowed Claire to pull him back inside. The door shut softly behind him; no slam, no resounding thud that echoed for miles.

Aziraphale’s gaze wandered up floor after floor until they landed on a flat window pouring from the edges with golden light, filled to the brim with laughter. He watched his demon join them, and a smile graced his lips before he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the evening.

#crowley x aziraphale #crowley #crowley good omens #good omens crowley #good omens #good omens aziraphale #aziracrow

[god-wept]

remnants of a dream.

s. ynopsis ; in which years have passed since you and rin had gazed at each other heart—to—heart, your connection with him devoid of the warmth that dwelled in the past.

❛ ﹠> caution! angst, rin being emotional &̲&̲ slapping you.

it hurts.

it stung, it burned, and it left a blossoming imprint on your delicate skin.

remnants of sorrow clung to your lashes, tears brimming your waterline as your eyes flickered with a semblance of muddled emotion ﹔anger, woe, anguish—it was all a blur, and for that, you were at least grateful to the smeared hues of your vision for blocking the face that once held the visage of someone you loved.

It pained you, really—to witness the person who you dedicated your heart to, become an unrecognizable enigma.

silence enraptured the room and suddenly you couldn't breathe, you couldn't speak, you couldn't comprehend the way viridescent embers flashed with a tinge of apathy.

your mouth was dry, stuck together. feeble voice stuck in your throat like a hard pill to swallow.

it felt like a hundred years—when in reality—it had only been just a few seconds until you had grasped the numbing pain that seared the side of your face.

ah, it's all coming together now. and you truly wished it didn't.

the organ that hammered against your chest, like a baton to a drum—it held the heavy pool of emotions that tainted your soul as all the memories you had so, so happily made become a weapon against you.

It sheathed its blade, waiting in the shadows to stab your chest with the dull edge of your weakness to love.

a shiver runs down your spine, tears you so desperately held, threatening to spill and walk down the path of the previous streaks that carved a line from your cheek to chin.

your visage was pallid and drawn with a face of fear, the blood pumping in your veins becoming cold with every second that had passed in this room.

I'm scared.

you didn't know if you were scared to feel the flash of pain that flickered on your cheek—or, if you were afraid of losing him.

regardless, this moment had your knees bucking indefinitely, your hands motioned forward to stabilize yourself at the very least from the inevitable fall caused by the impact of such bittersweet hymns.

rin. he feels a pang of guilt in his gut, remorse carrying itself to its features from the way his brows knit together, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes. oh, his eyes.

those same eyes you used to adore, jade hues filled with such reverent affection.

It was once something you adored very much.

but now, that vision had been dirtied by the gaze he had given you. one that made you doubt—even for just a moment—if that man you saw was truly rin.

you wished you were clueless and naive and unaware of the fact that the relationship you once had was showing the cracks and flaws, the holes you both couldn't fill simply because you weren't meant to be.

admittidly, you had doubts. guilts. you wanted to believe that all of this would work out, that the cliche excuse of love can conquer all would somehow, someway, pave a path where you both could have your happily ever after.

clearly you were a fool.

as childish as can be, you latched onto that string of hope that destiny was merely testing you—merely testing how far you would go for something as fickle as love.

it appears that fate had won once again. the oh, so cruel hands of fate.

as you feel the world stop, you could only shake uncontrollably ; you were unable to let even a meek murmur out.

stupidly, you stare up at him. features contorted in disbelief as ire licks at your skin like a dog.

a hand clutched to your chest, bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth ﹔ much to your chagrin, your tears let loose and your bubbling heartache burst like a dam.

your legs give up on you, almost as if it were rubbing more salt into the wound. heart unable to carry the weight of such a heavy burden.

within that fragment of a moment, the guilt that struck rin was almost unbearable—he rushes to your side almost immediately, and you wished he didn't.

a humorless laugh spills from your rogued lips, that easily swayed side of yourself laden with a tinge of hope—it disgusted you.

why now—why now, when you're finally coming into terms with yourself and the inevitable end of your honeyed endearments, saved only for the person you offered your entire existence to, only for him to drop it to his feet and crush it without a single heed for the hurt that wisped your eyes.

It was laughable, pathetic. and it was the last straw until the rope snapped.

rue streamed down your face. you blinked to meet rin's gaze ; your own red and dreary from the amount of tears you shed.

hate is an ugly thing—but, you didn't care. didn't care how you looked to anyone anymore. a part of you wanted to curse at him, condemn him, hurt him.

even if it was only a fraction of the pain you felt whenever you were alone in your shared bedroom, crying your pitiful heart out because of him and his sharp, bitter mouth.

I'm sure it would be fair to give him a taste of the sorrow you felt, the countless curses cradled at the tip of your tongue.

you wanted to make him feel how it felt for your heart to be gouged out and stabbed with a knife ten thousand times ; you opted to shatter him, and decay as the arrow that pierced his wound.

the plug that kept him alive—and then, you leave him to bleed out.

It should be okay. he should've expected it, since you were such a petty bitch to him, as he said.

his palm is transfixed onto your shoulder, bewilderment carressing his face—it was completely and utterly ridiculous.

your vexingly gentle hold on his hand was sweet, guiding his fingers away from your touch.

the warmth lingered atop his hand, burying him with an incredulous pile of remorse ; verdant hues flickering to the imprint on your face that he made.

even so, he acts as if he hadn't just spouted the cruelest of words. as if god weren't a witness to the cold blade of his tongue spitting blasphemy towards the person he should've loved.

the expression that resides on his countenance was revoltingly innocent—it was unfathomable that a person could be such a way after raising his hand against your flesh moments prior.

his eyes were downcast, bangs shading them away from you. his lips parted, as if juggling between options for his words—voice hoarse and quiet, laced with a touch of shame.

" ( y/n ) .. I— "

your lashes fluttered shut, a pained expression engraving itself onto your visage. a wordless raise of your finger to brush a strand of hair that tickled the side of your face.

as if mustering up the courage, you let out a sigh. building up your voice as firm as it can currently be.

" I don't think I can do this anymore. "

the tone of your voice was solemn, raspy and shyed away from firming itself ; but, the words you uttered had rendered a dribble of sweat to slide down rin's forehead, eyes widening ever so slightly with dread.

his lips quivered, the impact of your declaration seeping into the crevices of his mind.

the air was almost suffocating, room tense as rin contemplated his actions.

he contemplated between bowing down at your feet, tear—struck and pathetically crying for you to stay with him ; or, letting himself stay frozen.

to let you go and chalk up your existence in his life as a dream, remnant of the affection he yearned from you. living life as he wakes up day by day without your presence in his dull world.

while rin was still stuck in his mirage, you opted to gather your bearings. muffled footsteps growing ever so closer to the door.

" please. "

the unfamiliar sound made you pause in your steps—rin?

the faint sound of shuffling made you intake a deep inhale, deciding to stay for a moment. to witness the prideful itoshi rin crumbling beneath you.

it was bittersweet.

had he done this ages ago—had he threw his pride as you did to dedicate yourself to him, you both would've had the sliver of a chance of having a different outcome for your fallen relationship.

but unfortunately, time is an extremely valuable currency. and it was wasted on stupid choices.

all you could do was let a smile spread across your lips.

the kind that weighed no sincerity, faux merriment.

devoid of the love rin had grown used to, the one reserved only for him.

he'd lost your love.

he laments making mistakes in the past, etching scars unable to be healed even as time passes by ; he was dumb, arrogant—selfish.

and he swore he felt the world shatter before his eyes, broken into a million shards—hopeless in fixing it, impossible to put back together to what it once was.

desperation chained his body, a sudden surge within him making his legs move—to chase after the light that once shone above his world.

ah.

a tear rolls down your cheek.

itoshi rin, you heartless fucking bastard.

you made me wait years for this—I endured long years of your indifference to me and I accepted that you'd never change. that we don't work together—but, when i finally, finally let you go, you come running to me?

you wanted to scream those words at him—truly—but your mouth was tight together and refused to let a single sound past your lips.

" I'm sorry. "

he whispered it so tenderly into your ear, honeyed and lilt with regret—phantom of a kiss ghosting over your shoulder.

you bit your lip, enough to draw out blood, and calmed your shaking body.

a hand you raise goes to his cheek, cupping the flesh as you gazed up at him.

" .... I'm sorry. "

rin lets his face fall to the column of your neck, inhaling your scent as his face twisted with hurt, your palm moving to the crown of his head, patting the tousled green of silky strands.

" I know you are. "

you hushed him and he looks up at you, opening his mouth to speak—but, you cut him off.

" that's my last parting gift to you, itoshi. "

slowly, you remove his towering frame from you, watching as his eyes widen—his heart falling to his stomach at the name you used on him ; knuckles clutched and fist shaking.

you smile at him, turning your back towards the shaking boy and angling your neck to meet his face from behind.

" have a nice life. "

and then you left. exiting his apartment with ruined makeup and face scrunched as you weeped with a heavy heart.

@god-wept! do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.

#itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock #rin itoshi #angst #this is so bad sorry lol

[geddyqueer]

the fact that i actually have to work and can't simply sit here and hammer out chapter 5 so that the next update doesn't take a month... [woe] [angst] [pique] [agony] [anguish] [despair] [gloom]

[imperiuswrecked]

What are your favorite Namor lines from the comics? Not necessarily the most badass, just the best!

Not sure if I could reply with every single one of my favorite lines but these come to mind right now!

Woe to love that it should demand such a price. For surely I must now cut out my living heart!

The Avengers (1963) #292

I think about that quote and that scene often, it hasn't paid rent for living in my head for years!!! Perhaps because I deeply love a tragic romance, the anguish and angst that comes with it.

Melodramatic rhetoric is a royal prerogative.

Dark Reign: The Cabal - The Judgement of Namor

Translation: Only royals get to be dramatic! lol, it's just funny to me because this is one of Namor's dry humor jokes that are also 100% serious.

You dare to think you can kill me with a knife?

Avengers (2013) #40

I love this page, love that panel of Namor breaking T'challa's vibranium knife. Namor being hurt is very sexy.

I am Namor. The terrorist propaganda says I have issues. Don't trust the terrorist propaganda.

Bucky Barnes: The Winter Soldier (2014) #1

Namor sweetie you have so many issues. so very many. lmao. Namor is aware of the fact people are spreading propaganda against him.

The sea should boil with the righteous fury of Namor the Sub-Mariner.

Fear Itself: The Fearless #4

He's not angry because it means he gets to do something he loves best, fighting! Namor never met a Nazi he hasn't tried to kill/has killed.

#namor #namor the sub mariner #namor mckenzie #imp answers #quotes #when i have time i will make a master post of best lines from the comics

[dawndelion-winery]

Take A Chance

Diluc × GN!Reader (Kaeya endgame)

Warning: Angst

Diluc Ragnvindr. Ever the cold, untouchable uncrowned King of Mondstadt. You never thought you'd have any hope of reaching out to him. You fondly recalled his days as captain of the knights and wonder what happened to the bright young man who'd kiss the back of your hand as a greeting.

There's no simply getting over someone like Diluc, which drives you to the tavern in hopes he'll be on duty. They're dashed when you see Charles behind the counter, and plopping down on a seat, you decide the next best thing would be to drown your sorrows in the liquor he's so known for producing.

Twas just your luck that the current cavalry captain finds you, taking great interest in your woes. He doesn't draw the link to it being Diluc, miraculously, not managing to see the charm you describe the redhead with, thinking instead you'd mistakenly confessed to him. He smiles to himself as he helps you get back home. How could he not? After hearing how fondly you spoke of "him"...

You were a fool to think the winery master had no lingering feelings for you. A downright fool. Worse yet was how he was so sure you were at least a little bit fond of him. It was natural that he'd point out to his brother how it was likely a misunderstanding, only for Kaeya to defend you, ardently insisting there was something in the way you'd leaned into his hold. Both driven by desperation, it led to confrontation. And poor you, faced with the captain that dared to make a move, bringing you flowers while the other had only ever admired you from afar....it was obvious who you picked, leaving behind a heartbroken, anguished Ragnvindr who never had the courage to approach you- and now would never have the chance.

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @euphoric-author @paradise-creator @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @serenenation @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @howlantic @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @stunningstratagem @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc #kaeya #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc ragnivindr x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich x reader #winery specials

[mistycreeper]

i think i misunderstood your message and sent my matchup request to the wrong blog 🧍 so here it is again!

may i get a romantic overwatch matchup please? any gender is fine, but i prefer characters 25+

im 5'3 and nonbinary

I'm very shy and reserved at first but once i open up im very friendly and warm and a huge dork. im creative and i like to make things for people, whether its sewing or crocheting or drawing etc.

im easily flustered by anything flirty. im a good listener and i value communication greatly. i cry easily bc im sensitive and i struggle with emotional dysregulation. im a very caring person and can sometimes overdo it trying to be there for everyone. im also very stubborn, especially when someone either tries to make me do something i don't want to do, or says i can't do something. i have anxiety and often wake up at weird hours of the morning bc of it.

tysm!

Hrmm...in my humble opinion, I match you with:

☆ Reinhardt! ~ ☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.

[ Want one too? See here: (insert link to post ill make later) ]

(Warning: Long 'Keep Reading')

(Warning: Angst)

TLDR: He's anxious and caring too. You build each other up, and he especially nurtures you/ see last paragraph

It could go a number of ways. It was a bit of rummaging to find the right one, but if you like Rein I think it'd work out pretty good!

I can imagine you working in Overwatch when it got big in a teensy assistive position, occasionally bumping into the fabled heroes, usually for professional reasons.

And dear god, it was terrifying. That looming itching feeling of social pressure as you have to talk to them. At a work party Tracer had made an effort to try and talk to you, which kind of worked- you quietly babbled back and forth but the atmosphere with so many strangers was just kind of overwhelming. Cassidy had teased you, both simultaneously putting a blush on your face and a bubbling feeling of frustration. You wanted to prove his smug face wrong.

And you did. You were out of your shell, one way or another, and spiralled down this one-sided? Requited? God, who-knows - situation-ship with Cass that did you more harm than good. It was nice for a while, colourful, passionate, but fickle. The verbal equivalent of scraping at a smooth wall in your effort to help him as he slipped into Blackwatch. His ever-waning attention to your beautifully crafted gifts; his ignorance.

However, during that time you did meet the heroes personally. You caught Reinhardt's attention particularly. You were amazing! He'd look over your shoulder in awe in what you were making for Cassidy, spouting words of encouragement, saying something about how you should teach him so he could crochet for Ana and Fareeha. When someone dared you couldn't take your turn arm wrestling Rein, you did, and won! Crazy strength, right? Just kidding, he let you win. When you complained, you stayed up as everyone trickled out continually trying to beat him. It was very comical sight; opponents crouched over a table, one 2ft bigger than the other. When you were shy, he would offer a hand on your back as you entered the new thing together instead of alone. Reinhardt was always very clear with his emotions, which was quite grounding and you started to unintentionally imitate him a bit. You'd had your bubbly, loud conversations, but when Ana and Cass had left (and during Cass' stupid antics)- they sometimes became more quiet, and solemn. Seeing him awake too at ungodly hours of the night-morning, you had reached out to him in worry despite your state. The two of you had exchanged woes carefully and ending up in streaming tears in both sides, both of anguish and relief, ending in an all-encompassing hug underneath the cloudy night sky of Gibraltar. It was hard not to rely on him, because he wholeheartedly let you.

And that's it. Overwatch was...over? You remember that last day as your co-workers began to pack on to company helicraft to go back home from Gibraltar. Looking at Rein through the crowd, distraught. Ana was missing. You had sincerely guaranteed you would stay in touch until press had died down. With a tugging heartstring you returned home.

Looking at your comms device your stomach churned over Reinhardt's contact, finger hovering over the screen. What if he'd forgotten? Does he still want to speak? Is it saf- your thoughts cut off as the device lit up. A video call from Reinhardt. It was an initial image of a confused old man before he saw you, and his holographic face lit up. He corrected himself, asking of your safety, and if you are free to talk, etcetera. When you dizzily but enthusiastically agreed, he jumped back into over joyous questions, compliments and jokes. In this time apart, you would chat now and again. How Brigitte was; your latest projects; if you couldn't fall asleep or you woke up too early... It was nice during a time of ever-growing political tension.

Eventually, you were invited to visit for the holidays. As soon as you stepped off the hoverbus Reinhardt was there, asking you before scooping you up in a hearty hug and laugh. You'd missed that. As he gushed about his hometown you couldn't help but look over. He was overflowing with joviality- but weathered, more than before. An added sense of maturity and intelligence. You understood. And, it looked quite handsome on him. Not to mention the juxtaposition of his parental looking cardigan against his massive scar-strewn form.

This odd kind of new..adoration began to weasel its way into otherwise familiar interactions from back in Overwatch. Becoming more familiar with his bouts of depression, (Ana's death, all his friends disappearances...) consolations especially became more tender and intimate in the quiet hours of the Lindholm household or out on the green hills. Sometimes you'd wake up at a horribly early time, and going down the stairs you would find Reinhardt carefully cooking. Anxiety wake-ups didn't seem as bad anymore- actually, they became less frequent as you would just exist together into the night, sometimes even cuddle. Sometimes Torbjörn would shout and make you cry, leading to Brig and Rein to scold him and then comfort you, Reinhardt more calmly. You'd go grocery and material shopping (for Brig) together. Reinhardt would ever so subtly wince at loud metallic noises, and you would hold his hand. You'd take over for Brig in tending his wounds when he tried to 'stay in shape'. You weren't trying to be an opportunist, but god his body was pretty too. Maybe you paused a little too long, because in-between a pained grunt he chuckled. This confused you, as minute as it was, but it wasn't long before he began gently dropping more smart-mouthed compliments and half-jokes in a lower tone than normal. One night that you had stayed up late together he had pulled you aside. With the same sincerity and nervousness of when he had initially contacted you post-Overwatch; and the same cloudy night sky, he articulately confessed his growing romantic feelings for you.

If you reciprocate? He is overjoyed to a silent smile, forehead bumping against yours as he offers a calloused hand to rest on your cheek. He eventually looks through to you, a small smug smile as he articulates something cheesy but tender. Boundaries and expectations are shared, and it's pretty easy to trust each other. You have your own business to attend to, but when you do meet, it is loud and beautiful. Boisterous, passionate holidays and days together. He remembers what you taught him, and presents to you a bad crocheted..blanket (?) as big as his hand that he's proudly holding it with. You slam the table harder than him as you're so close to winning a stupid family board game against him. He princess carries you often just-cause. Quiet and meaningful talks as he holds on to your every word.

It's nice.

--------------------------------------------------BTS ↴

#reinhardt x reader #overwatch matchups #i have dcd we're square brutha *handshake emoji* #always more to say but cutting it here fo no GOODNIGHT #overwatch #reinhardt #baiiii

[ruiniel]

Endless - IV

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Rating: M

Relationships: Maedhros/fem!OC

Characters: Maedhros, Celegorm, Curufin, Maglor, Caranthir, Fingon, Fingolfin, Amrod, Amras, Original Elf Character(s), Sauron, more to be added

Tags and warnings: alternating POV, Recovery, Trauma, Beleriand, The Sindar, The Noldor, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dehumanization, Flashbacks, Past Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Mental Anguish, Survivor Guilt, Past Abuse, Alternate Universe, Psychosis, Internalized ableism, POV Original Character, Maedhros POV, more tags coming

Also on AO3

IV. Before dawn

The night was cold and unyielding when Mithiel reached her tent, her mind afire over the first encounter with the king of these people.

I am not at my best.

She chewed her lip, placing the journal Maedhros had given her on the table in the corner and taking a seat. He wanted to learn their language, which would apparently become part of her responsibilities. In truth, having now seen more of his demeanor — vastly different from his earlier mood at dinner — the prospect was as good as the circumstance allowed and would suit her approach. She hoped.

And Mithiel had spoken true on the topic of escaped thralls. But what she had seen of them, what she’d dealt with treating the shells of the Elves they once were, the vacant gazes and broken wills… the scarred Elf sitting before her tonight had possessed none such traits. He was undoubtedly marked and maimed in more ways than one by his ordeal at the hands of the Enemy, but there was resilience, that same silver-gold hope brimming in the depths of a blue-grey stare, fuelling her own determination.

He was often in pain, that much was certain; both physical and otherwise, but still he’d tried his best with her and that had also been evident, apologies notwithstanding. Mithiel still recalled the jerk of his body and the brief look of caged despair when she leaned closer to touch him, to wipe his cheek.

What have you lived through? she wondered, opening the journal and skimming over the writings in the hand of one who, it is said, turned to ashes upon death, finally consumed by the fire of his willful fëa.

Undoubtedly, this was his son, Mithiel concluded with half a smile, long fingers trailing over the neat binding and crisp pages, the beauty of the flowing script. 

She pored over the notes for some time, indeed finding nothing to correct: the observations were insightful and showed an unmistakable linguistic prowess. Mithiel read on, the soft light from the holders splashing over details on her people’s customs and language, all through the eyes of a newcomer.

Once the letters began twirling before her eyes, adding to a yawn’s overture, Mithiel closed the journal. She looked to her new bed with its welcoming folded arrangements. Despite the lateness of the hour, the prospect of sleep — or rather, of lying still — beckoned little. She felt like a seabird bound to a cliff, a wave seeking shores to crash against. Her limbs moved, set to remove her outer layers of clothing while her mind roamed far. 

She did not pity him, no. She thought of the way the yellow lights gleamed on his auburn hair, a beautiful shade framing a face carved by wielders of woe and hatred. As she sat on the bed, undoing her plait, their conversation resurfaced like restless fireflies. 

His questions, the cool assessment of her on his part Mithiel attributed to uncertainty. After all, this Elf had lived through the horrors of the mountain dungeons, had borne the yoke of slavery to the endless dark. His interest in her experience with the others was genuine, she could not fault him that.

She was pacing through the tent again before long, and since sleep eluded her and would do so for a while — since the first rising of the sun, parsing the waking hours from strips of night left erratic resting patterns — she donned her outer layers again and her cloak, then exited the tent. A little reconnaissance on her own away from the watchful eyes of princes would aid in obtaining a footing besides.

“What are… what are you doing here?” Maedhros asked, eyes still feverish as he took in Fingon’s windswept hair, the pronounced hollows and dips in his features, highlighted by the tall fires lit nearby. He was much thinner than in Valinor times, the struggles marked in his yet handsome face.

Fingon shrugged, glancing at his cousin with a kind smile, one of those crooked affairs leaving most people seeking more of it. “You might think me foolish.”

“Many already do, for your deliverance of me. Say on.” 

His kinsman sighed. “I had strange, strange dreams as of late. One learns to discard some of Irmo’s nightly incursions into one’s mind, but I was restless during the day, moreso after sundown. I wanted to… I must return soon, I cannot stay. I will not linger on news, my cousins will no doubt relay all that business when they reach you,” he spoke as Maedhros regained himself. 

Maedhros nodded. Fingolfin would not look kindly upon his son’s incursions into the Fëanorian camp, that much was plain, no matter the honor Fingon had gained among them, and irrespective of the few changes it brought. Thinking of current matters pacified his mind, and the cold bit into his cheek, seeped through his thought and quelled its feverish unrest. Fingon’s presence also aided though Maedhros could do little but pull at the loose threads of his own tunic until they unraveled completely, a ceaseless habit developed since his return to consciousness.

“Shall we go to your marquee to speak?” Fingon asked, looking this way and that, to the guards and other folk staring long at him — some with respect, some with awe, most with unease still. 

Maedhros swallowed. Cowardly though it was, he could not return there, not now. “Or… or join me by the fires?” he asked, blinking away a flashing vision of sharp, white teeth. He gestured at the people already gathering to one side of the settlement. 

Fingon acquiesced, “As you wish.”

They settled for a place farther from the others, sitting side by side down on a woodcrafted bench, watching the figures hallowed by flames and the sparks from the bonfires soaring up and dying in the night.

“Your people would rally to you,” Fingon spoke suddenly, and Maedhros knew why he had come.

He threw a stick into the nearest fire. “But yours would not.” He sighed. “Finno…”

Fingon gazed at him silently, urging Maedhros to continue with a dip of his chin. 

“I have seen…” Again, his tongue was in knots though he wanted to speak of it, knowing Fingon would listen if it meant it brought him relief. But he could not. To this day, he could not even share with his brothers what squirmed and haunted his innermost burrows of the heart. He stared into his cousin's expectant, hopeful gaze. Yes, he wanted to speak of it, but each time he tried, the stench of decay stifled his thoughts, and shadows blurred his memory. And then, there was… there was… 

Fingon shifted in his place, his speech low on the backdrop of other voices rising in soft humming a distance away. “Nelyo? I am here.”

Maedhros conjured his first memories of that lair, later proven to be only a skim of what followed. He closed his eyes at the unreal pressure of savage fingers wrapped around his throat, and turned his mind to the present, latching onto the sounds of a flute playing nearby. “I stood before the creatures he breeds; I knelt before his throne.” He glanced sideways at Fingon, catching the tremor of his clenched fists. “There are... no words, for the ways they seek to humiliate our people; for the torments they devise.”

Fingon peered at him with that cutting gaze and a calculating, righteous flare of ire Maedhros knew all too well. He burned with his own fire. It urged him to continue on the same spur that, in happier times, drove them together. Past the fires he looked, where his—their people gathered and mingled despite the foul-smelling fog, sharing in sweet-scented mead, their cloaks and shawls drawn tight about them. The words inched away from his scarred lips; the Silmarilli were bright in his mind. “The way we stand, now, will not avail us,” Maedhros said at last. 

“Somehow, I knew you would say this... and then?”

“I have yet to find an answer to that. But…” Maedhros looked his cousin in the eye. He knew Fingon, like the rest of Fingolfin's people, had not wholly, if at all, forgiven the betrayal. He knew his cousin had sought to retrieve him, desperate and alone, mainly for the closeness they once shared and the love that still bound them. “We should act as one host, not two.”

His kinsman nodded, then his bright gaze sought the skies, perhaps for long lost stars.

“I will… try to speak with Ñolofinwë,” Maedhros added. “Many are still wary and resentful, as I know they have a right to be,” he looked in sorrow upon Fingon, who’d lost friends, whose brother had lost a wife to the Ice and more. “The odd fights and conflicts, while not as frequent as before, have not ceased, have they?”

Fingon shook his head. 

“I know many of our own are remorseful,” Maedhros unraveled another thread from the sleeve of his right wrist. “Many had friends and kin among your host; many had looked in wonder upon you and saw crippled families, grief and a loss that is their own.”

“And yet.”

“And yet.” Maedhros clenched and unclenched his good hand. “Penance must be shown. Somehow.”

“Please tell me you do not speak of yourself, Maitimo,” Fingon murmured, shaking his head. “Even if it were so, your penance I have seen with my own eyes. You need not do more.”

Maedhros grit his teeth at the name, though coming from Fingon, it lost some of its acquired dread in the dungeons. “Dear Findekáno, you always thought too much of me.”

“One of us has to,” Fingon muttered, not unkindly. “Tell me, what are your thoughts?“

Maedhros nodded, looking blankly ahead. “It would be a start. It must be done. And then, our deeds should match our words.”  

“Nelyo.” Fingon raised a hand, his hesitant palm close to Maedhros’ shoulder, the question in his eyes.

Maedhros could not blame his caution, for after all, he had scratched and torn at his cousin with wiry limbs before, first prey to a rabid confusion upon the eagle’s back; he remembered mighty wings spread like great sails, and a confusing warmth cocooning him after years being whipped bare by the elements. He lowered his head, swallowing at the slight pressure on his shoulder. “That is not all,” Maedhros said.

Fingon released him slowly. He curled a knowing brow. “No.”

“Even before we set out on the march, there was division, was there not? You remember; I stood by Father, I could do nothing else. I... we, loved and still love him fiercely, you know this truth though it must hurt. But it was impossible to ignore how many looked to Ñolofinwë, to you; how many refused to renounce him. Do you recall?”

Fingon let his head fall back, gazing through the mists. “I remember the arguments, the fights. I remember fearing you’d break with so much tension amid all that strife, which both troubled and drew me closer to it all. But even those who had no love for my uncle were moved by his words, and I was one of them.”

Maedhros stared ahead, then back down, noticing his restless fingers had unravelled the hem of his sleeve. “But you did not knowingly slay your own.”

“No,” Fingon gritted, his voice turned hoarse, “we did so unknowingly,” he added with bitterness. “Do you forget most of us carry the guilt for those same crimes? I have not, nor has Father. They changed us all.” 

Maedhros said nothing, and Fingon sat and pondered for a while. The murders lay thick and heavy between them, in blood and saltwater. “How strange to look upon the past. We all saw untrodden lands before us, a return to an ancient homeland, to thrive with our knowledge and skill.”

“That may still come to be,” Maedhros spoke unto the flames, his voice flat and expression thoughtful. 

Fingon hummed. “You know, Russo, there is aught I’ve come to know on these shores,” he glanced at his cousin, a glint in his eye reminding Maedhros of bygone Tirion. Fingon was much the same in spirit, he found, save for the sharper edge to his dusky features and the icy resolve in his eyes. “The shadows are deepest before dawn.”

Maedhros turned the words over in his head. He added, lighter of mood than he’d felt in weeks, with a shade of snark he used to wield well. “Then, we must be near to dawn.”

Fingon shook his head with barely a whiff of laughter. “This I will say. Father is of a like mind with you. But keep your own counsel on this, for now. Please.”

“Have I ever been loose-tongued?”

“No, indeed. My father’s always known division will cripple us after we met the Enemy on the field, faced his stronghold and leaguer. But he is loath to foster more conflict and bring forth more dissent from ones holding resentment against those who abandoned them. Some would still rather punish than forgive.”

Maedhros caught Fingon’s gaze, and with much difficulty, smiled his smile that hurt. The light of the flames danced crookedly upon his scars. “I am hoping my attempt will aid in that respect.”

“My cousins—” Fingon began.

“... are my subjects,” Maedhros countered, frowning as he stared ahead. “Leave that matter to me.” Surprising even himself, he found a strong belief in his own words.

Fingon sighed again, his dark brow lifting in tune with a pointed half-smile, both tender and sorrowful. He lowered his head in a nod. “Well. I, for one, trust you.”

The muscles in his jaw unwound into the broader likeness of a smile, and Maedhros nearly did not utter the words. “After everything.” Emotion wound about his inner being like stubborn weeds on barren mountain paths.

“Moreso, after everything.”

When done paying a short visit to see her horse, pleased at the care with which he’d been tended to and sheltered, Mithiel took to wandering aimlessly through the settlement. The chill brought a sprint to her step, her silver hair hallowed in the pale blue light shed over paths by those peculiar, captivating lamps hung throughout the wide campsite area.  Soon, this will be as sturdy as a kingdom proper, since their builders I’m told are as gifted and speedy as their kin abiding on the opposite lakeside,  she thought. Mithiel knew these same folk had already built stone dwellings there, which they abandoned upon the arrival of their bedraggled kindred who’d survived the Ice. 

She walked, and walked, until the restless discord of thought within was somewhat abated, and her spirit was soothed by the stir of life around her. Already she missed her home, the small, warm cottage with its dark wood, its strong scents of herb and poultice. Already Mithiel missed her father, but steadied herself thinking of the duty promised to fulfil. 

The night spread like a giant formless beast slumbering across the land, and somewhere not far, a flute was playing. The music soothed, and as drawn by a foreign spell, Mithiel neared, finding her way towards many tall, bright fires. They soared against the blackness as in defiance of the persistent fog, and the folk gathered round them seemed none too different to her own during such cold, endless a night as Mithrim had known, long before the rising of the Sun. 

A flat, shining surface reflected back golden light not far to the right — the expanse of the great lake. Mithiel approached; by this time, it should be layered in ice, she thought, as happened already with many pools in the area at this time of year. She looked to the fires, but though their warmth teased her cheeks and the gathering seemed merry, her feet took her closer to the water’s edge. 

Drawing nearer, she saw another standing there, alone, gazing out into the distance; she discerned a tall, lithe frame, a dash of auburn in the ever-dancing firelight. At first, she wavered. Had he not found rest yet, either?

Turning back would be cowardice, though she halted some distance away, thinking he might favor his solitude; all Mithiel truly wanted now was to look upon the great mirror. 

She gazed into the murky darkness, unable to discern anything on the far opposite side due to the brume. But the stray light behind her glittered gold and orange over the glazed body of water, and though she missed the stars, this had a beauty all its own.

“Does rest elude you, Mistress?” 

Mithiel started, not having expected him to recognize her, let alone speak. They parted amiably enough—considering the circumstances, and she wanted to keep it that way. After all, she had work to do.

“No more than it does you, my—lord,” she settled. 

There was silence again, for a long time.

“Your people were the first to inhabit these lands, were they not?” came the question after a while.

“It is so,” Mithiel replied, still watching the lake, receiving a hum in response.

Though his manner was not light, the question had been merely that: a question. And so, Mithiel dared her own. “Is it true?” she asked. “That you looked upon the faces of the Ones of the West?” She knew the Ñoldor worshipped them, more than any of their kindred, and had heard they abided by their side and thrived in the kingdoms of that realm. 

“I have,” came the answer, “Even as they cursed us, I have.”

Mithiel faltered, “I— I am not sure I understand,” she added, her damned curiosity getting the better of her; suddenly she fretted having upset him; from what she’d seen of his nerves, they were curled and strung to the point of snapping most of the time. 

“No. But perhaps one day you will,” Maedhros said, and turned away even as Mithiel, out of instinct, neared to aid him; he stopped her with a sharp gesture of his left hand. “Good night once again, Mistress. I will see you on the morrow.”

“Rest well, king Nelyafinwë,” Mithiel spoke, and thought she heard a snort as she watched his retreat, and she wound her arms around herself tighter against the bitterness in his voice. 

Part I

#maedhros x oc #ruiniel:fanfiction

[khunwriting]

[Company]

Synopsis: Your heart beats for someone who cares for another.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Hero x Serena; Erik x Reader

“Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

It was just a side quest to help out Rodrigo Briscoletti with defeating some monsters that casted a curse on him and his family. A little task that gave the party a break from the weight of saving the world while still doing some good. And Eleven was never one to turn down a person in help, and that’s what made him oh so endearing. Always kind and considerate of the people around him.

“Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

Once they lifted the curse, of course Rodrigo asked if the party could assist with setting up the wedding. With Eleven being as he is, he happily accepted the additional task. And what other way then to help rehearse the ceremony with Eleven acting as a stand in groom. All he had to do was choose a blushing bride to act as his counterpart. It didn’t matter who it was as it was just a placeholder for the real engaged couple. It wasn’t like Eleven was going to actually get married to whoever he chose.

“I, Eleven, take you, Serena, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life,”

Yet why did it hurt so much watching Eleven stand at the altar with Serena?

You watched with blank eyes, taking in every single detail of the mock ceremony from the furthest wall away from the happy couple. Despite the ceremony not holding any true weight, you couldn’t miss the shy glances or rosy cheeks the pair held as they repeated Rodrigo’s words. To anyone witnessing the rehearsal, it was sweet and romantic—everything you’d want from a wedding. 

But to you, it was absolutely sickening. The ugly emotions brewing in your stomach nearly made you want to slip out of the room and run outside of the mansion to get away from the awful scene. If it wasn’t for Sylvando’s worried glances sent your way, you were sure she would’ve booked it when the whole ordeal had started.

It wasn’t fair. It’s not like you chose to fall for the ever sweet and handsome Luminary. He was the one who had shown you genuine kindness from the moment you two met. He was the one who listened to all of your woes and comforted you in your vulnerable moments.

It wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t like it was his fault either. Serena was bubbly and optimistic in the ways that you knew you weren’t. It wasn’t hard to like Serena and it’s easy to see why anyone would fall for her. It was simple; much like how you didn’t choose to fall for the Luminary. It just happened. 

“In the name of the Yggdrasil take and wear this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness,”

Still, it was too hard to watch. Your eyes were quick to slide to the floor once Eleven held the wedding band between his calloused fingers. You could hear the Luminary shuffle closer to the healer and it stung when he spoke with such a soft, adoring tone. Loving words never meant for you. 

For a moment, you were distracted as another body had settled right beside you. Their shoulder brushed against your own and the familiar scent of pine filled your nose, and you immediately knew who the newcomer was. Your eyes trailed from your dirty boots to look into a pair of blue eyes already staring back at you.

“I, Serena, take you, Eleven, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life,”

There Erik stood, his head leaning back against the wall as he just stared at you with silent regard. His half-lidded eyes were ever knowing and his lips had long tilted into a lopsided smirk. Erik looked as handsome as ever. Though you didn’t miss the underlying pain seeping into his beautiful blue hues—the same kind of anguish that mirrored her own heartbreak. Because, of course, you weren’t the only one affected by the stupid rehearsal. 

After all, misery loves company.

“In the name of the Yggdrasil take and wear this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness,”

It wasn't fair. It’s not like Erik chose to fall for the ever sweet and pretty mage. It was easy to like her. Simple really. But then the like turned into something more yet completely unobtainable. He couldn’t do that to his best friend, who timidly shared that he was in love with Serena all that time ago. No, Erik couldn’t backstab his partner like that. 

So here he stands, wallowing in self-pity with someone who shares his pain. Just knowing that someone else is bitter about the whole ordeal was enough to bring slight comfort to the thief. 

But it wasn’t enough to drown out the ceremony completely. No, he still was aware of the giant smile on their faces once Serena slipped the wedding band onto Eleven's finger. So, instead, he kept his gaze set on you. 

Beautiful and somber where you stood. Always realistic in the way you thought about everything, making you both a valuable companion yet hard to approach at times due to your standoff nature. Though, that’s what Erik enjoyed about your company. You were never one to linger on hopes and dreams as the weight of the world had a more prominent focus than your own desires. You were selfless and kind in that aspect. 

And Erik couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been better off falling for you instead of Serena. Maybe if you two met sooner, would things have been different? However, that’s just wistful thinking. Erik is no Eleven and you were no Serena. One can’t just force a role onto someone who was never meant to fit it. 

But couldn’t they try?

Erik wondered as his eyes drifted to his companion’s lips. The movement didn’t escape your eyes, but you also made no attempt to move away. Youjust tilted your head towards him as the thief leaned in closer. 

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride,”

Slowly, your eyes fluttered close, pressing your lips fervently against each other for some desperate comfort. And in that moment, you wished it was Eleven you were kissing. And, in the same manner, Erik wished it was Serena instead. 

Oh, how misery loves company.

#Dragon Quest #Dragon Quest XI #Dragon Quest 11 #DQXI #DQ11 #DQXI Erik #DQ11 Erik #Erik #Camus #Khunwriting #Scenario #DQXI Erik x Reader #DQ11 Erik x Reader

[txtmetonight]

First Love/Late Spring

call summary ⋆ ★ Kang Taehyun was your first love. And you're slowly coming to a realization that he may also become your first heartbreak.

pairing *. * Kang Taehyun x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst, Fluff

warnings *. Underage Drinking/Smoking, Crude Language, bad grammar because I was lazy to properly check it

call duration⋆ ★ 10.3k...

a/n*. * lmao guess who got the flu and the stomach bug at the same time. I love my life. but this one is a little more fluffier and may have gone a little bit overboard with it...oops but that's alr

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed// @matcha-binz

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

You used to watch the night sky and the morning sunrise through your open window, wishing for something new. The birds chirped at your woes and the crickets stayed quiet for your tears, for the love in your heart couldn’t be contained in its chamber. You prayed and prayed to the ones above for someone to love.

A person to cherish in this small town of yours, a boy who could handle the sticky smell of fish that your family harvested by the seashore, who could adore every one of your insecurities and turn them into something more.  

And in return for the cries that were wasted to mother earth herself, she whispered to fate to gift you with Kang Taehyun; your best friend turned boyfriend.  

You’ve known Kang Taehyun for your whole life, quite literally because he was born in the room right next to yours, both crying out just intervals apart...or that’s how your moms explained it. You were a cranky child, and he was quiet, but then the roles switched as you both grew older and suddenly you were the meek one while he chattered with anyone and everyone.

That’s why you suppose at the ripe age of ten, you believed that he wouldn’t like you, not when other gorgeous girls were chasing his heart. More confident ones that stood their ground and weren’t cowardly in actions and thoughts. Opposites of yours in nature, perhaps were his types, you would often think about.  

But he had proven you wrong in fourth grade at the Valentine’s Day dance, he had gotten on stage during the talent show section, sung his heart out, and then proposed that he liked you into the mic. He then proceeded to jump off from the not-too-tall platform and handed you red roses that were behind his back.

It was safe to say that you shyly accepted the flowers with a bright grin on your face, pulling him into a tight tug that caused a chain reaction of hoots from students around you.  

The black hole   Of the   Window   Where you sleep 

You’ve been dating Kang Taehyun for eight years, close to nine, and though you haven’t noticed it until now, you’re slowly being sucked into a hole of anguish that you’re not sure you can handle. For as long as you can remember, he’d always been ambitious, too passionate about the outside world. This town you two were born in, has locked him in chains.

Held him back from chasing his dreams that you were guilty of thinking were unnecessary and stupid. Not that you would ever tell him that–of course not. But who could blame you, when all you wanted to do was to stay in the comfort of the ocean waves? You desired to stay, and he wished to go.  

But that you would have many more years to think upon that, no? Maybe you could change his mind? 

You’ve been staring at Taehyun’s house for a while, hair slowly swaying against the wind that blows by; cooling down your burning skin. You look at it from different angles, observing every tiny detail, every flaw that you could find in the dead of night.

The moon provided a sense of light that was strong and mighty. For years on, you’ve put away the terrifying thought of growing up, where he had to ultimately leave you for his own good. You wouldn’t believe it at first, so you tucked it behind a string of memories, but now it had slowly resurfaced as reality had set its unbreakable path for him. And you’re forced to come to terms with it.  

How had time flown so much already? 

Closing your eyes, your lips tremble as you sink your back against the tiles of your roof. Stars glittered the space above, watching curiously as a young woman tossed and turned. The same stars that have watched you and Taehyun tumble into the overgrown grass below, hide in bushes to scare the neighborhood kids, and kiss softly near the shimmery sea. You suppose that they would miss him too. 

After all, you have only a few more months until graduation. 

You and Taehyun had decided to skip school today and run towards the kids' playground, down by a passing of trees that wind up into a swing set and into a large play set that had a multitude of slides and ladders. Your uniform had been ruffled in its attempt to be free from your skirt, your socks were at different lengths, and your hair was a mess, but Taehyun thought that you were the most gorgeous woman alive. He couldn’t get enough of you he thinks, as you’re in arms, stupidly in love with him, with both of your bodies crammed in a tunnel.  

He likes to think that time and space has stopped when it’s you and him together, just to make him feel better but taking one look outside, he knows that could never happen as much as he wished on a shooting star. Your parents were going to be worried soon, maybe you two should– 

“Tyunnie, we should go before I sleep on you,” You yawn, rubbing your eyes as you try to peel off him, but it was hard at the way that he pressed into you with his nose at your nape. “I would just carry you, if you did actually fall asleep,” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your forehead, before helping you crawl out of the tunnel. 

“Nuh uh. You would’ve left me to rot and get eaten by the wolves!” 

Taehyun sighs, “You’ve been spending too much time with Ryujin lately. She’s corrupted you, sweetheart.” He goes to clasp your hand with his, and suddenly your heart aches. You trace the pathways with your eyes, relishing the bittersweet moment that wraps around your throat holding you tight.  

“No, she hasn’t.” You grasp his hand tighter, afraid that he’s going to disappear, hiding in the silence of your words.  

Looking at you, Taehyun notices that you’ve been too quiet, and it hurts him at the way that you look crestfallen, with your stunning lips always downturned. He knows why. But he still asks for your answer, in hopes that you will still talk to him. 

“What’s wrong? You usually would’ve talked my head off by now.” He softly jokes, brushing your hair out your face, carefully watching you contort your smile into something near plastic. “Nothing much. I–” You struggle with the way that your tongue ties in your mouth, but Taehyun was the beating of your heart, so he understands the way that your fingers shake against him.  

The night breeze   Carries 

“I...I want peaches.”  Your head shoots up at Taehyun, smiling as his eyes recognize the sweet smell that perfumes the area. “Fucking hell...” He grins, pressing his lips to your hands. “Peach trees!” You tug at his arms, as you both run in a whole other direction that your homes were but being a few minutes late to supper wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Trees that held peaches were your favorite trees. Pies that were made with peaches were your favorite pies. Wine that was fermented from peaches was your favorite beverage. Taehyun’s lips coated in the sweet peach nectar, were how you liked to kiss him best.  

You loved peaches, he loved peaches. One night he had proposed that he had a dream with you that you two had owned a peach farm. You two were dressed quite funnily, with big straw hats that carried a family of mice, but it was cute. Oh, and Hobak was there too.  

Your smile diminishes at the thought, but you won’t let it ruin your mood, not when you still must make more happy memories with Taehyun by your side. “It smells so good!” You whine, trying to gasp for breath that you left behind while on your hunt for the fruit. “Gosh, what am I going to do with you?” He laughs, which funnily disappears into an echo when he tries to reach for the fruit, but grazes with it when he jumps.  

You snort at the way that his eyebrows furrow, putting up your hands when he tries to send you an intimidating look. “Get out of the way loser, let the pro do her work!” He rolls his eyes as you try to climb the tree itself, but he’s right behind you making sure you don’t fall off. When you get on onto a shaky branch, his hold on your hips makes you dizzy and dopey but you don’t let up on your mission for the fruit.

Grabbing the nearest one without straining yourself, you hand it to Taehyun who stores it in his pockets. And then you give another one, and then another, and then another, before both of your boyfriend’s pockets and your hands are full.  

Turning your head, your eyes flicker to the ground and then you congratulate yourself for pondering a good idea. “Hey Tae, throw your blazer on the ground!” His lips twist but he doesn’t complain, putting his blazer on top of the soft grass just as you asked him to. Crouching against the tree, you gently throw the peaches onto the piece of clothing before you lift your body again, this time holding a mischievous glint in your eyes.  

“Catch me, baby!” You squeal, and Taehyun predicts it as he steps forward and swooshes you from the sky, barely even grunting when you land in his arms. He’s gotten used to the weight of your body against him, and it makes him fuzzy when you land a kiss on his nose when he curls his biceps. 

“Hate you.”  

“Sure, you do.” You gingerly say, looking into his eyes. You seem to be searching for something under the expanse of his iris, but when you don’t find anything, you wrap your hands around his neck, swallowing deeply at his penetrating gaze. 

“You better eat a lot of peaches in the states.” 

He scoffs, “We don’t even know if I got in or not yet.” You nod and grab the fruit from his trousers, feeding yourself with it. “You definitely did. My gut tells me it and whenever have I ever been wrong?” You know that even if he doesn’t get the letter through the mail, he’s going to leave anyway. You think that’s worse. 

“Or that’s your stomach growling, idiot.” He flicks your forehead before he too takes a bite out from the peach in your hand, juices rolling down your hand. It’s sticky but feels nice on your skin.  

“You’re not very nice, are you?” You stick your tongue at him but take his lips softly underneath the soft leaves of the peach tree. You two soon engrave the initials of your love in the bark, admiring the tan hiding below the dark brown of the wood.  

Something sweet   A peach tree 

Wild women don't get the blues 

You don’t think you’ve ever found Rei Yujin’s and Park Sungho’s teasing this annoying before. It was a stuffy spring day that forced the school to finally turn on their ACs for the sake of not overheating. It was finally break time, and a popsicle was in hand as well in the hold of the other younger two after they had begged you to buy them some. But you were on the verge of shoving the sweet treat up their noses if they didn’t zip their mouths shut soon.  

“I heard that Taehyun is leaving soon?” Yujin slightly tugs at your hair as you pull out a book to read to ignore them, a great grin on her face as she nudges her friend. “Oh yeah me too! You’re finally going to be single soon (Y/n)!”  

Ouch.  

“What’s it with you two if he’s actually leaving? It doesn’t concern you guys at all.”  

“No, I guess not...” The girl trails off, leaning back in her chair. You wish that they would leave you alone, though you know that they were just teasing you. But it still hurt. A lot. Fingers tracing the pages of the book, you flip each one without even scanning a word or two; you’re immersed in your own brain as of now.

“Oh Yujin, what if he finds a hot girl? You know the one that we find on TV; Kate Winslet style with her rich, red hair and her beautiful skin and her–” 

Yujin smacks his head and they're both giggling at each other, while you stopped listening to their words the moment, they mention Taehyun finding another woman. Your feet tap against the ground with an anxious tremor that you wish to stop. You haven’t cried in so long with others around; no, you’re not a crybaby. You’re strong and you deserve to sneak in some soju from your parent’s shed.  

“You know what would be funny though. Taehyun forgetting her.” Sungho nods along with her, his head in his palms as he watches your back quiver, you’re finally catching onto their jokes, and you just don’t want to admit it!  

But I find that   Lately I've been crying like a   Tall child 

“Hey (Y/n) did you hear that? (Y/n)?” Drops slowly splatter onto your book, marking the pages with your heartbreak.

You start to sob with flushed cheeks, unable to hold back. You’re busted up in all the ways possible as if their mere quips were stones that bruised your insides. You don’t know what you would ever do if Taehyun had forgotten you, not when you think of your life, you think of him.  

The two kids start to panic at your outburst and start to shoo the other kids (it was just a poor boy, who was playing Mario on his switch) away to save your face. You feel ashamed and pitiful as Yujin tries to dry your tears and sends Sungho away to call your boyfriend, which you desperately try to croak out not to, but they can’t hear you through your blubber of tears. You feel like a kid again, like your joints were aching as they grew shorter and shorter, teeth painfully being replaced with their baby ones.  

You’re (Y/n) (L/n) and eighteen years old, simultaneously portraying as a five-year-old crying in grief. In sadness of a wounding change that could alter your life forever.  

“We’re so sorry (Y/n). We–we didn’t know, well–” She stumbles before she’s interrupted by the door opening, revealing one worried boyfriend and your...peer that looks like a sheet of paper. “Please leave,” Taehyun demands, and the poor kids squeak at the way that his eyes narrow, running past him in guilt and fear.  

Slow steps that hold heaviness that weighed in his heart make your stomach churn as tender hands come to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart...” He tries, but you move away from his touch, and it breaks him a little. Taehyun grabs your fingers and presses them to his lips and then to his chest, soaking in the way that you cry even harder at the gesture. He’s seen you cry a plentiful of times, but it’s more intimate this time the way that the pain seeps through his veins, slowly suffocating him alive. 

He then realizes that he never wants to see you cry. Taehyun starts to sob alongside you, quiet tears leaking from his eyes, 

“Do you know how to make a scrapbook?” He starts off slowly, mouth shaking when he feels your fingers wipe away the tears that cascade beautifully down his cheeks. You nod at his question and release a shaky breath to let him continue. “I want to mark our moments together, on pages. Happily, together.” He stares sadly at you, which makes you giggle at the way that his eyes represent boba pearls.  

“Did I say something wrong?” He cocks his head, and you say nothing but smile, whispering quietly that all you needed was a good cry session. Taehyun opens his mouth to say something, but the shrill ring of the bell stops him midway. Swiftly wiping your tears and his, he leans in closer by your ear. 

“I love you.”  

And then he leaves you to be as your classmates come pouring in, aware of the miserable gaze that follows him out.  

You don’t know if you can do this anymore. A knife runs deeper into your flesh, each day as you look at the calendar, counting the days off to your heart’s demise. You don’t know why it hurts so much, watching him leave.  

But you suppose you’ll love him forever, no? But maybe it hurts to think that he won’t love you but pondering about it longer, it would probably be worse if he still did for the reason, that you won’t be there to experience his heart for a while. A while too long for you to handle. But for Taehyun you’ll do anything for him to be happy.  

And so that night, you let him sneak into your room, one hand over your eyes and the other over your shoulders, assisting you over the tree branches. “I don’t understand why you have to cover my eyes,” You pout and he just chuckles, slightly grunting trying to get past a thick branch without tripping.

“Because I want it to be a surprise–come on sweetheart, lift your legs for me for a second.” Your cheeks burn as you do what he says, squeaking when your flip-flops hit the ground.  

“If you kill me then I swear I’ll haunt you forever.”  

Taehyun snorts before he tightly grabs your hand, pulling you along away from your driveway. “You won’t die...if you hold onto me tight enough.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, feet dragging against the gravel wondering what he was planning. He was quite unpredictable; you could never guess what he would do.  

“What do you mean–holy fuck is that a motorcycle!?”  

His hands leave your eyes and reveal a shiny black motorcycle, polished in its glory. Two matching helmets hung from the handlebars, still as they put on a show for you two; it looked absolutely ethereal.

“Where did you get that?” You murmur, stalking forward to swipe your finger against the cool, metal, smiling when Taehyun kisses your cheek before getting on the seat. “Asked old Mr. Hwang for it, and after bribing him with money, I was able to get my hands on this!” 

He then gently pulls you behind him and tucks your arms around his fit waist, handing you one of the helmets to put on. “I know how much you wanted this, baby. Go on a ride with me through the dark?” 

Butterflies flutter through your stomach with great ferocity, their wings graze your throat. You think you’re going insane at the way that he squeezes your arms, looking at you for an answer. And who are you to deny him?  

“Of course. I would love to.” You sweetly twinkle, clicking in the straps of your helmet and reaching your arms forward to do the same with your boyfriend...before you realize something. “Wait Tae, do you even know how to drive this!?”  

“Er not really. But I’ll figure it out on the way.” He says with a little too much confidence that it partly scares you, to only receive a heart attack when the engine awakens to life. “Oh god, please don’t let us die!” Throwing your body closer, you close your eyes against his back, mouth pressed together when the wheels start moving.  

“Stop being so dramatic. And I promise nothing will happen to you or to me!”  

His words bring you little comfort that quickly leaves your soul, the minute that he bends forward, speeding up the vehicle, forcing tears into your eyes from the intense wind that flies by. “Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit!” You cry, hugging him tighter against you, when the bike trembles a little.  

“Open your eyes!” He looks back for a second before your hands slap his helmet forward, roughly patting his back when he finds it funny at the way you worry. But honestly, when you told him that you wished to go on a motorcycle ride with him, dead at night, you were particularly sure that you did not want to die while you were at it.  

“(Y/n)!” Taehyun whines, making you grumble against him, but you still lift your face from his back and open your eyes just as he says. 

“Woah...” The passing sea, just where it got too deep for anyone to visit was glowing green, almost as if some kid had decided to color the deep blue with a green glow stick. Just a few meters away from the coast stood tall trees that illuminated the green. “So pretty–you better not say anything cheesy!” You point towards the side mirrors, having fun at the way that he shakes his head and says, “You got me there.”  

You don’t exactly think about where he was taking you to, nor did you really care. But how could you? With Taehyun by your side for the moment, everything feels right, like the earth has finally found its missing puzzle piece that’s been missing for a gazillion of billions of years.

But the place that he drives you to is something that jolts your heart, turning your gaze to his curious expression that expresses something shy of sheepishness; his own look that was only reserved for you to read like a map.  

A large billboard stands tall and high, and painted in white letters on either side of the board read, “Welcome to Moaville” and the other “Goodbye, hope you’ll visit us soon again.” Taehyun cuts off the bike and helps you off before he takes the helmet from your hand, which you weakly drop.  

“Why are we here?” You ask, but you immediately know why, when he pulls out a small picture-sized book with empty pages and a small polaroid that were both hidden in a satchel that were both masked from sight. You take the camera from his hands, and bring it up to look through the lenses, smiling when you find Taehyun already looking at you. 

“Take a picture of me?” He poses, looking a little goofy but endearing, so you nod (you were already planning to anyways) and click the button on top, creating a blinding flash. Almost immediately the film starts to slowly make its way to the top which you pull out and shake.  

“Did you make me look good?” He asks, walking to your side to look at the emerging photo. “You always look good,” You whisper, sighing when you were right; he looked almost ghostly in the picture but still handsome as ever.  

Fingers placed on your chin; he pulls your face towards him. “You make me feel good.” He rasps and pulls you to sit down on the side where it says goodbye. Taehyun was someone you had to study through the lines, he was subtle in the way that he hinted at his true feelings, so you started to have a knack for observing when it came to him.

Ogling at the board, you imagine that if he had left you now, the sense of surprise would’ve bandaged the wound for now.  

You envision him saying ‘goodbye’ and walking into the night, leaving you alone. But what pains more is the ‘I love you’ he cries to you.  

You decide that when the day comes, you’re going to shut him off with a kiss because his words break the fragile bones that you hold, the ones that could puncture your heart from the way that it feels like it’s going to explode. Especially when Taehyun himself has gone glazy-eyed staring into the distance.  

So please hurry leave me   I can't breathe   Please don't say you love me   胸がはち切れそうで 

“We should start,” You say, taking the bag from beside him and dumping everything out, shocked to see the numerous pictures that slide out. “Where did you get all of these from?” You question, softly counting to yourself.  

“I have my ways.” 

“Creepy” You laugh, before you abruptly stop, stomach turning in at itself as you pick up a photograph of you and him; a seemingly innocent one, but it held many memories that you hold dear to your heart. “You still have this...” You lean on his shoulder, fingers looping around him while you hold the picture–or rather a newspaper clipping in front of you two. 

“I saved it for memories...(Y/n) I have something to tell you.” 

Eyes darting towards him, you feel a sense of dread start to eat you slowly up from your feet at the way that they go numb. “Sure. Go ahead.” Perhaps he didn’t expect your consent soon enough or he was lost in his own brain once again, but his ears turned red.  

“My dad booked the tickets, I’m leaving next month, exactly on this date.” 

You don’t say anything.  

“But if my admission letter comes in, then I’ll probably have more time here with you.” He reasons, but he doesn’t sound hopeful, not when you refuse to look at him, but instead stare intently at the tiny faces peering back at you two, hair strewn across your faces, clothes wet. Not much older than ten or eleven. 

After hearing the unbearable silence, you choose to comment. “We look so young.”  

He softly rumbles, “We do, don’t we.”  

“We should go back.” You close your eyes against the metal poles that cut into your head,  

“Yeah. Just for a moment.” 

“Come on (Y/n)! Don’t be a wuss!”  

“I’m not a wuss!” You yell, but you don’t feel so confident in yourself, waves of anxiety rolling through your veins as the water below turns into a whirlpool of dizziness, closing in on itself. The sun burns through your skin and the jagged rocks underneath your bare feet makes you reel with discomfort.

You weren’t meant to discover this spot, nor were children even allowed near it, but a group of friends you desperately wanted to fit in with had cut through the thick woods and found this beauty of a sight. 

And so, they were making you jump off the ledge of a very steep cliff, that for sure held fatal boulders that would for sure, rip you in half the moment that you made contact with them. Not that they carried though–the group at least. They whooped and whistled at each passing step you took, mocking the way that you shivered, contradicting the very hot summer heat.

“Guys I don’t think this is a very good idea.” A small voice cuts through the tension as one of the girls, Wonyoung, steps up before she’s shot down with menacing glares. “Do you want to go up with her too?”  

It’s sick at the way that the group coos at her, but they don’t have to do much to intimidate her because with a shake of her head, she backs away and gives you a sympathetic smile. You huff softly as you kick at the ground, you should really learn how to stand up for yourself.

“What are you waiting for? Jump!” You’ve dazed too long into space to notice how much closer they’ve gotten to you, too close for you to turn back. “I’m not goi–” 

Everyone freezes at the sounds of laughter that echo from the trees, breath stilling in their throats, and you take it as a chance to take a few steps away from the edge, but you’re quickly stopped when one of them harshly grabs your arm, twisting it. “You like Taehyun, don’t you?” 

Taehyun? Looking back at the group of kids that also stumble around at the crumbling ground below them, one voice sticks out to you out of the five boys that made their appearance.

Black hair that flopped around and glasses that were pulled down to the very tip of his nose, without no doubt that was Taehyun and his friends. He wasn’t the first one to be aware of you yet–first, it was Beomgyu who waved at you excitedly, which set out a ripple effect.  

Greeting them back nervously, your feet slide as the girl grins back at you again, a vicious smile that seemed to pierce.  

“You're going to jump, or I’ll make Taehyun take your place instead.” You were bewildered at the way that she said it so assuredly. “No, he won’t. He’s not stupid.” You snort, trying to push her away.  

“You don’t know that? One of the boys could accidentally push him in. In fact, isn’t Mark friends with him? Aw is poor (Y/n) going to let her friend take the fall for her.” 

You shake your head as tears spring into your eyes, and she finally lets you go so you can spin around and face the sky itself before it dips down into the deep blue.

Your limbs are like jelly, and you almost pass out, but you still hold your ground. By now the group behind, softly chants its words of encouragement and your toes are just over the cliff, but you can’t let Taehyun jump in, he could barely even swim, nevertheless seeing him on the rocks below would just be horrible! 

“You’re almost there (Y/n).” She gives you a little nudge, chuckling at the way you try to grasp onto the air for support for the one last time.  

Though she’s right, you’re right there...and so you tuck your head and close your eyes, so you won’t see your blood once they contacted with whatever had in store for you. 

And you jump.  

One word from you and I would   Jump off of this   Ledge I'm on   Baby 

“What was that?” Huening Kai asks, perking up at the loud splash that the others definitely had heard too, from the way that their eyes curiously scan the area. “I don’t know–did someone fall in?” Soobin gasps, getting up and watching the group of kids, huddle around near the tip of a rock face, dangerously close with camera out.

“Should we go? Isn’t (Y/n) there?” Taehyun swerves his head up and nods, dragging the rest of the group to march with him as he searches for your features among the sea of people, just along the steep hill, that looked as if any more weight was to be added, then it would break off right under their feet. 

But when he doesn’t find you, his nerves electrify, and his hands without even knowing tug one of the members (Beomgyu) by their sleeve, footsteps heavy.  

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He says, loudly, pushing past people to get to the very edge where a girl stands, obnoxious sounds of pictures going off, which forces him to gently tug her backward, asking with a nervous fervor where you were.  

And when her eyes go blank and looks over to the side, he knows what had happened. “What the hell is wrong with you? Soobin call the ambulance!” Yeonjun who comprehends the gravity of the situation, responds quicker and already has 119 pulled up on his phone, eyes widened while the others join him, providing needed answers.

At the word of the police dropping by, the group disperses quickly, but Taehyun doesn’t let the girl go, pushing her towards one of his friends in the hopes that they wouldn’t let her slip out of their arms. 

His hands ruffle through his hair, try to think logically but when he doesn’t see any sign of you, all of his rational reasoning gets thrown out of the window. So, he leaps.  

Taehyun didn’t have the chance to hear his friend’s muffled words, but he could guess what they were saying, by the way that they screamed at him. The cold water overloads his senses, driving him out of control as the sharp edges of rock cut at his skin, drawing unknown amounts of blood.

His legs are stiff as he tries to reach back up for the surface, fingers barely even disturbing the top before they drop back to his side. Where were you? Opening his eyes, trying not to pass out from the intense stinging, he finds nothing but pure darkness with a few pieces of algae floating around.  

His brain is muddled, and he can’t swim upwards, or even kick when his limbs have suddenly gained at least more than his weight, dragging him down. His nose scrunches at the lack of oxygen, hands slowly starting to stop flailing. Taehyun was starting to get tired... 

Only for the sunlight to burn his eyes, the blue sky just overhead instead of the water bubbles that escaped his mouth. He chokes ferociously, but the warm pair of hands wrapped around him keeps his body grounded.  

“Are you crazy?”  

Taehyun softly smiles at the words, now able to tread water but you still don’t let go of his shoulders, wet hair sticking to your face making you look slightly crazed, but you still look stunning in his eyes. “You’re okay,” He weakly groans, when his wounds on his legs blaze with fire.

“Of course, I’m okay! Are you okay? Jesus! Why would you do that?” He shrugs and observes the large cut across your cheek, raw and red with a layer of skin peeking underneath. Taehyun’s fingers slowly move to your cheeks, heart full at the way that you don’t flinch against his salty touch, staring at him intently. 

“I’m okay...the boys are calling the ambulance, and if they ask, say that she pushed you in.” He doesn’t leave any room for comments, pulling you close against him. You breathe heavily at his affection, a big smile that sent sparks through your spine.  

“And do you remember when the police came in and they like started had to tackle down Yeji because she tried to run away from them!” You laugh, clutching your stomach, beach chairs pulled up at the edge of a very ‘homely’ cliff. 

“I do! And then we still got grounded like forever, even though we didn’t even do anything.” You wince, you remember how bad the isolation was, stuck in your room only able to use made-sign language to talk to him through your bedroom window.   

The chair beside you, groans as Taehyun pulls himself off from it, stretching as the early sun wisps around his body, eyes fluttering close against the fresh air. You watch him from behind, smile growing at how captivating he was, with the golden rays showcasing him like an angel. Turning around to face you, he holds out your arm to take and you giggle at the way that he pulls you into his chest. He’s warm.  

Feet bare without any shoes, you both track your way to the edge once again, feeling deja vu at the way that your heart starts racing, but you’re not sure if it’s because of how ethereal Taehyun looks next to you or...the rushing water below.

You’ve both grown, so there wasn’t really a chance of drowning as your feet both grazed against the sandy floor, just enough to have your head bobbing over the surface, and rocks below were excavated away after your incident, but you tiedy to immerse yourself in the feelings of first love–with him by your side.  

You both now look at the water below and agree to swim back to the sand shore, where you get a hit of nostalgia after you two were rescued, your town’s news reporters stand there with bated breaths and Taehyun has to roughly push past them as he covered you in his wet shirt. Looking at him, you already find him staring at him with gentle eyes that hold so much emotion you feel like you were already tangled sunk deep in the warm sea.  

Jerking your head away so he couldn’t see your red blush, you sigh and decide to tell him something you haven’t told him before–though you know he’s suspected it before. “I jumped in because Yeji kept telling me that she would push you instead, so imagine my surprise, when I see you in the water with me.” You pause to catch his lips. “I would do anything for you.”  

He grins, and grips your hips, nuzzling into your head and gosh he really reminded you of his cat. “I know you would...me too. I would do anything for you too.” 

Your head spins at his words and you pretend that both of you could actually do everything and anything for each other. You wish that he could tell you not to come with him, willingly so you could heed his wishes with a tail tucked behind your back. That you wouldn’t have to feel so much sorrow because you didn’t want to leave and explore the world.  

Tell me "don't"   So I can   Crawl back in 

Taehyun clutches your hand tightly. 

And you both jump. 

You don’t actually smoke a cig as much as you used to. Cigarette sales for you were during freshman and sophomore years of high school when you would hide underneath the school bleachers, perhaps it was stress, or maybe because all the older high schoolers found themselves with you and Taehyun rather than in their own classroom because they claimed that you two were rather cooler than the other freshies.

And a group activity turned into two, because the others would have graduated a year later, you two had found comfort in heavy soju that sent you into a spiral.

But it was never too much that you had let your grades drop, no Taehyun would ever allow that. So, it wasn’t too bad and you two had limited yourself more and more as you both got older, only a few smokes every few months until you completely stopped. 

You’ve never liked the smell that it left or the smoky haze, but it still felt nice to feel a little more grown-up, just a bit cooler than you literally were. You wish you were young again though. 

And I was so young   When I behaved   Twenty five 

You’re both under the science hallway stairs this time because the bleachers were closely monitored after someone was caught making out, but if you close your eyes, you can feel the tense atmosphere of the whines of your school’s ever losing football team.

Taehyun has his phone out, trying to blink through the reeking vapor. You're both trying to calculate how many days he has until he must leave, how many more opportunities you both have to recreate as many old photos as you both can to put in the scrapbook.

You two have already dressed in tight clothing and have posed shamelessly, climbed to the top of the town’s playground, screaming at the top of your lungs, redoing his first proposal to you, except this time during prom, where he stole the mic again and much more which included Soobin taking a picture of you two dripping wet from last’s adventure–which was a while ago. 

Finals had come up, and you two were stuck studying until you passed out. 

You and Taehyun passed with flying colors–thank god. 

“We have fifteen more days” You croak, finger sliding against his screen. That was a day over two weeks and grad was just in another seven days. “You’re right, time’s been flying fast.” You nod, “Way too fast.”  

“We should figure out a way to stop time. Or maybe a time machine.” He says, pulling out his camera. You both get in position, just as in the old picture near your Converse, mouths tugged in the same way, both looking at each other raising finger guns near your faces.  

This photograph was probably your favorite one. 

“(Y/n) would you be a sweetheart and go get the mail?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you get up from Taehyun’s bed and stalk to the top of the stairs to see Taehyun’s mom, holding a pair of keys with a soft smile that looks extremely like your boyfriend’s.

“Of course, I was waiting for Taehyun anyway, he’s taking a shower right now!” Your steps thud against each step, and with a childish grin, you grab the keys from her hand and skip out of the door. It was a very nice day today, and you suppose the grass is greener than ever and the birds are chirping as loud as they can be.

A few neighbors are mowing their lawns, waving hello when you walk past them, your own father rolling his eyes when you laugh at him. The mailbox isn’t far, and it doesn’t take you too long for you to insert the key, pulling the little door open to find a bunch of letters and a small package that was able to squeeze past the small space.

Fingers cramming underneath the stack of white paper, you manage to pull everything out in one go, just a few falling out from your grasp, clicking your tongue when they touch the concrete below. You bend your knees to grab one. 

“No fucking way.”  

Now all the letters are on the ground.  

Because you’ve let them go from the shock of seeing Taehyun’s name printed on the backside with San Fransisco, just right below it–Taehyun had gotten accepted.  

Your arms don’t feel attached when you robotically pick everything up, Taehyun’s acceptance letter shaking in your hands. Flipping the envelope around, your fingers itch to open it but you quickly tuck it under your arm and walk back to Taehyun’s house in a much duller mood. 

You suppose that you’re happy, Taehyun gets to spend more time with you, and he’ll be able to stay longer in this small town. But it still stabs you inside–he’s leaving in any situation, and you can’t do anything about it.

When you get back to his house, you let yourself in through the cracked door and meet his parents by the dining table, placing all but one of the mail down on the countertop, mouth cracking open as you hold his acceptance letter up. 

“Taehyun got mail back from California!”  

“Seriously?”  

“What.”  

Two voices overlap with each other, one a little more joyous and higher his mother and father rising from their seat in surprise. The other was weak with a tone you couldn’t exactly recognize. Facing the boy behind you, your hands deliver the letter to him, a smile disappearing at the way that he trembles.

“Tae go ahead and open it, oh god we’re so proud of you.” His mother pinches his cheeks, and his father pats him on his back, but he doesn’t react to any of it, just staring at you instead.  

Something’s wrong and you know it.  

“Mrs. Kang, did you guys not check the mailbox recently? They usually send acceptance letters quite earlier than now.” You make talk as Taehyun slowly rips open the letter, popping off easily so he can slide his fingers to pull out the paper. “We did...I made Taehyun go down, just a week ago...and you said that you didn’t find anything right, honey?” 

“Mhm.” 

Looking up at Taehyun, he avoids your eye, reading the paper out loud, for everyone to read, voice shaking in his throat. But he’s unable to make it through the first few lines, when his dad who was eager enough to read faster than Taehyun’s unbearably slow pace, points out probably the biggest heartbreak of your life.  

“Taehyun! They’re letting you fly out to them, early!” 

Eyes shooting towards Taehyun’s you’re surprised to see them well up with tears, looking down at his feet as he nods. His mother tugging the paper out from his arms, confirms it with great excitement that you couldn’t reciprocate, hugging her son tightly against her, smothering him with kisses.  

Taehyun’s face held something close to when he was caught stealing candy when he was younger...he’d known all about the acceptance letter and that he was going to leave you early, not the opposite that he had promised.  

Yet now I find   I've grown into   A tall child 

Taking a step back with anger, you want to throw a tantrum, you want to rip the letter in half like a child. You want to cry and whine while holding onto your mom, telling her to make it stop, to not let him go. You greatly wished to clutch onto his leg like a petulant toddler.  

But you don’t. Instead, you ask, “When does he have to...go?” Your voice is weak, but the parents don’t take notice and reply with a merry “May sixteenth.” The day after graduation. Taehyun’s hand reaches out to you, but you gently swat it away and tap on his mother’s shoulder with a smile that blubbered when it spoke. “My father had just texted me; I have to go home.”  

Mouth twisting at your abruptness, she nods, “All right then! Tell your parents not to make dinner, we’re going to celebrate tonight!” You agree to mention it to them, but you’re not sure you want to see Taehyun that night, so you quickly walk to the front door, saying goodbye. 

You’re furious, and you bet that if anyone looked outside their window, they would’ve asked who that big baby is that’s stomping wildly across the road, not looking both sides to realize that there was a car that doesn’t even dare to beep. 

“Watch out!”  

Your body spins around, as your skirt hits the bumper of the car, but you're safely in the hands of your lying boyfriend, eyes big as saucers when he looks down at you. “(Y/n) how many times did I tell you to check the road before crossing the street!”  

“Yet you couldn’t tell me that you were going to leave early!?” You pull away from him and keep on marching down the road, aware of the way that Taehyun follows your footsteps, keeping close by. “I’m so sorry (Y/n), I just didn’t know how to tell you!” 

“Oh, fuck off, Taehyun!” 

A mother cups the ears of her young son’s ears, sending you two a glare that you couldn’t care about. “(Y/n) Come on, please! Listen to me!” He cries, running ahead to stop you from your tracks, taking in all the kicks that you throw at him, angrily giving up when he scrunches his nose too hard at a very strong particular punch to his stomach.  

“Were you going to leave me without telling me?” 

He huffs, trying to regain his breath but he shakes his head. “No, of course not, I–” 

“Then why didn’t you tell me when you actually found out. Do you think that I was going to care? You’re me leaving anyways!” You’re harsh with your words and he winces. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t mea–” 

“No, it’s alright.” He hangs his head shamefully, and he shakily sobs when you come closer. “I couldn’t come to terms with it. I didn’t want to leave you sooner, I just wanted to pretend that you were going to be with me forever, even though...”  

“You should stay, but you can’t” You wipe the tears from his face, and you find it ironic that this time, you’re in his place, comforting him. “I’m sorry.”  

“It’s alright, I could never be too mad at you for a long time. You’re probably going to come visit us anyway, so I don’t know why I blew it out of proportion.”  

The look he sends you churns your stomach a little, but he pushes you along to your house, smiling through the crack of the door before you close it on him. 

“Get pretty for me, baby.” 

When it comes to the time for the dinner party that his parents both hosted for him, you two locked yourself in his room that night, admiring the way that the other looked for the last few times. 

Graduation had come fast as you and all your other friends and your boyfriend sat at a round table, all wearing the same attire. You’ve come to enjoy the lovely atmosphere and the beautiful memories, you’d shared with each other, which you’re now using against them in a game of “Who’s going to cry first.”  

Jay and Gaeul were currently sobbing against each other, Sunghoon was holding a staring contest with a tree, Ningning was cursing as her tears fell, trying to gaslight the others that she wasn’t actually crying...and everyone else was doing something somewhere in the middle.

You, Huening, and Taehyun laugh, teasing the people that you’ve grown up with, holding a bittersweet heart that wishes to never stop beating for them.  

“Alright, shall we start our ceremony then? Please welcome the graduates of 20XX!”  

One by one, everyone leaves to get their diploma that many have shed tears into, cheering as they run to their family waiting for them in the crowd. You watch with big eyes and chuckle when Jake manages to trip over the steps and flip his econ teacher off, drumming your fingers on your table, patiently sitting to be called, exchanging looks with your boyfriend. 

“Kang Taehyun!” 

You yell loudly as the boy next to you shushes you when he gets up, but his face is flushed with happiness when he walks across the stage, and you’re unable to tear your eyes from him–he’s quite mesmerizing, to say the least.  

And when it comes time for you to walk, he swears that you look like an angel that has graced everyone with your presence, but Jake gags and pushes him away to hug you, congratulating you. You’re severely happy and your cheeks hurt, from the amount of smiling that you’ve done in the past few hours.

A hand creeps up to your shoulder, and suddenly there are a bunch of carnations sitting in your hand, feeling shy when Gaeul points it out and starts teasing you and your boyfriend for being sappy.  

And I don't wanna go home yet   Let me walk to the top of the big night sky 

You don’t want this day to end, you want to stay young forever you think. But you managed to capture the feelings with a click of a camera, tugging Taehyun to kiss, when the flash goes off and everyone screams “cheese”. 

Please hurry leave me   I can't breathe 

The open window didn’t help your lungs, as it struggled to take in air, heartbeat shattering against its cavity in a tremendous matter. Next to you sits Kang Taehyun in his glory, using the scenery as an excuse to look at you. It was midday but the roads weren’t littered with cars, leaving a clear path for the Kang’s family car to roll down easily. The radio chattered with nonsense, but it was turned down over an important conversation Taehyun and his mother were having.  

“Please be careful when you get there!”  

He scoffs and crosses his arms, “I feel like you’ve told me that over a hundred times. I promise I’ll be safe!” Flinching, when you smack him over the head, telling his mom that he was being incredibly rude and that he should apologize to her–just to make him a little annoyed for your fun. “Oh, I can’t believe how grown up you two are. I just remember when the both of you were able to fit in the palms of our hands.”

That cues Mrs. Kang's emotional tears and her rambles about life, comforted by her husband and the silent chuckles that you leave behind your hands. But you understand how she feels, heart aching and eyes bloodshot even after the relentless sobbing you did last night with Taehyun, lying down in his flower garden. You two were able to finally talk about...what you guys were going to have to be. He said

“Long distance, lovers” had a nice ring, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth. And after much back and forth over what title to pick, you decided that a label wasn’t needed if you knew the other with magnificent love. 

You wonder what the boy next to you feels–but you don’t really want to face him yet. 

“Taehyun you’re sure, you’ve got everything, from here on we can’t do anything else if you’ve forgotten anything.” His father reminds him as he rolls into the airport parking lot, sighing deeply when he finds you two in awe of the airplanes that fly out, disappearing into the blue sky in mere seconds.

“I’m sure. I made (Y/n) and Mom check it for me too.” He then gets out of the car and helps his dad unpack two large suitcases that he was able to shove his whole life into, clenching his fists when the trunk of the car closes right behind him.  

He lets his father carry his suitcase so he can hold you flush against him, smiling blindingly with eyes that get bigger at the glass elevator and even larger at the great doors that lead him inside to where he could check himself in.  

“Shit this is huge...” You murmur up to him, clutching the back of his leather jacket, when the cool rush of air filters in once the sliding doors open. His parents are just right behind, watching you two with their own feelings of sadness, smiles unable to reach their eyes when you kiss his knuckles softly as you two walk up to the counter.   

“One ticket for Kang Taehyun!” The elderly woman handed him the paper slip, before telling him to hurry it down to get through security check-in because his flight was going to leave soon. Gulping at the ticket in his hand, you find that you suddenly have a distaste for these particular passes.

You’re not sure what’s worse right now, either that time was going too slow because you don’t know how long your feet are going to give up under you, watching him leave or... 

Time going too slow was the worst. 

You wish that you could hold him back, but your heart seems to beat erratically, too hard for you to even understand as the approaching gates of the security check-in come into place, families and friends saying goodbyes to their loved ones just beyond a glass window.

The whirling crowd of people seems to disappear as you set your sights on your boyfriend, giving his hand a tight squeeze when you feel the tears start to drown your waterline, blinking them away when the threaten to spill over. 

He doesn’t say anything, but squeeze your hand two times more, putting every ounce of his comfort in the gesture. 

“Oh, Taehyunnie!” His mom throws herself in his arms, finally indulging in her distress, and you feel like you're watching a drama where she rubs his cheeks and holds him close while he rejects his affections with a red face.

You decide to stay back and let them have their family time, watching them wistfully when Taehyun also starts to tear up, nose beginning to twitch. He whispers sweet words of affirmation which they nod to and at last back up, beckoning you to come closer. 

Mrs. Kang stares at her husband before she awkwardly coughs, wiping away her fallen tears. “Dear, we should go get some chocolate from the vending machine, I’m just a bit hungry.” And as he opens his mouth to object, she drags him away, winking in your direction, making you and your boyfriend laugh quietly, turning to each other when it gets too hard to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach. 

“You better have fun.” You smile, dusting down his shirt, looking him straight in the eye when he nods slowly. “It won’t be the same, without you being by my side...” He starts to choke and stops your fiddling by tugging your arms over his shoulder, pulling you close while he buries his head in the nape of your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your jaw.

You choose not to say anything, just wanting to relish in this tender moment, your lips pressing gently to his temple, closing your eyes when he hugs you tighter.  

Breaking apart, he quickly looks at his watch, and kisses you ever so softly, so warmly that his lips melt into yours, his grip on your clawing into your skin, penetrating the deeper levels, just past your nerves that jumble nervously.

“I’m going to miss you a lot.” You think you’ve spent all your tears already, for you don’t cry and Taehyun seems to have the will in him to suck it up, but there’s those lingering sobs that echo in your hearts and ring in your ears, a connection that you both shared. “I promise to call you every day, actually scrap that–facetime you every day and–” 

He yelps when your palm covers his mouth, taking it away when he stops his rambling, staring at you with curious eyes. “You don’t have to do all of that. Just promise me that you’ll visit me again, in our town. I don’t care how much ever it’s going to take you, but please... see me once more. Promise me that.” Your pinky shakes as it raises, holding it towards his heart.  

“I–okay. I promise you, sweetheart.”  

Taehyun is sincere and it breaks your heart a little. Pulling his finger apart from you, his lips find your forehead, attached to your hairline for quite some time before he’s being forced to pull apart, when his father taps on his shoulder, cocking his head towards the growing line. You swallow deeply and hesitantly let go of his t-shirt, letting it drag through the tips of your fingers.  

Taehyun exhales and sends you a watery chuckle, “I love–” 

But it hurts, so you shut him up with a swift kiss to his lips, just once more. “Me too. Have a safe flight.” And then you weakly push him, quivering when his parents hug you.  

Please don't say you love me   胸がはち切れそうで  

You think you're going insane, chasing Taehyun through the glass panels, his parents just behind you while you slide your palms over the cloudy barrier, mimicking Taehyun who just does the same, walking at a fast pace. Until... 

He’s gone. 

Nights you’ve spent awake, you’ve imagined yourself crumbling onto the ground, crying your heart out, but you don’t. You find yourself turning back and following his melancholic parents back to the car, where they’ll drop you at your house, and perhaps, you’ll cry then. 

Months go by and you’re still waiting for a call from Taehyun, the time is a little bit over four in the morning, but you think that another day is about to go amiss. He’s gotten a little busier lately, but you suppose that you would do anything for him, even if it meant waking up at ungodly times so he could call you, patiently sitting in your bed for a response that would never come. 

 

One word from you and I would   Jump off of this   Ledge I'm on   Baby 

You know that you told him not to worry about keeping up with you every day, that it was unnecessary, but you feel a certain amount of soreness in your muscles and in your bones.

The line rings for a while before it turns silent again and your heart burns, but you put it aside and instead decide to climb out of your window to watch the moon. The times that he’d called you, he seemed joyous and jubilant, with a bright smile that outshone the sun and the galaxies of burning stars. You think that’s he happier there, but that’s okay.

Everything is okay. 

Though you wish that he faked his gleeful smiles, telling you “no” that the States sucked and the friends he’d made on the way could never compare with this small town. Just so you can, feel pitiful for him, for yourself, and all the stars that miss him on your rooftop. But you know that he’s ashamed. 

Tell me "don't"   So I can   Crawl back in  

As long as he came back to you. 

One word from you and I would    Jump off of this    Ledge I'm on    Baby   

This is the second wedding you’ve been to, in a span of a few months. And it’s the first one that’s taken you out of the little town and out into the world.  

Taehyun hadn’t kept your promise.   

You blankly stare back at the wedding invitation in your hands, eyes furiously reading it over and over again, because there was no way that was real. Taehyun wasn’t getting married–who were you kidding? Taehyun wasn’t getting married, no not after just six years...that would be crazy. Extremely insane.  

So why hasn’t he visited you so far? So why were you crying? You’re not sure, but your heart aches as you drag your eyes to the woman who is his fiancé. She’s pretty, but you’re sure that she could never compare with you, not eight years of love, since fucking fourth grade. Since that Valentine’s Day dance.   

Taehyun’s wedding is going to be February thirteenth, just a day before your anniversary where you spend your day in your room crying over missed love.   

You don’t know if you want to go anymore or not, or to even forgive him.   

So I can    Crawl back in  

You wish that he hadn’t sent you this, so you could forever live in the shadows of your delusions that he would come back for you. But you would do anything for him. Even if he asked you to relive the heartbreak of your first love, once more.  

#txt x reader #taehyun x reader #k-labels #txt ff #txt #txt post #tubatu #kang taehyun #tomorrow x tomorrow #tomorrow by together imagine #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #taehyun #txt taehyun #kpop x reader #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #kpop #mitski my beloved

[beastbarked]

i'm going to LOSE my mind because i kin a character from a piece of media that's super dead and there's no good fan content for it

#woe. angst. anguish #fictionkin

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past. 

Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.  

It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.

One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time. 

Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend. 

And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception. 

“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”

“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.” 

She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm. 

“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?” 

“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”

“Right, what is there to even look out for?” 

“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”

“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”

“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”

“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?” 

She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”

“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”

“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.” 

“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”

Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor. 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future. 

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about. 

People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you. 

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late. 

The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.  

So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…

...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.

Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own. 

A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic. 

After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends. 

Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.” 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts. 

Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past. 

It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made. 

Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years. 

❀ ❀ ❀

“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.” 

Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”

You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?” 

“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”

“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”

“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”

“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!” 

“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”

Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.  

Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?” 

“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!” 

“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”

Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth. 

You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…

...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.

“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!” 

“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”

“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”

“—almost perfect.”

You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor? 

All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically. 

Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes. 

Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul. 

This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends? 

Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?

“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?” 

“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?” 

“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”

“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”

“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”

“—ew!”

The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on. 

“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?” 

“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”

“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!” 

Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!” 

“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”

“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.” 

“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”

“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!” 

“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.” 

Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

#bts scenarios #jin scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jin angst #jin fluff #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #jin x y/n #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #bts au #bts imagines #jin imagines #seokjin scenarios #bts fic #seokjin fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #bts oneshot #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fluff #bangtan angst #bangtan jin

[mercurial-madhouse]

To every 1D fanfiction author, whether you’ve been here for years or been here for months, whether you have one or one hundred published fics, whether you have a single special kudos or hundreds of thousands of kudos, I am begging you,

Please, please don’t let anything dim your light. Don’t let any post or any person throw water over the fire-magic and burning brilliance of your incredible creations.

This fandom is so lucky to have your canon-divergent comedy and your alternate-universe tragedy, your epic romances and soul-searing heartbreaks, your wild werewolf angst and your pining college fluff, the coffee-shop disasters and post-apocalyptic perfections, the break-ups, the make-ups, the love and the loss, the joy and the terror, the hope, the glory, the disappointment and the fulfillment.

The untamed and unrestrained cosmos of your mind that you are brave enough and kind enough to share with us is the purest and highest of gifts.

We are so lucky that this fandom has so many amazing and incredible and brilliant authors like you. Your work is exactly what this fandom wants and needs.

Sometimes we crave the crystal waters of a mermaid lagoon or the real-life normalcy of blue-collar love stories. Sometimes we want to be dragged relentlessly through the mud in the darkest of angst when there seems to be no hope only to be set back on our feet and cradled by the comfort that comes after so much hurt. Sometimes we are so fragile that all we can do is curl into a cotton-candy cloud immersed in the most heartwarming of fluff.

Sometimes we need to be triggered because the only way to heal our own inner anguish is to rip the plaster off and dig down deep, cleanse it out and stitch the wound closed so that it turns into the most beautiful of scars.

You give us that. Your words, your creativity, your passion. All these horrific and euphoric emotions that you translate into the written word are exactly what we need.

Your words, the care and attention and passion and hard work you put into your tales of wonder and woe, bring so much joy and excitement, catharsis and healing, escape and love to so many people.

Your stories are loved, they are cherished, they are needed. That unfinished gem you have sitting in a folder on your computer? It is someone’s next favorite story that they don’t know they need yet.

Yes this community has fanfic gatekeepers, but whether you have mixed together the perfect concoction of longevity, divine timing, perseverance, and talent to become a well-known name or whether you’re still struggling to get that potion to finally bubble bubble burst, just remember that none of us in this fandom got to wherever we are now without help and support.

I support you. I am so grateful for your patience and dedication and bravery. I see you and I acknowledge every ounce of courage it takes for you to write and to share your words. I will go to the ends of the earth and personally draw you back from throwing your fics over the edge and into the abyss. If you need it, send me a message or an ask and I will hold your hand and stand beside you every step through the dark.

Can you imagine a world where the twenty-six thousand completed fics in the Larry sub-genre alone were narrowed down to just 10? 20? Even 500? Can you imagine if the world only had fifteen 1D songs? Louis once mentioned he’s written over 100 non-1D songs, yet we’ve only heard sixteen. Does that mean he should stop? Or that the seventeenth song isn’t good enough? We don’t play them simply because we don’t have them. And no one can read the story that you don’t write.

No single one of us can fulfill everything this fandom wants and needs and loves. Never underestimate or underrate just how important your creations are to this community. Only you can bring your special brand of humour and angst and imagination to the table. Only you can write the characters the way you do. Only you can tell that golden nugget of a tale hiding out in your mind. Make the lads we love reading about proud. Keep on championing the unrestricted love and creativity and soul power they stand for and that make this community so incredibly special.

So go listen to Don’t Let It Break Your Heart and Drag Me Down and Through the Dark and Fireproof on repeat. Buckle back up, love. Crack those knuckles and show us what you’re made of. We’re all waiting for you.

I am a single voice in an ocean of voices, but sometimes one voice is all it takes. Please spread the joy, share the love, support one another, reblog this and send this to others so that it reaches every corner of the fandom. 2020 has been one hell of a ride but it’s up to us whether we make it an earthquake or a rollercoaster.

#1dsource #hljournal #hlcreators #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #writing inspiration #fanfiction advice #spread the joy #share the love #share your work #please don’t forget #please share

[adamfoolcry]

i hate you, i love you (k.dy)

it's valentine's day and you try your hardest not to fall back in the arms of one kim doyoung - your former boss, recluse and closed off, your fuck buddy - whom you are completely in love with.

pairings: CEO!Doyoung x Fem!Reader, Johnny x Fem!Reader rating: 18+   genre: angst and smut  warnings: swearing, explicit sexual situations - hate sex, dirty talk wc: 3k+ prompt: 'i hate you' 

a/n: This is a part of Candy Hearts Collab hosted by @127-mile . Text in blockquote are text messages.Thank you for beta reading simmi(@sly-merlin ) and indi(@ncteaxhoe​). Not proofread excuse the mistakes please contact me if you would like to do so. Enjoy! - xo aria

Doyoung:

I don't know if you'll even read this but if you do, I want you to know that what we have for two years was not a game for me. Maybe we can't start being honest with each other. When you make up your mind you know where to reach me.

Mina really knows how to dress you up to the nines, you'll give her that.

"It's not bad," you nod at your reflection approvingly as you examine the dress you wrestled yourself in, clinging to your body in the right places effectively enhancing your silhouette. The soft silky texture of satin feels exquisite against your skin however you can’t exude the confidence the dress might have channeled you with. You don’t feel grand in fact you feel the opposite;

You want to cancel the date.

"Oh for christ's sake, ______. Maybe try to put some enthusiasm into this," Mina spun you around to face her, your back to the whole body mirror where a while ago you two were examining the outfit she picked up from the back of your closet - where dressier clothing of yours reside not seeing the light of the day unless for special occasions. 

Placing both her hands on your shoulders, "You were so excited when you called me to pick something to wear. What happened?" She further inquired.

You heave a sigh, "I don't know I am just not in a mood to go out on a date with a stranger," you admitted.

Mina pulls your eyes back to hers, gleaming with determination. "You are ______, an economics major who graduated on top of her class, who landed a new job as a senior financial analyst despite being in the industry for only three years. Now repeat it," Mina orders you.

"What does it have to do with -" you rolled your eyes, and whined dramatically.

She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth in displeasure, "Go on say it"

"I am ______, graduated on the top of my class and landed a new position as a senior financial analyst despite my tenurity," you mumble in a low voice.

"Good," Mina coddled you as if you are an infant who uttered her first word, "now add I am young, smart, and men want me."

You open your mouth to protest but Mina only pinned you with a hard look and you know you will not be getting out of this until you do as she says.

"I am young, smart, and men want me." You did as she told you.

Begrudgingly you did feel a lot better.

This is the third step of banishing Kim Doyoung in your life entirely. 

First is to send a resignation letter - done. 

Second, secure a new employment - done.

Third is to pursue a romantic relationship.

"Now let's get you ready for your date." Mina pulled you to the present, squeezing your bare shoulders to comfort you.

"I know that what you did is really hard. The sudden big change and all but today's Valentine's day you need to have a little fun today."

"I know Mina, now do my makeup." You pulled her to where your vanity table is located as you paste a smile on your face in order to placate her worries.

--------

If people were to know why you are doing this they might have called you silly.

After graduating from university you were offered the position of financial analyst in his company - a small but budding start up in Tech. Never would you have expected to land a job in your chosen field straight out of college. You are doing what you have envisioned yourself doing: analysing the trends and forecasting sales of the company's cloud solutions. You are comfortable with your current living situation, not what you have imagined after your parents cut you off no longer sending you an allowance. You thought you'd be working your ass off to make ends meet. Thankfully, the pay was high enough for you to live in an apartment in the city, pay your bills in time, and afford luxuries you knew that most people your age wouldn't have the money for. 

Everything seems perfect right? A job that you genuinely love, good pay, living in the heart of the city but of course you just have to develop feelings for your boss: Kim Doyoung. And that complicates everything; enough for you to decide to completely start over again.

Kim Doyoung has managed to worm into every nook and cranny of your life.

Kim Doyoung is a magnetic man, of few words, stern straight brows, and wide shoulders swaddled in elegant suits. He runs the company based on data-driven decisions unafraid of taking risks that produces the highest profitable outcome. Working at his company where all ten workers directly reports and closely works with him, you and your colleagues have developed quite a personal relationship with him. It was not conventional per se but you guess this is how all start-ups operate with a slightly different work culture. Unlike big corporations there is no bureaucracy, filling for leaves can just be a phone call or a visit to his office.

As his only financial analyst almost never leaving his side. You'd like to think that Doyoung might have developed a soft spot for you, maybe not in a romantic sense but in a platonic friendly way. He values your opinion enough that he asks for your input in any pivotal decisions either in work or his personal life. Whether to facilitate the migration to cloud as external contractors of big corporations or to oversee the renovation of his penthouse. And in small things too honestly, after all he asked for your help to decide whether the decor should be a Bohemian vibe or modern minimalistic black and grey.

That was until you fucked after the in-office celebration of closing a big contract. One moment he is talking about the vase that serves as a centerpiece of his dining table that you helped him pick, the next he was pulling your arm leading you to a dimly lit room. 

Yes, you did drink but you were sober enough to protest if you didn't want it; who are you kidding? Of course you wanted it to happen. Not one word of objection was uttered as he pinned you to the wall with your legs circling his waist. Instead of protests what left your lips was series of moans and his name in breathless pleas that he had to stuff your mouth with his fingers or else your colleagues will hear the two of you having sex two rooms away from them.

Doyoung slipped out of you stepping back to let you down.Your stilettos made a clicking noise as it came in contact with the tiled floor that echoed in your eardrums; deafening. Coming back down to earth and from your high is also the moment when you realized the mess you put yourself into by fucking Doyoung - your boss - in a storage room.

You righted both your disheveled appearances - to look as normal as possible - in order to go back to the pantry where the celebration was still in full swing. The tense silence that wrapped the atmosphere makes you want to shrivel in shame, both of you were aware of the line that you have crossed. 

The unspoken words were hanging in the air -

It was a mistake. Let's forget this ever happened. - and you refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, the stillness making you uncomfortable by the second.

"_______ -," Doyoung started.

"We don't have to talk about it Doyoung." 

You moved for the door, not looking back to peek at Doyoung's expression. You just wanted to get out of the dusty storage room, the stuffy air and Doyoung's proximity, suffocating you. 

You thought you were smart enough not to make the same mistake again but you seem to have a penchant for getting hurt because you did it again and again every chance you got. When the effects of orgasm are wearing off and you are left naked and vulnerable you always find yourself swearing that it will be the last time but you already knew you were lying.

You just can't get enough of Doyoung even though it hurts to pretend that each encounter was meaningless.

Sleeping with someone where you never knew where you stand at is excruciatingly painful. 

You can't be jealous when you hear about the new girl he's with because you have no right.

It is painful when Doyoung gives you some false hope. Visiting you almost everyday in your small office bearing lunch for the two of you. He often spends half of his day loitering in your space, perching himself on the corner of your desk pushing around the knick knacks around your desk while you are busy with work.

Only to dash it when he tells you about the latest girl he's seeing which would mean your ears would bear the brunt of his relationship woes until it falls apart only for the vicious cycle to repeat again when he found himself in another one of his flings.

Everyday as he asks for relationship advice you feel yourself getting worn out and the green eyed monster roaring it's head, you try your hardest to tamp it down with your rational thinking. 

What hurts the most is he started his series of flings a week after you hooked up, rubbing on your face that it means nothing to him at all.

So after countless hours, days, and months of anguish you started planning your escape.

--------

There are so many thoughts running through your head it starts with: Did I overdress? Is Johnny having a good time? 

Then drifts into completely unrelated manners.

Did I manage to say goodbye to all of my co-workers? Clear out my desk in my office? Surrender my elevator pass to the friendly security guard? Retrieve my favorite mug in the pantry? 

Will everything be ok? Will I excel at my new company? Will I fit in a big corporation?

Will I miss Doyoung?

Am I doing the right thing?

Johnny cleared his throat which broke your reverie, your eyes settling in his face but Johnny seems to find the table napkin worthy of his attention rather than maintaining eye-contact with you.

"I had fun today but I think -," You see Johnny hesitating to continue his sentence, linking and unlinking his fingers instead.

You get it and you can't blame Johnny for his lack of interest. You were barely with him today after the small talk had died down and the two of you had finished your meals. You didn't make an effort to get to know him, the conversation was one sided as you barely threw the questions back at him; replying in terse short sentences as if you would rather be anywhere but having dinner with him.

"Yeah me too but it's really nice to spend Valentine's with you though and getting all dolled up. Makes me forget I am single," You joked and flashed him a smile; relieved, Johnny finally met your eyes as his actions mirror yours curving his lips into a smile.

-------

You hailed a cab for a ride back to your apartment, settling in the backseat you instructed and gave the address to the driver as his radio blasted cheesy romantic songs in your ear, making you feel more disappointed with how bad your date with Johnny went.

As the cab speeds through the city, the citylights intermingle with each other creating a spectrum of colors that bounce back at the cab’s windows, the scenery of skyscrapers blurring past your eyes and your mind returns back to musing which you know is a dangerous territory because somehow your mind always returns back to him.

Doyoung

What exactly did you want to be with Doyoung?

You want him to like you? No, You want to mean something to him, to be the special person he runs to whenever he's devastated, to be the first person he calls when he's completely utterly bursting with joy. You want him to be completely aware of your presence that even just a mere mention of your name will evoke something in him, make his heart beat a little faster and cause some flush to bleed through his cheeks.

You want him to be endeared with your habitual tics - how you drum your fingers in every surface when you are in deep thought, a line maring your forehead between your brows and make his lips itch to kiss it. You want him to be captivated with your idiosyncrasies and find it charming, you want him to adore everything about you that made you, distinctly you.

You want him to want you.

Your phone vibrated and interrupted your stupor and upon seeing Doyoung’s name attached to the notification. Your fingers quickly unlocked your phone, fingers ringing from an adrenaline rush just from the sight of his name.

Doyoung:

Come over?

And just like that you inform your cab driver to make a detour and drive to Doyoung’s instead.

Doyoung opened the gigantic door of his penthouse where he found you on the other side of the door, shifting your weight from foot to foot, nervous to be in the same perimeter as him. When the gap was big enough to see you his eyes roved over to your body and noted that you were dressed up nicely for a date. His eyes then turned into slits as he glared at you.

“Have fun with your date?” He questioned and you can see his jaw set - the muscles clenching tight.

You didn’t answer, you don’t want him to know the pathetic evening you spent with Johnny as your mind drifts to thoughts of him; instead of actively participating with Johnny’s effort of back and forth.

As if knowing that you wouldn’t answer, his arms went to grab your forearms pulling you inside and leading you to the stairs up his loft where his bed is, you followed meekly behind him. Reaching his loft you look around and try to commit to memory the layout of the room; promising yourself that this will be the last time you will set foot in this room.

Doyoung attached his lips to your neck which drew a soft moan from you, spurred by your sounds he continued to ravish your neck oscillating between harshly sucking and peppering soft kisses on the expanse of the skin of your neck. His hands running at your sides smoothly and gradually getting closer to the underside of your breasts with each pass, when he finally cupped your mounds you arch in his palms further pushing yourself closer to him, greedy for his attention from all the teasing that he has done.

When he spoke again it fanned over the nape of your neck making your skin tingle from the warmth, “Why can’t you understand that I am the only one who can make you feel this way.” 

You can smell the residue of whisky on his breath and you wanted to taste it on your tongue even though from all the times you have slept with him you two have never kissed. You have drawn the line there for kissing is much more intimate than slapping bodies againsts each other for satisfaction. Kissing can be done without sexual notions but a simple act between couples and it is a glaring truth that you two were not.

You found yourself naked and sprawled on his queen size bed where you have lain your back many times but never spent a night in. Even the off white color of his ceiling is familiar to you as if mocking you for all the times you said you wouldn’t see it again. As he slips your dress down your body, your eyes water and it pooled in your eyes ready to spill over. ‘This is the last time,’ you tell yourself again, 'this is the last time that I will be Doyoung’s beck and call.' When he was finished trailing his lips down and also discarding his clothes at the other side of the bed you managed to swipe the tears that gathered in your eyes and look at him.

Towering over you he was a sight to behold and you trace the line of his body with your eyes, caressing the dips on his collarbones and the line that leads down to his cock as his face coil into a smirk smug with the knowledge that he can turn you into a whimpering mess.

“What do you want?” He asked while splaying his hands on your stomach, his thumb drawing circles on your clit which made your moans even louder and your pussy clench on nothing. You hate that he was the only one who can make you feel this way, reducing you into a pleading mess as you move your hips to the rhythm that he has set. 

You don’t have to tell him your guttural whines already told him what you wanted and he obliged inserting his length into you slowly, while you gripped his sheets until your knuckles turned white. You loved the way he filled you and the burn that accompanies when he stretched your clamping muscles on him.

So you let all your reasoning go because Doyoung’s cock pumping inside you felt good, too good. 

He knows your body like an instrument, putting the right pressure and hitting the spots that makes you throw your head back repeatedly. You can feel the falter in his quick thrusts and knows that he is near his end. Doyoung makes this one sound at the back of his throat when he orgasms … and you follow suit too as he falls apart.

It took a few seconds for him to untangle his legs and arms from your figure and it took you a couple of minutes of staring at the walls, waiting until you felt your legs can support you before you stood up and searched for your dress and undergarments. You can hear the rustle of the sheets as Doyoung sits on his bed watching your back as you slip on your panties and pull your dress back in its place.

“So tell me why did you leave the company?” Doyoung asked, his voice ringing loudly in your ears.

“I told you already I want to work in a big company,” You try to answer nonchalantly.

“Really? Or does it have something to do with me?

“Oh for fuck’s sake Doyoung. The world doesn’t revolve around you!” You shouted at him as you turned around to face him. Your ire rising as you see the cold stoic look on his face - unaffected by your outburst.

“Then why does it feel like you are running away from me?” He stood up from the bed and warily approached you as if you will lash at him any moment.

“I hate you,” (I love you) you whispered under your breath the words not meant from his ears but he heard it anyway. Disbelief painted his features he cannot grasp the reason why you are suddenly acting like this.

He reached out to touch your arm but you swerved his hand like a hurt animal nursing a wound and Doyoung then noticed your bloodshot eyes and defensive stance.

“Don’t touch me. Whatever destructive thing this is Doyoung, I am done. We’re done,” You stated bluntly your voice devoid of emotions a complete contrast with how you hugged yourself tightly with your arms.

“You don’t mean that,” Doyoung said adamantly as color drained from his face, making his pale complexion - paper white. 

“You can’t just walk away,” He added more to convince himself than you because he can see that hard look in your eyes - already set in the decision of walking away from him.

“Watch me Doyoung,” your lips curved into a cruel bitter smile. 

You leave him with those words as he watches your retreating figure until it completely disappears from his line of vision. 

--------

That night when you received a text from Doyoung, you never bothered to open it, opting to delete it and completely block all communications with him. You need to move on and in order to do it you need to sever all ties that might delude you to come back in his arms again.

You need to escape from Kim Doyoung for it's been due too long.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist

#doyoung smut #doyoung angst #nct smut #nct angst #nct127 smut #nct127 angst #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #neothestars #cznnet #nct-writers #neosmutcollective #doyoung #doyoung nct #doyoung nct127 #doyoung x reader #doyoung fanfic #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fanfiction