#and also banging my head on the desk over half the concepts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

argylemikewheeler · 4 years ago

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July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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hideawayintheimaginationworld · 4 years ago

Note

I've gotten a bit into Dark Deception lately too, and I was just intrigued by the idea of one of the Lucky the Rabbit Joy Joy Gang clones being a Nice defect of all the others with no homicidal tendencies whatsoever who hides away in the maze to avoid being bullied by the others. A similar idea for a Nice Trigger Teddy scared of people and warning them because he doesn't want to blow anybody up. It's another shameless 'these evil characters are cute, i want a Nice One to make into a woobie' situation, which I am guilty of doing a LOT.

I hope you don't mind but I wrote a short story about this concept—

Lefty picked up his feet, hearing the maniacal laughter getting louder and the loud thumping behind him. It wasn’t easy, but he had to outrun them if he wanted to survive.

He skidded around the corner, jumping slightly when he heard the wall break behind him which meant only one thing: Hangry was now pursuing him also.

“Get back here! You will join the Joy Joy Gang! Joy! Joy! Joy!”

All that did was prompt Lefty to push harder to run, he was terrified of being captured and reprogrammed, knowing they would likely completely wipe his memory, meaning he'd forget everything— his family, his children, his friends, and his love.

He saw a door ahead and ran towards it, almost jumping towards it as he felt pain shot up from his leg where Hangry had grabbed him before and bit him, luckily he managed to escape but his ability to run was kind of hindered.

He grabbed the door knob, pushing it open and immediately slamming it behind him, he quickly looked around the room to survey the location and spotting items such as a desk, chairs, and lockers, which he could use to barricade the door.

He limped over quickly, pushing the desk forward towards the door and turning it down so the top part of the desk was facing directly foward. He heard the familiar “Joy! Joy! Joy!” taunting chant which prompted him to hurriedly pushed the desk against the door.

As soon as he did that, he was startled to see the door handle rattle violently.

“Hey! You're cheating!!” Lefty heard Lucky scream, “Open this door!!”

He backed away slowly, half expecting Hangry to break down the door as he had seen the pig break down countless walls while chasing him, which that was scary to Lefty, as he couldn’t tell where the pig would come from, he could be sneaking away from Lucky and Penny but running straight towards Hangry, who would be waiting around the next corner, ready to smash down the walls to get him.

For some reason, Hangry appeared angry that Lefty was “inedible” as he described, which Lefty guessed it meant that Hangry would probably eat people and he was terrified for a moment that the pig had killed his kids but he remembered that Hangry commented that he hadn’t eaten anything for “so long” and Lefty breathed in relief, realizing that Alec and Hazel were still alive.

They weren’t here, but they were still alive somewhere else.

“You can't delay the inevitable!! This isn’t the end and I won't lose to someone like you!!”

Lucky viewed this as a game, Lefty shivered, he pressed himself against the wall, raising his injured leg, trying to think of what he could do to fix it immediately so he could continue to search for an exit.

He didn’t know how he came here, only recalling that he was walking downstairs with Fetch by his side to make breakfast, then he woke up, face down on the concrete at the entrance of this twisted amusement park. He didn’t care at this point how he got here, he just wanted to leave immediately, he had a sick feeling this was a trap, a trap designed to separate him from his family and friends so they were defenceless.

He hoped that Alec and Hazel were okay, he knew in the past that he had instructed them as well as Matt and Stanley that if he was unable to protect them, they had to, they had to run to protect themselves and hopefully Lefty would find them later. He didn’t care about being rescued, he did care about what they might do to Alec and Hazel, as well as his other friends.

So far it didn’t appear that these awful machines had Alec and Hazel, Lefty was sure if they did, they would have mentioned it as a means to get him to cooperate. It could mean however that Alec and Hazel were held by someone else, as he had heard Lucky mention an entity named “Malak”, which that completely disapproved Lefty's initial suspicions that Nightmare was behind this, with yet another plan to bring harm to Alec and Hazel.

All he wanted was to get back to them as soon as possible.

His heart leapt when he heard something behind him, he immediately turned his head around to the source of the noise. He saw a locker door had pulled itself backwards.

His suspicion level rose, he slowly marched over, walking to the side of the locker that he saw had opened.

And he roughly pushed it to the side.

The locker easily tumbled down with a loud bang and Lefty heard an audible “OUCH!” from inside it

“I know you're watching me!” Lefty exclaimed, “Come out! I'm sick of you horrible Joy Joy gang members tormenting me!!” He kicked the side with his good leg, hearing another “OUCH!” from inside.

He stood still, prepared to attack, watching the locker door rattle before it swung open.

Lefty backed away, seeing a large gloved hand reach out.

A Lucky robot pulled itself out of the locker, laying on the floor for a moment before standing up straight.

Lefty immediately curled his fingers and delivered a swift punch to his face.

“OUCH!” Lucky exclaimed, holding his nose, “You're hurting me!”

“That's the idea dipshit!” Lefty snarled, “Now let me leave! Call off your gang and all your doppelgängers, let me walk out of here!”

It shook its head, “I'm not doing it!!”

“I don’t care if you’re the leader or the underling! I will keep fighting despite being injured! So it's better if you just stop!!” Lefty grabbed his ears, pulling him down.

“BUT I'M NOT HURTING YOU!!”

“Are you playing reverse psychology?”

“LOOK AT ME!! DO I LOOK LIKE ONE OF THEM??”

Lefty froze, looking over this particular Lucky model. He did notice it didn’t look “show ready” as he would describe it, as it had several missing suit parts, particularly on one arm, from the lower arm to the finger tips, it was just an exposed robot arm. The suit also looked dirty, with obvious mud caked on the feet, dried up black oil around its eyes, the fur at some parts looked matted, like he hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.

“I'm hiding also,” The rabbit explained, “I'm hiding from them.”

“What are you? An unfinished prototype?” Lefty let go off his ears.

“Malak said I'm a defect!”

“A defect...?” Lefty said skeptically, he knew that “defect” could mean anything, it didn’t necessarily mean this one was good, it could mean that it was missing some important programming. He was also a little confused about the tone in which he had said “defect”, like he didn’t understand what it meant.

“I don’t like them... they're mean... so I've been hiding anywhere I could basically!” Lucky exclaimed, “The concept of killing people doesn’t appeal to me.”

“How do I know you're not lying through your teeth right now?” Lefty frowned.

“I know why you wouldn’t believe me... I know you aren’t one of them... one of the Joy Joy Gang, I mean.”

“Indeed,” Lefty answered, “I just want to go home, to my family... I don’t know where the exit is though and I’ve been chased around in circles by those three,” Lefty exhaled, overwhelmed.

“Maybe... Maybe I can help you to escape! I have a map of this place installed in my memory!”

“As if I'll blindly follow you,” Lefty knew he couldn’t just blindly trust anyone in a strange place.

“How can I...? Oh! I know! Your leg!” Lucky pointed at it, “Looks like you've caused some damage to the main connection on the knee joint... you need a replacement if you want to run as fast as you can... I don’t have a replacement part on me right now, but rubber bands can help hold the joint steady temporarily so it won’t break further! Hopefully long enough for you to escape and get back to your family!”

Lefty tilted his head, “Why would you help me?”

“I want to... I've seen too many people being killed... and hearing you have a family... I know they'd be devastated if you died!” Lucky shook his head.

“I... I don’t know if I can trust you...” Lefty admitted.

“How about I tell you what you need to do with the Joy Joy Gang? You just need to electrify them!” Lucky replied, “That'll stun them long enough for you to have a chance to escape!”

“Is there anything I can do about Hangry? He's a real big problem for me right now.”

“Hangry... you can try roaring at him... he doesn’t like animals like lions or bears...”

Lefty frowned, that seemed too simple and he knew there was likely a catch, “Suppose I could... Alright... so...”

“Lucky.”

“For personal reasons, I'd rather not call you Lucky, I've had a bad experience with someone named Lucky and what's going on right now isn’t helping... can I give you a nickname instead?” Lefty suggested

“Okay!” He seemed happy at the suggestion, “What do you wanna call me?”

Lefty thought for a minute, he didn’t want something too silly, or something too unusual, but he wanted it to be distinctive.

“How about... Jai?” Lefty asked.

He saw his eyes lit up, “Ooooo Jai! That sounds so interesting!”

“It means victory.”

“Wow! I finally have a name, maybe I can stop associating myself with... that other guy...” He frowned.

“Well...” Lefty extended out his arm, “My name is Lefty.”

“Hello Lefty! I'm Jai!” He proudly introduced himself, shaking Lefty's arm, “Wow! That felt amazing! Just to introduce myself like that, as someone separate from the Joy Joy Gang!”

“I apologize also for attacking you,” Lefty shook his head.

“Oh I understand and it's forgiven... now how about I find those rubber bands and you can tell me more about yourself in the meantime, I wanna know about your family! If that's okay of course...”

Lefty chuckled, smiling at Jai.

#Ask #I was inspired #Darkest Frights #Dark Deception #Fazbear Frights #Lefty the Bear #Joy Joy Gang #unclekoopus #Writing Drabble

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sayonarasanity · 4 years ago

Text

Reverberation

Chapter V

link to AO3

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

notes: the song that will be mentioned in this chapter is She's a Rainbow by Lola Marsh and also here is the Spotify link. I highly recommend you to listen to it especially while reading that part. it's truly an incredible song

The first year of high school passed by in the blink of an eye. Between the adjustment of classes, advanced math, and literature, teachers of idiosyncratic character treats and a variety of teens in the class he didn’t even understand the period between September and June. If he was being honest there wasn’t much noteworthy difference between middle school and high school except for the lessons and maybe some physical changes among his peers as well as himself. Save for the height part. Apparently, he wasn’t gifted like that giant Mike or the very sophisticated Erwin Smith.

There was nothing much to do during the summer break. He worked alongside his uncle in the market to at least gain some money and not spend his whole time lying on his bed, sweaty and gasping for a breath while a single leaf on a tree begged for a tiny breeze to make it wiggle. He read some books, watched some TV shows, played soccer with the other boys in class; Mike, Erwin, Oluo, Guther, Eld and even Moblit when or if they were around. Went to the beach with the same squad in addition to girls like Petra, Nifa, Nanaba and Hanji.

Most of his time was spent with Hanji, of course. On the roof, in the attic, in each other’s rooms, sometimes at the library—because the heat didn’t stop Hanji from being a complete nerd—and sometimes she helped him in the market while stuffing his mind with countless mind-blowing topics.

And so came the second year of high school.

And it took Hanji only two weeks to be late for the first class in the morning.

“I can’t believe you actually slept in,” Levi told her after she came inside the class during the break, gasping, her face flushed red possibly from running, hair dishevelled and absolutely not combed, and sat down on her desk in front of him.

She was trying to adjust her breaths as she turned over to face him. The dispersed, brown strands were covering her face, some of them had stuck on her reddened cheek and forehead. After the not so successful haircut, Levi had given her, she had also gotten bangs. Courtesy of her mother. “I was reading a book last night.”

“And?” He raised a brow.

She pushed the glasses up, and leaned in closer, putting an elbow on top of his desk. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“What kind of book could possibly make you stay awake all night?”

“It’s called The Blind Owl.” She shivered as if a chill had gone through her body. “It was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever read. And the thing is I couldn’t stop reading it because it was also ridiculously intriguing,” she sighed and rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “It cost me my sleep though.”

“That bad, huh?” Levi asked, but it was obvious from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad actually. It was masterfully written for sure. It was just—”

“Disturbing.”

“Yes. There is no other word to explain it.” She ran a hand through her dispersed hair, but her fingers got stuck between the knots. Then she looked at her wrist and groaned frustrated. “I forgot my hair tie.”

One of the things the almost six years of friendship with Hanji had thought him was to collect the items she had a habit of forgetting, mostly in his room. He had a drawer full of her lost, black hair ties. He kept a few on his pencil case or sometimes, like today, he carried one of them on his wrist. “Here,” he said extending it to her.

“What would do without you?” she whined as she took the tie from him.

“You wouldn’t survive a day,” Levi pointed out. It wasn’t even half-joke.

“Agreed,” she nodded. She had finished tying up her hair. Now her face was more on display, the flush on her cheeks was nearly gone. Levi realized that her nape was not covered with the too-short strands that couldn’t make it into her sloppy, little ponytail.

His hand moved instinctively, naturally even. “Your hair has grown long again,” he told her with a frown. And when his fingers touched her bare nape, she winced quite clearly for his frown to get deeper. He retreated his hand upon her reaction.

Her hand held the place he had barely touched seconds ago and when she noticed his expression she laughed. “God, your fingers are cold.”

Levi folded his hand as a fist, pressing his fingertips on his palm to see if his fingers were indeed cold as she had said. His body temperature was low, it was no news to him but at the moment his fingertips was not that cold for her to give such a reaction. Maybe because she had run here it was her body which was unnaturally hot, he reasoned, not really satisfied but he would accept it for the time being.

“Do you want me to cut it?”

“No,” she objected, avoiding his stare. “I’ll use it like this for a while.”

Her hand went on rubbing her neck, it seemed like an almost unintentional, absent-minded motion at this point.

“I made some research,” Hanji said when the silence got a little awkward for their standards. She then looked through her bag with both hands and slammed a wrinkled piece of paper on his desk.

“What’s this?” He examined her inelaborate handwriting but couldn’t understand the overall concept of what was written. Meanwhile, Hanji brought a pen over the page and underlined two words that were written in capital letters.

ROSE and SINA.

“These two are the best universities of the country,” she started to explain. “Both in terms of education and in terms of different opportunities for students. Student clubs are very much active also the campuses are huge.”

Levi had heard of the universities of course. They were named after the cities they were located in. Sina was almost three hours away from their town and Rose was even further in the opposite direction. But they had to leave the town at some point if they wanted to receive a good education. As Hanji had told the two of them were probably their best options and if they manage to keep their grades high enough there was a chance for both of them to make it into the same university. But, which one?

“But?”

“But” she carried the pen over the word Sina and drew a circle around it. “Since Sina is a technical university, I think it is a far better option for us considering the departments we want to study.”

Levi hummed thoughtfully. She did have a point.

“Also,” she continued, eyes glittering. “Great professors like Keith Shadis, Theo Magath and Darius Zackly are teaching there. Imagine the lectures…” she shrieked with excitement and wiggled in her seat. “It’s gonna be so fun!”

Levi shook his head at her quite early thrill and snatched the pencil out of her hand. He drew an arrow to the word Sina and wrote elegantly above: GOAL. “Sina it is then.”

Hanji took the pencil back and while nodding she scratched the word he had just written and instead, bringing the pencil a little to the crosswise she wrote: DREAM.

She looked at him then as if to confirm, with a bright smile on her lips and eyes full of the glitter of the dream she held so close to her heart. It was contagious. Levi felt his lips curling up, and maybe a tiny bit of that lustre in her eyes had reached out to his own. And he thought that maybe it wasn’t that hard after all.

How naïve, a sly, foreign voice whispered in the back of his mind. Little boy, how naïve.

“So, what’s going on between you two?”

Hanji lifted her eyebrows upon Nifa’s question and moved her stare to whom the question was directed. Nanaba gulped her bite with seemingly a little more force than necessary and blinked innocently at Nifa. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Nifa wiggled her brows, smirking mischievously at their suffering friend. “You and Mike.”

Petra hid a chuckle behind her hand as Hanji bit her cheek inside to stop her smile from shaping so obviously. They were sitting in the backyard of the school on an arbour for lunch. There was still for about half an hour until their next class and from the looks of it, Nifa had decided to use it for some gossip.

“Nothing,” Nanaba answered nonchalantly then she brought the straw of her peach juice to her mouth and took a very long sip. Hanji didn’t miss the faint blush on her cheekbones. “We’re friends.”

“You’re a little too close for being friends, don’t you think?” Nifa asked with a sweet voice, dropping her chin on top of her intertwined fingers, smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Nanaba brushed her off, taking another bite from her sandwich.

“Stop tormenting her, Nifa,” Hanji interrupted just as Nifa was about to say something else. “She can tell us when she feels like it.” Hanji then smirked at a very pissed Nanaba, who was glaring at her so hard Hanji thought she could catch flames just by responding to her stare.

Suddenly, someone dropped something in front of her with a loud “pat” and Hanji looked down, startled, to a packet of chocolate milk, then looked up to a frowning Levi.

“Did you eat?”

“Yep!” Hanji rested her chin on her palm and smiled at him. “Did you?”

He nodded silently and gestured at the milk standing on the wooden table. “You’re gonna pay me back for that later.”

“Stingy,” she murmured as he turned his back to her. Hanji saw the other boys gathered up around a bench a little away from where she and the girls sat. And before Levi went too far away, she shouted behind him, “When shall we meet again?”

He glanced at her above his shoulder. “After school,” he said, flatly.

“Come on, Levi!” She lifted her chin from her palm, disappointed. “You should’ve said “when the hurly-burly is done”, I thought you were better than that!”

He turned his whole body to her this time, walking backwards. A smirk played on one corner of his lips, midday sun caught his eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. “And you should’ve asked, “in thunder, lightning or in rain?” I thought you were better than that , genius.”

Take him and cut him out in the little stars.

Levi was beautiful. Hanji recalled the day she had first realized it, the faint yellow leaves and the crackling sound of fire. The realization had hit hard, and she couldn’t have understood the reason why right away. It was startling that was for sure but after some thorough and logical consideration, she had decided that it was all about being a teenager.

It was that simple. Thinking a boy was beautiful was natural. Besides, it wasn’t just Levi. Erwin, for instance, was attractive. With a sharp chin, bright, blue eyes and that shiny yellow hair that always looked so soft like cotton. He wasn’t necessarily beautiful though but attractive still, handsome even.

And he will make the face of Heaven so fine.

Levi turned his back to her again and Hanji snorted, opening the straw of her chocolate milk. “He got me bad.”

When she put the straw between her lips for a long sip, she realized the silence that has settled on the table and when she took a glance above her glasses, she saw the three other girls looking at her.

“What?” she asked after gulping.

“What’s with you two?”

“Huh?”

It was Nifa again and this time the question was directed at her. “You and Levi?”

Hanji blinked, trying to reason her question. “What about us?”

“You seem close,” Petra added instead of Nifa. Her hazel eyes curious as she observed Hanji. “Like real close.”

Hanji frowned and pushed her glasses back to their proper place. “We are best friends.” They seriously hadn’t understood it for a year?

“I bet everyone thinks you’re dating,” Nifa said laughing.

Oh? “That’s ridiculous,” Hanji said, shaking her head. “Why would I date my best friend?”

Nifa shrugged, and Petra looked thoughtful. “How long have you been friends?”

Hanji didn’t know why but she felt her stomach curl. “Since we were eleven.”

Petra hummed and the conversation seemed to be over like that. Hanji chewed the plastic stick thoughtfully and with distress, she couldn’t find the reason why. The curl stayed solid in her stomach, sharp and insistent. Absently she noticed that Petra was staring somewhere with a strange expression in her eyes and when Hanji followed her stare, she saw Levi standing in front of the bench the other boys were sitting. Mike who was standing next to him had wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and he looked content, his features relaxed, his black hair looked smooth touching his forehead.

That all the world will be in love with the night.

Goddamn Juliet, she thought bitterly, frowning she took her eyes away from him. Goddamn Shakespeare.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

It was Wednesday afternoon on a nice autumn day. Near them was a tree slowly getting peeled off its leaves, and the clouds were reflecting the orange light the sun created. It was also reflecting on her ginger hair, making it shine almost yellow.

“I, uh…” Petra cleared her throat, squeezed her hair behind her ear as the blush that had appeared on her cheeks gradually became more visible. “This is harder than I expected.”

Levi raised his brows. He had been wondering what Petra wanted to talk to him ever since she asked him if they could meet after school in the backyard this morning. He had found it a little awkward because it had felt like she wanted to talk to him in private and he couldn’t have thought of any reason why she would wish for that.

“You look nervous,” he told her.

“Well, of course, I am,” Petra laughed, not a cheerful one. “I am trying to…”

She let out a sharp breath as if she was angry at herself and she wasn’t looking at him too. Her eyes were scanning their feet, her fingers were fidgeting, brows furrowed.

And Levi was quietly getting an idea about why she wanted to talk to him.

“Just tell me,” He tried to encourage her, feeling his own heartbeat getting faster abruptly.

Finally, she looked up at him, her cheeks painted crimson and she took a long, deep breath before she said, “Would you like to go to the cinema with me?”

“Oh,” he said.

Not the kind of reaction he should’ve given apparently. Petra bit her lower lip anxiously at first, searching his eyes. He must be pretty shocked for she looked a little discouraged upon his reaction. But within seconds she gathered herself up, her shoulders held high.

“I… liked you since the seventh grade,” she said, the blush spread from her cheeks to her neck, but she continued to be resolute without looking anywhere else than him. “And I thought that there is nothing wrong with asking a boy out if that boy doesn’t seem to be doing it anytime close.”

Levi felt his own cheeks heating up. Admittedly, he had never realized Petra had such feelings for him. “Sorry.”

Petra laughed, somewhat forcefully. “It’s okay,” she gulped, and a weak smile vibrated on her lips. “Just don’t be harsh if you’re gonna say no.”

Levi considered her offer quietly. Petra had always been a good friend and she was a nice person too. Kind, tidy and even funny. She loved painting and drawing and was pretty gifted at them as well. And she smelled fresh, Levi guessed it was because of the softener she used on her clothes, her hair was soft, and her eyes were pretty.

“When do you want to go?”

Said pretty eyes glittered as she beamed at him. For a second, in the back of his mind, he saw a very similar image belonging to another girl with auburn hair and hazel-brown eyes who had a smile that reminded him of the rainbow after rain and sun.

“What about this Friday after school?” Petra asked, excitedly.

“Sure,” Levi responded, trying to smile and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach.

When he stepped into the roof, the night was chilly, the sky was full of transparent, quietly moving clouds, the stars were shining behind them, the Wanning Gibbous was hanging low on the horizon, and Hanji was standing on the edge of the roof, her head laid backwards.

Levi didn’t even know if he breathed, his heart jumped to his throat as he threw his schoolbag to the ground and walked closer to her from behind cautiously. “Hanji, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Watching the sky,” she replied, smiling.

Levi felt a muscle move on his jaw; his heart was beating so loud it almost hurt his ears. He focused on adjusting his breaths. In and out. “Don’t be ridiculous. Get back down.”

Hanji shrugged and Levi nearly had a heart attack right then and there. He felt his eyes widen, and his breath hitched. “I feel closer to the clouds like this.”

“Hanji,” he took slow, careful steps towards her. The night breeze was toying with her dispersed hair, her face was tranquil, her eyes never left the sight of the clouds. The smile that was drawn on her lips was unmoving like it was craved there by the hands of a masterful sculptor. And he watched her, his heart still beating fast and loud, his breaths irregular, and his eyes wide, and he thought about—

Stars

how free she looked at that moment like she belonged to the sky, the stars and the moon. As if they shone for her only.

hide your fires.

Brown hair and brown eyes but Hanji was luminous. She kept the colours hidden, had a brush and a palette ready in her hand. The murky night did nothing but to contrast the light, she had a way with the world which made her stood out among the dullest of sounds and faces. Even on top of a derelict building, she was—

Let not light see—

the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He grabbed her wrist, inhaling hard and thick then he drew her back with a quick move of his arm. Her body turned and crashed against him, and he stumbled backwards a few steps, but he kept his balance, wrapping his arms around her waist securely, without any intention of letting go. He vaguely heard the surprised shriek Hanji made upon his unexpected move. And he half-expected her to push him back, to laugh it off and to say that he was being dramatic again. That nothing was going to happen anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to jump.

Yet instead, her arms circled his neck as she rested her cheek on his head and at that very moment Levi realized that he had never thought of losing her, of what would happen if she were to leave his life. Just like he had never imagined a day without the sun rising. The thought was uninvited and unwelcomed, and it cropped a fear in his heart so profound, he drew a shivering breath in before he buried his face on her neck. Then he pushed that thought deep down to the dungeon in his head never to see daylight again.

“I’m okay, you know,” Hanji spoke after seconds.

“Stupid,” he said, holding her tighter. “Stupid four-eyes.”

“Mm,” she muttered, amused. Then she started to move left and right making him follow her movements as if they were dancing. “I’m going to let all the world know that Levi Ackerman cares for me.”

Levi placed his forehead on her shoulder, pressing hard. “Someone needs to care for your sorry ass, or you’ll drop it down a goddamn building.”

She laughed, and it felt so good to hear it he immediately craved the sound soon as it faded away. Hanji stopped moving afterwards, then put her hands on his shoulder to push him slightly back. He withdrew reluctantly but kept his hands on either side of her waist not ready to let go just yet.

Her eyes were somewhat misty as she watched him, as the sharp peak of a mountain lost behind a grey fog. Levi frowned at her, searching for a sturdy branch to hold and to obtain some kind of a clue about what she was thinking. He came back empty-handed, and Hanji snapped out of it soon after, smiling at him brightly and warm. Her hair was all over her face, her glasses were askew, and he brought a hand up to fix them.

Then he flicked her forehead instead.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed, touching the slightly damaged skin.

“That was for almost giving me a heart attack,” Levi said nonchalantly and walked past her to grab his schoolbag. Then he sat down, bag between his legs as he searched for the snacks he bought after school.

“Geez, I’m sorry,” Hanji muttered as she placed herself next to him. “But you were just being dramatic. I wasn’t going to jump anyway.”

So, here was the thing, he needed to tell Hanji.

But he didn’t know how. Through all those years they had been friends, there had never been a secret among them. He knew everything about her. From the fact that she had fed a frog in her room when she was only seven without telling neither of her parents and how she accidentally killed the poor animal by forgetting to feed it properly. And to the very first crush, she secretly had on a boy who didn’t even know who she was when she was ten. Each and every detail in between had been craved in his head, everything about her was a book he had learnt by heart, and he knew that for her it was the same.

He didn’t understand why he was so unwilling now about telling her about Petra. Frankly, he was going to tell her yesterday but when he saw her standing on the edge of the goddamn roof, he had forgotten all about it in a second. Thursday, which was today, he couldn’t have found a chance to talk to her alone and tomorrow was Friday. And he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do.

Levi traced the shadows on the ceiling with his eyes, lying on his bed. It was near eleven pm but he didn’t have any sleep. Should he call Hanji? But no. It wasn’t something he could tell on the phone. It would be absurd and out of nowhere—

His phone started to vibrate on the bedside table.

He jumped a little, surprised at hearing a sound other than the voices in his head then stared at the phone for a while until he decided that it was going to ring till he opened it. And so, he did.

“I thought you had fallen asleep,” Hanji spoke before him as he lied back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I was trying to,” he lied.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized without sounding a bit sincere. “But this is more important than your sleep so…”

He raised a brow. “What did you learn again?”

“A lot of things. But that is not the reason why I called.” Levi heard some clatter he guessed it was the pressing of the computer keys. “I found a new song.”

He exhaled, wearily. “Seriously?”

“Wait before you judge,” she said. “Do you remember the time when you said, this is going to sound weird but, I was a rainbow?”

“No.”

“I hate you,” she said, darkly. “It was our first time in the attic. I had told you about –”

“I know, Hanji.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, I remember.”

She grunted and said some things he couldn’t quite pick clearly under her breath. “You don’t really deserve this but since I’m a nice person I’ll let you listen to it.”

He snorted, lips curling on the corners, and he waited for the song to start. And not long after, he heard the first notes, then a soft voice of a woman followed. He also heard Hanji accompanying quietly behind, murmuring the lyrics alongside. Then he closed his eyes to focus on the song properly.

Dearest, I'm broken

My body is unspoken

How could I be loved?

Wake up in the morning

Feeling uncertain

Like a burning old scar

For I remember

The joy I’ve had as a child

Various colours I’m hiding inside

She’s a rainbow

And I am

A difficult man

It was as if the song, the lyrics, the notes, the singer’s voice were each had little hooks, they captured his soul relentlessly. He felt captive, unable to move. The song made him feel way too many things, with an intensity that nearly choke him as he lied there. His throat felt tight, even after the song ended, notes faded, and all he could hear was Hanji’s regular breaths a complete opposite of how his heart pounded at the moment.

“So?” She asked when he was unable to speak. “What do you think?”

Levi cleared his throat, he needed to talk dammit. “It was nice.”

“Just nice?” She didn’t sound pleased at his response. “But you have to listen to it every day Levi so that you wouldn’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” Was she kidding?

“We don’t know where life would take us,” Hanji told him, her voice calm now. “It’s the reality of the world. I’m just guarantying myself.”

Oh, so she didn’t know? That no matter where life carried him, no matter how high and wild the waves would be it would change nothing. The sun would rise from the west, and all the world would crumble, melt and disappear. But he wouldn’t forget her.

“What if you forget me?” Levi redirected the question to her, wondering her answer.

“I wouldn’t,” she said, not hesitating.

“How do you know?”

“If I’m a rainbow then that would make you the sky, remember?” Some distinct shuffling came to his ears, and he imagined her lying on her side, the phone still on speaker resting on top of her pillow. “Whenever I look up at the sky, I will think about you.”

“Sappy,” he whispered, ignoring the aftershock her words caused.

She chuckled in response and yawned loudly. “Only for you, clean-freak.”

Friday after the last class ended Hanji gathered up her things quickly. It had been an incredibly long and tiring week. She couldn’t wait to spend some time with Levi on the roof, just talking about things that didn’t matter, things that were easy to speak of because they were still young and had years ahead to take them seriously.

She waited for Levi outside, leaning against the school building as he went to the bathroom. She busied herself with observing the exhausted students leaving the school borders, chattering between themselves. It was getting chilly and the black denim jacket she was wearing didn’t do a good job at protecting her. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater to her palms to at least cover her hands. She spotted Petra a few inches away from where she was standing. She was walking back and forth, fiddling with a piece of paper she held in her hands. Hanji found it a little strange but shrugged, deciding it wasn’t her business.

Finally, among the rain of students that walked through the school gate, Levi appeared. His face and some parts of his hair damp, indicating that he had just washed his face.

“Feeling refreshed enough?” Hanji asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” Levi murmured, and he looked around briefly.

“Come on,” Hanji pushed herself up from the wall. “Let’s go. We better grab something to eat on the way. I’m starving.”

She had taken only a few steps when she heard Levi calling out to her quietly. “Hanji.”

“Mm?”

He appeared to be uneasy as he looked at her, brows knitted, and lips pressed. Curiosity rose within her swiftly as she expected the words he was about to say.

“I can’t come to the roof with you today.”

Of all the things she thought about that was the least, she had expected to hear. Her stomach started to burn again, and she imagined a cauldron inside. Burning so fiercely and it never promised anything good. “Why?” Hanji asked, sounding just as surprised as she possibly looked.

Levi’s eyes moved to somewhere above her shoulder. She wanted to trace his stare but was too busy observing his expression, a little anxious, tense and what? Embarrassed? But why?

“Levi?”

“I… am going to the cinema,” he blurted eventually, his eyes finding her again. “With Petra.”

Cinema… with Petra?

“As a date?” She sounded bewildered again as if she couldn’t believe her ears. It wasn’t something to be that surprised about considering their age, hormones and everything. But it was Levi. Levi… It had always been the two of them, now imagining him spending time alone with someone else—she hadn’t prepared herself for that.

“I guess,” Levi rubbed his neck. Oh, he was shy about it too? Was he excited, was he looking forward to it? Was he going to hold her hand as he held hers? Did he even like her? When had this thing happened anyway?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He seemed guilty, and he should be too. They were best friends for a reason. If she wasn’t going to be the first one to know about his first date, what was the point to it?

“It happened just this Wednesday. I couldn’t find a proper time—”

“This Wednesday?” She tried not to reflect her disappointment in her voice. “It was two days ago, mind you. You had plenty of time.”

“Hanji—”

“Did you ask her out?” Hanji went on, not giving him any chance to speak. “How long have you liked her?”

“It’s not—” He frowned, his jaw tightened, and a blaze came to life in his eyes. “She asked me.”

“Oh? How brave!” She felt like laughing and somewhere deep inside she knew that she was exaggerating, that she should be happy for him instead. Yet the disappointment was much heavier, and it stood out so blatantly, so arrogantly that it didn’t give her any time to think reasonably.

“Hanji, don’t.” He stepped forward but she withdrew in an instant.

“Have a nice date,” she said, and she failed at hiding the sarcasm behind. And she thought she saw a flickering of hurt in his eyes but didn’t stay long enough to acknowledge it. With a final look she gave to a confused Petra, she walked out of school. And the cauldron bubbled, bubbled and it burned, and it hurt. Then Hanji wished it would turn the wildflower to ashes to its roots so that it wouldn’t spring again. Wishful thinking it was because the wildflower was already the reason why the flames come alive in the first place.

Hanji didn’t quite remember when or how but she was sitting on the swing on the park near Levi’s house, the park they had buried the dead bird all those years ago. Strange how the years passed. She felt old for some reason despite the fact that she was only sixteen and life hadn’t even started for her yet. But she yearned for that little girl now, playing snowball fight with a boy who drank a little too much tea and swore a little too much for their age. Then she cursed at herself for being so frail, for letting her emotions draw the road she would walk.

The streetlamp near the park had a weak light. It trembled from time to time, squeaking as if it was at death’s door. She pondered it was a good metaphor as to how she felt now. Exaggerating? Maybe. But Levi had become such a constant in her life, it felt like the time Jack had crashed her glasses. She remembered how blurry everything seemed and how dizzy she had felt.

“Hanji?”

She blinked and following the voice she lifted her eyes up from the ground. It was Erwin, standing in front of her, with a curious expression painted on his face. What was he doing here?

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Hanji shook her head, realizing that she had been blinking at Erwin absently. Then nodded, voicing a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

He sat down on the swing next to her, dropping his school bag on the ground. It was a funny sight. A boy of Erwin’s age and height sitting on a child swing. His legs were much too long for that, but he used them to move back and forth slowly.

“I was just passing by,” he said, shrugging. “What are you doing here alone? Where’s Levi?”

She didn’t need to be reminded of the fact that whenever someone saw one of them alone, they immediately wondered where the other was. I am acting like a child. Then she started to move back and forth herself, holding the chains on either side. “He is on a date,” she informed Erwin. “With Petra.”

Then the movements of her legs fastened to the point where she had to curl them so that they wouldn’t slow her down. She used her body against the wind, it ruffled her hair, and her hair blocked her vision. And she thought about Levi who was with Petra and Petra who was kind and pretty. Petra who had shiny hair which was always combed and tidy. Petra who was funny and nice and—

“Hanji!”

Ah, her vision was blurry. Had she dropped her glasses again?

“Hey, slow down!”

She couldn’t slow down but someone, Erwin, she remembered, made her. He was holding the sides of the swing, kneeling down in front of her, he looked into her eyes. Hanji noticed his eyes were a different kind of blue not so fierce like the winter ocean, but kind and worried at the moment. Yellow, thick eyebrows knitted, “Are you okay?” Erwin asked.

It was the second time he had asked the same question and it confused her a bit. Did she look that bad? “Yeah,” she confirmed. Her voice came out cracked.

Then Erwin reached out with his hand. Hanji waited silently as he wiped her cheek with his thumb and under her chin with his knuckles. His hand shone under the shrieking light of the streetlamp when he withdrew it, with tears, she realized with a startle. She lifted her hand then, her eyes wide and touched her damp cheek.

“I can walk you home if you’d like,” Erwin offered with a voice so gentle Hanji thought she hated it. Hated because she didn’t want pity when she was the one that had brought this upon herself.

She blinked at her wet fingers, her sight getting blurry again and used her other hand to adjust her glasses. She could walk herself home, and she opened her mouth to say that much to Erwin. But words betrayed her half-way and what came out was, “I’d appreciate that,” instead, as she accepted, silently. “Thank you.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

33 notes · View notes

joshuas · 5 years ago

Text

pick-up lines 101

♫ pairing: Lee Felix x Reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack (the entire concept), fluff

♫ word count: 10.4k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ summary: A continuation on from the Chan drabble - an utterly ridiculous fic, where Felix and the reader (who unenthusiastically) go to literal extremes to break the two up, whilst falling for each other along the way.

♫ a/n: The second addition to my Christmas oneshots! Enjoy this high-key chaotic fic! I’m sorry that it’s 10k - I think I got a little carried away (╥﹏╥). This drabble is entirely fictional, please do not take any of Felix’s actions to heart (because he’s a sweetheart and we all know it).

♫ fyi: Reader 1 (Chan’s lover) is often referred to as “Mariah Carey/playlist lover” just to be gender neutral!

♫ skz christmas oneshots: 1|2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“Let me get this straight... you want me to help break up Chan and... what’s their name- Mariah Carey lover, just so that Chan can give you pick-up lines again? Even though you’re the reason they started dating?” You leaned back against your chair, raising your eyebrows at the boy in front of you. “Well. Yes. And... Mariah Carey lover? You seriously don’t remember their name?” Your friend, Felix, raised his eyebrows. “All I care is that the person is now identifiable to me. Names are so arbitrary.” You dismissed nonchalantly. “Okay... but will you help me?” Felix turned to you with puppy dog eyes. “You know puppy dog eyes don’t work on me but whatever. I’ll help.” You got up, placing your books in your bag as Felix swiftly helped you clean up. “Oh, Y/N. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He draped his arm around your shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before releasing as the two of you exited the library. “Oh, I think I do...” You muttered as Felix excitedly explained his long-winded and elaborate plan to ‘save Chanlix’.

“C‘mon Chan hyung. It’ll be fun!” “I don’t know, Felix... wouldn’t Y/N be third-wheeling?” You observed the situation in front of you, casually eating your fairy floss as Felix looked to you for help in his mission to convince Chan to do a ‘how well do you know your partner?’ challenge at the local Christmas fair. “I don’t think Y/N really cares. Come on, hyung. If you’re not doing it for me, do it for the prize!” Felix pleaded with Chan. “The prize being... a book of ‘pick-up lines to keep your relationship fresh and interesting!’?” Chan raised his eyebrows at you.

You shrugged your shoulders, “He’s been your friend longer than mine.” “See! Y/N’s so unbothered. Please, hyung. I’ll do anything.” Felix pleaded. “...Alright. Let’s line up.” Chan reluctantly followed an excited Felix, as you trudged slowly after them.

The line was ridiculously long. Taking you half an hour to get to the front of the line, you were just about done with Felix’s antics. As Felix handed in the answers to the two questionnaires, Chan’s phone buzzed. Quickly typing a reply, his face lightened up as he waved someone over.

“Hey, Felix, I hope you don’t mind but I think I’ll partner with umm... my beloved on this one. And hey, Y/N’s here, so you can get that awesome prize with them!” Chan patted Felix on the back, his partner *cough cough* beloved approached him, pushing him lightly for being so “cringy”. Felix nodded, slightly devastated, forcing a smile as Chan and his partner walked past him, taking a seat with the other contestants. Mulling over his thoughts, Felix paced the floor as you watched more and more couples sign up for the contest. His features lightened, and as if struck by an amazing idea, he pulled you towards the sign up desk, “Do we really have to do this?” You groaned as Felix signed you up, determined. “Even though this wasn’t supposed to happen, I have just been presented with the perfect way to show Chan that I’m better than his significant other.” You looked at him confusedly, “How... are you going to do that, exactly?” “By winning.” He said, tone as if he were stating the obvious, “So, get your game face on, Y/N. We’re going to wipe the floor with them.” “Totally...”

The game was heated. You were utterly confused as to why people were so fiercely competitive to get a book of pick up lines. Don’t these people have anything better to do? “And now we have Bang Chan! Would you please come to the stage with your partner?” The MC’s voice rang out clearly across the stage, snapping you out of your reverie. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Felix lean forward, anxiously tapping his foot. “So, like all the other contestants have done, I’ll ask a couple of questions and we’ll see if your partner’s answers match with yours on the questionnaire. However, you can only win if both of you are able to answer as many questions about each other correctly.” The MC explained for the billionth time as Chan flashed an encouraging smile towards his partner. “Hey, Felix? Haven’t they been friends since childhood? How do you even expect us to have a chance?” You asked, doubtful. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I have a plan.” Felix reassured you, his eyes glued on the couple on stage. Oh, great. “First question! Ooh this is interesting. If Chan wasn’t studying music currently, what would he be doing?” Before anyone could answer, Felix yelled from his seat, “He’d be an actor or an athlete. He’d also be a kangaroo, if he could be... which I don’t really understand since they’re literally a pest species.” “Correct? Regardless of whoever answered, the points go to you guys.” The MC chuckled, slightly confused, as Chan and his partner tentatively high-fived each other. “Next question! What is Chan’s favourite season?” The MC looked pointedly at Mariah Carey playlist lover. As they opened their mouth to speak, Felix sighed loudly, “This is too easy. It’s Autumn, obviously.” You turned to Felix, embarrassed, as heads turned towards where the two of you were seated. “GeT rEaDy, Y/N. We’Re gOinG tO wiPe tHe fLoOr wiTh tHeM.” You mocked, imitating his earlier statement. “You do realise that if you keep answering the questions, they’ll end up winning. If I remember correctly, you wanted to beat them, not help them.” You hissed, annoyed at his impulsiveness. “Plans can be slightly altered. It’ll work out.” Felix shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. You pinched the bridge of your nose, Honestly, this boy only runs off two brain cells. To think of the lengths he’d go to just be told pick up lines from Chan. You’d think that he was fighting to the death for his beloved... “Haha... another point to the couple. Honestly, you guys won’t have to do anything to win at this point.” The MC pointed out awkwardly. “Let’s move onto the next question. This is easy. What is Chan’s favourite hobby?” The MC’s smile faltered as Felix stood up, everyone directing their attention towards him once again, “He loves to play sport!” You sunk low into your seat, pulling the hood of your hoodie over your head as you avoided the heavy gaze of the other contestants and other onlookers. Tugging Felix back to his seat, he slowly sat down as the MC looked at the two of you and Chan and his partner confusedly, “Ha... maybe the two of you should have partnered up.” He pointed to Chan and Felix who was adamantly glaring at the bewildered couple. “Right, so another point to the two of you. Let’s move on...” The game continued, Felix answering every single question as you cringed at his eagerness... until it came to Mariah Carey person’s turn. From then, he sat in stony silence, glaring at the couple as Chan answered every question correctly.

“Onto our next couple! Y/N and... Felix.” You sat down in the seat opposite Felix on the stage, mentally running through everything you know about him. “First question! Remember, it’s important that the both of you answer correctly, in order to win. What is Felix’s favourite colour?” You exhaled in relief, okay. These questions are kind of reasonable, “Black.” “Correct! Ooh, looks like Chan’s going to have to look out!” Your answer streak continued, with you answering the questions almost immediately. They weren’t too ridiculous (which you hadn’t expected, considering Felix). Eventually came Felix’s turn, “Alright, Felix. Let’s hope you know Y/N as well as you do Chan.” The audience chuckled at the MC’s comment as Felix flushed awkwardly (the boy was finally embarrassed istg). “Looks like the two of you were on the same wavelength! What is Y/N’s favourite colour?” An awkward silence filled the stage as Felix looked at you with utter panic. You shook your head in disappointment. Surely. Surely he kno— “Uhh turquoise?” Turquoise???? This boy. Honestly. “Incorrect! What a shame. Let’s move onto the next question.” As the game went on, awkward silences patterned with the MC’s new favourite response of ‘incorrect!’

“It’s a real shame that you and Chan weren’t partnered together.” The MC patted Felix’s back sympathetically as you headed back to the contestants whilst Chan and his partner collected their prize, Chan cracking the cheesiest of pickup lines on his very much embarrassed significant other, “You know, my shirt’s so soft. Do you know what material it’s made of? Boyfriend material.” “Oh my god, Chan, stoppp.” As the crowd dissipated, you stood, beckoning Felix to walk with you, “I thought you wanted to win.” You said dryly, as Felix turned to you, defensive, “How am I supposed to know the intimate and in-depth details of your life?” “Favourite colours are hardly intimate, and generally friends are supposed to listen to each other, and talk to each other about their interests?” You raised your eyebrows. He sighed in defeat, “You’re right. I’m sorry. How about we grab a hot chocolate and you can tell me all the answers to those questions.” He held out his hand to you. You looked at it questioningly, slowly taking it, interlocking your fingers with his, ignoring the fluttering of your heart, “I know you’re only doing this so that I can help you but I’m far too hungry to care about your motives.” “Of course not. It’s just also the perfect time to talk about our next course of action. Amongst talking about you, obviously.” “Sure...”

Impatiently tapping your foot as you waited in line to ‘confront Chan’, you turned to glare at Felix who was seated in his car just outside the cafe. Taking out your phone, you texted him, [10:38] Remind me again of what I have to do and why I’m doing this? [10:40] (Felix) You really don’t remember?? [10:40] to be fair, it’s an elaborate plan... [10:41] (Felix) fine. Basically you have to approach Chan hyung and give him a pick up line. Then I’ll walk in, and he’ll use it on me, and all order in the world will be restored. As to why you’re doing this... you’re doing it because you looooooooove me 😌 [10:42] More like haaaaaate but whatever. wouldn’t it seem like I was hitting on him?? [10:43] (Felix) 😭 😭 you wound me with your words, y/n. We all know that I’m your favourite person and you’d do anything for me. It should be fine. [10:44] I could leave this cafe and never talk to you again [10:45] (Felix) No!! Y/N pleaseeeee do this for me. I’ll ✨ love ✨ you forever ️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Ignoring the skip of your heart at his text, you rolled your eyes, Get a grip, Y/N. This guy clearly only has eyes for a certain pick-up lines guy. [10:46] nobody wants that. I’ll do it because I’m a good person. Please revoke your hearts. [10:47] (Felix) Neverrrrr ️️️️️️️️️️️️️️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ [10:47] (Felix) oh! You’re up in line!! Go! You got this!! Steeling yourself, you smiled as you approached the counter Chan was working at, “Hey, Y/N! How are you?” Chan greeted you cheerfully, dimples on full display. Ahh too bright. My eyes— his smile’s too charming. I kind of understand why the whole playlist thing went well. “Heyyy Chan! I’m good. How do you brew?” You laughed awkwardly, internally cringing. “Oh, I’m brewing good too. Can I get you anything?” He grinned at your pun. “Uh— just a latte for me, thanks.” You panicked, stating the first thing you saw on the menu. “One latte coming right up. So, how’s Felix? I haven’t seen him since the festival. I know he really wanted that pick up line book.” He looked at you, his eyes slightly guilty as he started the espresso machine. You could say that... “Yeah, he’s been taking it... pretty hard. How have you been finding the book?” You asked. “The book’s pretty cool, actually. I’ve come across some pretty great pick up lines. Oh! There’s this one where—“ You cut him off as he poured in two teaspoons of sugar, regurgitating the pick up line Felix had forced you to practice repeatedly in the car beforehand. “I have a better one- hold the sugar, please. You’re sweet enough for me.” Ughhhhhh. Ugh. That was— ugh. I should start apologising. Chan’s eyes widened, his expression similar to a deer caught in headlights, “I— Wow! You’re just full of creativity, Y/N. Look at you, two pick up lines in one morning. I’m going to have to use them on my partner, now.” He laughed awkwardly. “No!” You interjected. “No?” You took a deep breath, “You can only use them on your best friend.” “Is this like one of those ‘repost this chain or you’ll die in 13 days or something like that’ things but in real life?” Chan questioned, confused. You turned around, not-so-subtly beckoning Felix to come into the cafe. “Haha... what??? Oh and just to be clear, I wasn’t hitting on you, so can you please continue putting in the sugar?” “I know. It’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for— Oh hey Felix! I— oof!” He stumbled backwards from the impact of someone— oh it’s his playlist lover, wrapping him into a hug. “Hey. What’s up?” He released them, looking at them concerned. “Nothing. I just missed you today.” “Oh that reminds me. Y/N told me these epic pick up lines. I have to use them on you...” I mean. They are best friends... You looked apologetically at Felix who stood, his jaw clenched, passively fuming as he observed the couple from the door, “Felix, I’m really sorry that your plan failed again.” You patted his back sympathetically. “It’s fine... we just have to come up with something more attention grabbing!” He nodded resolutely, leading you out of the cafe. “Wait— I left my coffee!” “There’s no time to lose, Y/N. I’ve already come up with our next plan.” Oh no.

The next phase of the plan was... extravagant to say the least. Felix hadn’t told you much but seeing the long to-do list he had written out... it was a bit much. Approaching the art department, you knocked on the door of the workshop whilst Felix strode confidently past you. Upon hearing the knock and Felix’s footsteps, a brown-haired boy looked up from what looked like it was supposed to be a sculpture but was really just a blob of clay, “Minho hyung... my man! My bro! What’s up?” Felix clapped the boy’s shoulder. You shook your head in disgust, Why is he so cringy? The boy - Minho, narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “What do you want, Felix?” “Why do people always assume that I want anything? What if I just wanted to hang out with my dearest friends without any motives except for showing my appreciation for you guys being in my life?” Felix raised his hands in surrender defensively. “Hell would have to freeze over for that to happen.” You hummed, Minho snorting at your comment as Felix clutched his chest in mock offence. “Well, as you can see, no one buys your sentiment, so tell me what you want.” Minho sighed. “You both wound me with your verbal warfare, but... I actually need a favour.” Felix stated tentatively. “A favour?” Minho raised an eyebrow. “I need you to make me a life sized present.” He said seriously. Do you ever look at someone and wonder what on earth is going on in their head? Yeah, there’s no point on doing that for Felix. Nothing can explain what goes on in there. “I need to what? Why?” Minho looked at Felix, incredulous. “That’s on a need-to-know basis and you don’t need to know. Look, all I need you to do is find a human-sized box and decorate it with wrapping paper and whatnot. Just make it look like a present.” Felix explained, slightly impatient. “...why me?” Minho asked, reluctant. “You’re an art major, right? This’ll be in your ballpark. I give you full creative liberty. Just make it look as pretty and realistic as possible.” Felix clapped Minho’s back, waving as he exited the workshop. You gave Minho an apologetic glance before chasing after Felix. “...but I’m an accounting major.” Minho sighed, defeated.

“Y/N, Minho hyung just dropped off the present! Come look at it!” Felix called from the foyer. The two of you were currently “house sitting” Chan’s apartment. Technically Chan didn’t ask you guys to, since he was only going away for a day. However, Felix insisted on it, using the excuse of ‘watering Chan’s plants’ to execute his plan. Chan doesn’t have any plants. Ignoring Felix’s poor attempt at a cover, Chan let Felix do whatever but gave clear instructions to not break or burn anything. Wandering over to Felix, you gaped at the... present in front of you. On the floor, in front of you, was literally just a human-sized cardboard box (that was falling apart, the clear sticky tape holding the corners together by a thread) with random Christmas wrapping adorning the sides of it, alongside a lid (with breathing holes) and a bow on top. Minho must be a modern art student or something, because this is... interesting to say the very least (no offence to modern art students/artists - love y’all). “It’s so beautiful!” Felix fussed over it, his eyes sparkling with excitement and awe. Of course Felix would like it. I guess art truly is in the eye of the beholder. “So, are you going to tell me what you’re going to do with that?” You crossed your arms over your chest staring pointedly at the box. “I’m going to hide in this present until Chan hyung comes back from his hometown tomorrow morning at nine on the dot. Chan hyung will see this mysterious package in the living room and his curiosity will force him to open it, revealing me! I’ll give him a pick-up line, he’ll laugh and we’ll both live happily ever after.” “Not to rain on your Disney princess movie parade but I don’t think you’ve thought any of the logistics through. How are you—“ “Y/N, stop. Let a professional work their work. Don’t worry, I’ve figured everything out.” He waved his hand dismissively, picking up the box and beckoning you to grab the other side. “Don’t come crawling back to me when you need help. Or food.” You warned.

“Just sit still! Stop moving! Otherwise I’ll duct tape your hands together.” You waved the duct tape roll threateningly as Felix fidgeted in the box. On the way to the living room, the box had decided to collapse in on itself as you had expected. Felix, being Felix, was distraught, causing you to be here now fixing the box up with duct tape as Felix sniffed sadly at its unfortunate demise. “I’m sorry, Y/N! Please don’t! How would I be able to eat?” He surrendered, eyes wide. “That’s for you to figure out and for me not to care about. Lucky for you, I’m not that cruel.” You stuck the last piece of tape on the box, dusting your knees as you stood, helping Felix move closer to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. “Okay, so this is where I leave you.” “You’re leaving already??” Felix pouted, your heartbeat quickening, He really wants to hang out with me? No... He’s probably just worried he’ll be bored. “It wasn’t really at the top of my Christmas wish list to spend Christmas Eve with a man stuck in a life sized present waiting for his friend to come home so that he can give him a pick-up line. I also wouldn’t dare ruin your future moment with Chan. You have your phone, right? Call me if you need me.” You sighed, grabbing your keys as you stuck the lid on Felix, he let out a muffled “bye” as you left the apartment.

“Y/N? Can you pick me up? I’m scared.”

“Y/NNNN I’m bored. Come over.” “Tell me what you think of this pick-up line...” Swiftly deleting the 40 voicemails Felix had left you overnight, you rolled your eyes, a small (but uncontrollable) smile forming on your face at his dramatics. Okay, you were kind of fond of Felix’s theatrics. Not that it matters, though. You sighed, rolling out of bed. It was a bit tiring - having to foster feelings towards someone that doesn’t feel the same way. Just be a good friend, Y/N. That’s all that matters right now. Your phone buzzed, the caller ID showing Felix. You sighed, picking up the phone, “He—“ “Y/N? You need to come. Like now.” Felix whispered hurriedly. “Why?” You raised your eyebrows at his urgency. “Why? Chan hyung was two hours late. He came back at 11 instead of nine. And guess who he came home with?” “Playlist lover.” You answered instantly, getting ready to pick him up. “Exactly. And y’know what they’ve been doing for the past hour and a bit? Making gingerbread and being a ridiculous, annoyingly cute couple. So now I’m hungry and... I really need to go to the bathroom.” He whined. “Can I just say that you really did not figure out the logistics in this plan.” You pointed out. “Logistics don’t matter when it comes to friendship!” He whispered dramatically. “Whatever. Look, I have a plan. You just need to trust me on this one.” You said, pulling a ‘disguise’ out of your closet. “Somehow that doesn’t give me comfort because normally I’m the one who makes the plans in this relationship.” “And look at how that turned out for you. I’ll see you in a bit!” You hung up on him, grabbing your car keys and heading out.

Dressed in the daggiest of outfits (lots and lots of flannel and a low cap), you knocked on the door to Chan’s apartment, revealing a floury Bang Chan and his even more floury significant other, “Y/N, is that you?” “Huh—“ you cleared your throat, deepening your voice, “uh, no. I’m their cousin. Hence, the resemblance.” “Okay... how can I help you, then?” He asked, his tone uncertain. “Oh. Well. I was hoping that I could inspect the place. I’m... your new landlord!” You exclaimed, recalling the notice you had seen around the complex. “Oh? Of course! The notices did say that you were coming for inspections.” He ushered you in, showing you through to the living room. Your eyes landed on the ‘present’ in the corner of the room. I need to get them out of here somehow. “Oh! I think I can smell something burning. You might want to check that out. Could you also point me towards the bathroom?” You asked innocently. “Ah! Of course. It’s the first room to the right in the hallway.” He gestured towards the hall as he and his partner ran to the kitchen. Rushing over to Felix, you grunted, dragging the box as quickly as you can into a room that resembled a studio. Grabbing out a pocket knife, you tore through the duct tape, lifting the lid as Felix scrambled out of the box and to the bathroom, shooting you a relieved smile. This boy. Honestly, why does he do this to himself? Hearing footsteps approaching, you panicked, hopping into the box, closing the lid on you. “Why are you in the box?” Felix approached, drying his hands hurriedly. “I thought you were Chan...” You awkwardly stepped out. “It doesn’t matter anymore! Let’s go!” He whispered hurriedly, heading towards the door as you pulled him back. “Well... you can’t come out the front with me...” you scanned the room, your eyes locking on the window in front of you. Felix followed your gaze, terror filling his eyes, “Y/N! I can’t do that! It’s so high!” He clung to you as you pushed him towards the window. “We’re literally on the ground floor. The height difference between this window and the ground is probably at half your height at most.” You flicked his hands off you, as he slowly sat on the ledge of the window as you opened the window, the cold air greeting you. “No! Y/N, I can’t do it. It’s too—“ His protesting cut off as you lightly pushed him, causing him to stumble off the ledge, tripping and falling to the ground as he landed on the thick snow outside the complex. Instantly, he lay down, yelling incoherent dramatics. Holding back your laughter, you chucked the present box next to him and shut the window, “Merry Christmas!” You re-emerged from the hallway. Somehow Chan and his Mariah Carey playlist lover were looking worse — icing adorned and everything. Oh my gosh. They’re that cliche fanfic couple that make a huge mess when cooking together. How disgusting. “Thank you for allowing me to use your bathroom. I’ll be heading out now.” “Really? What about the inspection?” Chan questioned, eyes wide. “Oh everything’s fine. Okay, bye!” You started towards the front door as Chan blocked your exit. “Wait! We just wanted to give you these gingerbread cookies. You basically saved them and we felt bad that you had to work on Christmas.” He handed the cookies to you, his tone pitiful. “Oh. Well if you insist, who am I to refuse?” You waved at them as you left the complex just as someone dressed in basically the same outfit as you approached their door, “Excuse me! Mr Bang Chan? I’m your new landlord. I came for an inspection?” They yelled, as your eyes widened in horror, bolting as fast as you could out of the complex. “I like your outfit, by the way!” They yelled after you. You caught up to Felix as he waited outside your car. “Now do you have faith in my plans?” You crossed your arms over your chest, still slightly out of breath. You thought back to the narrow escape you had with the actual landlord, Gosh, literally the first time someone compliments me for my fashion sense, it’s when I’m trying to dress up like them unintentionally. “If I say yes, will you give me a cookie?” “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, hey Y/N and Felix. Thanks for taking care of my house whilst we were away. I’m glad to see that nothing broke or burnt.” Chan brought Felix into a bro hug thing as you handed his partner a basket of gingerbread cookies, entering the Christmas-themed household. “It’s not like you weren’t about to burn the house down by yourselves.” You muttered. “Hm?” Chan looked at you expectantly. “Oh! I said... I didn’t burn the gingerbread.” You pointed at the basket of gingerbread. “You know! That’s so funny. We nearly burnt down the house a couple of days ago with our Christmas cookies.” Chan and his partner laughed nervously. “We know.” Felix blurted out. You elbowed Felix, panicked. “I see you still have your decorations up.” You said quickly changing the topic, taking in the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling and the tinsel adorned shelves. “Yeah, well we wanted to have a Christmas party but both of us went home on Christmas and it’s not illegal to have Christmas decorations up two days after Christmas.” Chan explained, handing you both mugs of eggnog. “Actually, it is. But I’ll put up with your offence.” You smirked, sipping at your eggnog. “Thank you for your everlasting generosity, Y/N. Now, you two should go and enjoy the party.” Chan clapped your backs, pushing you and Felix into the party scene. “So... what’s the plan?” You turned to Felix who was observing the couple. “Honestly, Y/N, this is my last shot.” He sighed, exhausted. “Okay... and what are you going to do?” You looked at him, concerned at his sudden dampen in mood. “I’m going to give him a pick up line.” He said triumphantly. “Um. Haven’t you been trying to do that the entire time?” You questioned, confused. “And this is the last time I’m trying that. I’m going to give him one so that he’ll be left with no choice but to fall on his knees, weeping huge tears of regret as he struggles to give me one that matches it’s sheer brilliance.” He explained (dramatically). “Sure. Come find me when you’ve had the happily ever after we’ve all been waiting for.” You shot him a quick smile before moving off to talk to playlist lover.

Soft jazz versions of classic Christmas songs played as people departed from the party.

Walking over to the hallway, you stopped, looking at a dejected Felix leaning against the wall.

“How did it go?” You said, tentatively approaching him.

“What can I say? He’s in love.” He sighed defeatedly.

“Let me guess, he used it on playlist lover?” You asked bluntly.

He nodded dejectedly.

You sighed, steeling yourself, glancing up at the mistletoe between the two of you,

It’s now or never, Y/N.

“I must be a snowflake. Because I’ve fallen for you.”

A shocked silence fell over the two of you as you stumbled to recover your dignity.

“I—“

“Say that again.”

“Huh?”

“The pick up line. Say it again.”

“...I must be a snowflake. Because I’ve fallen for you.” You muttered.

“That... do you mean that?”

“Well. Yes. In a sense because I’m not a snowflake. That’s just weird. Why did I say that? I also don’t think anyone that only liked you as a friend would go to such lengths to help salvage a friendship you don’t really need to salvage. Look, obviously the dynamic between you and Chan has changed since he got a girlfriend. But hey, if you feel the same way, I could be the Chan to your Felix. In a romantic manner, obviously... perhaps as your partner?” You looked nervously at the ground.

“You really like me? After everything I put you through?” He asked, incredulous.

“Although it was extremely ridiculous, it was entertaining... and we got to spend time together.” You quietened your voice for the last part.

“Well, we must both be snowflakes because I’ve fallen for you too.” He lifted your chin, eyes interlocked with yours.

“That was really cheesy.” You murmured.

“Hey, you’re the one that used it on me first.” Felix defended.

“Mmk. Well. For this to work you need to—“ He interrupted you, capturing your lips with his briefly.

“Did that make up for it?” He stepped back, breathless.

“Th-that was cheesy too.” You stuttered, shocked.

“Well, our relationship hasn’t exactly been cliche until now.”

“Ah yes, kissing under the mistletoe. It’s almost like the ending of a Christmas classic movie.” You sighed.

“Almost?” Felix raised an eyebrow.

“Minus the pick up lines.”

“Yeah, well you’re roped into this now. You’ve given me the expectation that you’ll give me a pick up line every time you see me.” He smirked.

“No. I refuse.” You grabbed your bag, waving at Chan and his partner as you exited his apartment, Felix on your heels.

“Three a day?”

“One.”

➳ part three? | masterlist!

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crimson-dxwn · 4 years ago

Text

AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS

As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by.

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Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them.

He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that.

If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs.

He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position.

Mereel of course, catches on within minutes.

“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”

His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.

“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are.

“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife.

“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”

He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason.

“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife.

“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four.

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?”

A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand.

“Most likely.”

“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence.

By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded.

“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.”

“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds.

“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine.

---

It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off.

Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace.

Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss.

He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.

*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…

The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow.

They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size.

Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room.

“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.

“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.”

So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.

Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them.

There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face.

Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute.

Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.

“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone.

“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him.

“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate.

“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.”

It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar.

He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental.

“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out.

“Here.”

Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell.

“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow.

They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed.

The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer.

-------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Weeks later

19 BBY

Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night.

It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds.

They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world.

An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer.

“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a.

They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory.

Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place.

“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.”

Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line.

The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable.

The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself.

As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better.

As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind.

He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile.

“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”

It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely.

“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough.

He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.

They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others.

“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.”

The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her.

“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.

“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.

“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.”

——

Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best.

Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.

Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead.

“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering.

Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize.

A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.

Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them.

She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right.

Taglist

@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith

#PHEW THIS SUCKED TO WRITE UGH #how do people write long chaps like goddamn I'm drained and this took MONTHS #i suck basically lol #At Odds #Republic Commando #Kal Skirata

46 notes · View notes

bisexualoftheblade-old · 4 years ago

Note

how many wips do you have? like what are they all, and not the number of wips in a fandom? what are all the names?

okay. fuck you. fuck you so much. fuck you.

i’m putting this under a read more cut no one else deserves to see this shit. a lot of these are requests, and for those i will just write out the request itself

Shadowhunters:

domestic polycule fluff with tem, jessa, and will because im not a coward

Supernatural

- hehe hoho i request destiel hehehe

- request 61/? cai cai cai cai i need you to rewrite the destiel scene but yk. GOOD. not like i'm in the know about the spn fandom or anything, it's been years for me. but DO IT

Bright Sessions

- caleb/adam grisha AU

- mark bryant vs. united states aka sue the AM

- caleb/adam college fluff

Umbrella Acaademy

- request 31/? i want a ben and klaus drabble please spare me some brotherly bickering

- AND SO BEGINS NIGHT 4 with request 13/? oooh oooh can i get a raymond and allison playlist??? i think their vibes together would SLAP

- hi there night 2 is technically morning 3 but who's counting not me anyway request 5/? can i get a ben moodboard? gotta rep my tua bb

Percy Jackson

- request 9/? can i get a percabeth moodboard or quote edit?? like god they're the og couple goals take me back to high school cai

- For the 100 follower things :D Jercy getting caught in the rain

- request 29/? a drabble about literally anything to do with pjo. i’ll be happy with anyone and anything i’m love these children

- *somersaults in like I’m a real fancy acrobat* hello ello ello may I request some camp half blood chaos possible involving *does a flip* ✨side characters✨ <3

Penumbra Podcast

- request 52/? drabble about the penumbra podcast. this is for ren bc ren likes it and i don't actually know anything about it. juno? i think? that's the one ren likes. write it for ren

- Tpp ghost hunting / buzzfeed unsolved au

- sad juno smut

- final resting place fic go brrrr

Marvel

- request 6/? i'm going to my roots y'all can i get a spider-man playlist? if not a playlist then i'd honestly be happy with literally anything involving spider-man

- request 15/? i'm going crazy this is recorded evidence of me actually losing it ANYWAY can i get a quote edit for something from iron man? literally anything that man says is gold so cai's choice :D he deserved better in endgame i'm still bitter

- request 42/? do another spidey thing that differs from the other spidey thing

- request 73/? you have Opinions. rant about infinity way and/or endgame. go.

- request 74/? quote edit for deadpool!!

- spideytorch relationship character study

- peter parker as a tired grad student monitoring the young avengers (send help)

Six of Crows

- okay listen i wasn't going to request anything bc i worry about you but also? if you want to/have the time hit me with a playlist for our girl nina zenik

- request 43/? fuckin give me the ending anya should have had. she is alive and with her new son and having a great time

- request 45/? inej moodboard?

- request 47/? will you make literally any meme of your choosing for six of crows?

- request 48/? write a drabble for kaz, my favorite bastard

- okay so i don't actually like nina or mattias that much but i still wanna hear about your thoughts (and also see if you'll change my mind)

- kaz brekker turning 18 fic. birthday party, everyone singing, whole shebang. i need it stat

- religious trauma fic aka i started shipping kaz/alina/inej and i can’t stop

- kaz trauma soup (he has D.I.D. and you can’t prove me wrong)

- my two redacted fics for @grishaversebigbang

- wesper fake dating

- six of crows bright sessions crossover: everyone gets therapy

TMA

- uhh... s1 gang having a nice time? melanie getting to have some Pride™️? some "fun" horror thing?

- request 7/? spare steph and jason bonding? please sir? spare some for a humble child such as myself?

- okay so this was meant for night 3 but i had midterm shit SO this is honorary night 3 let's DO THIS request 8/? i want a moodboard of extremely out of context magnus archives shit like i mean confuse the FUCK out of me i don't go here i know Nothing about it

- request 11/? OKAY so i need tim stoker meeting tim drake now i need my timmy to meet your tim plus i want to see character differences no i'm not trying to create a tim stoker in my head so i can read a's fic while NOT thinking of tim drake whaaaaaat you're crazy

- request 18(i think)/? i need a quote edit of every time within the first like. 15 eps of tam where jon is like “sounds fake but go off” thank u bb

- request 40/? i challenge you to write a tma drabble based only on the episodes i've heard. i'm currently halfway through episode 23

- Jon being lovingly bullied into taking a break. I'm aware this has been written a million times but it is one of my favorite things.

- spiral!sasha AU

- extinction martin go brrrrr

- high school era timsasha. they've both been friends for years, and everyone always asks when they will be a couple. they decide to fake date, to prove everyone wrong and show what a bad couple they would be. turns out that's a bit trickier than they thought

- after sasha comes back, tim is broken. he can't let go, scared that if he looks away for even a minute he'll lose her again. sasha suggests shibari as a way for him to give up control

- sasha pov mag 19 au, sacrificing herself to save the others, knows that if she gives herself up to the not!them it will let the others live

- this is the "tim finds a polaroid of sasha" trope

- early archives days,, long nights in research,,, clothes sharing,, somft. late nights and falling asleep at their desks warm and safe in the other's presence

- two parts: timsasha as kids, each picking a constellation that is "theirs". just soft kid antics. tim at sasha's grave glancing up to see their constellations

- continuing your job’s a joke (you’re broke)

DC Comics

- TIMSTEPH HADESTOWN AU,,,

- my redacted fic for @batfam-big-bang

- request for you to get a decent amount of sleep? serious answer, dickkori, SAL's Venus

- request 4/? timsteph morning after 👀 mayhaps?

- a concept: nonbinary stephanie brown

- teehee hi mom, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but can i request damian angst for your accomplishments 100 followers?

- hi you can ignore my first request if you want, or you can ignore this one. but bls possibly write some bikini ra’s? -the bikini bitch

- request 27/? jay is asking through me for a jondami playlist but tbh i also want it so win win yk?

- "I don't know how to help you but I can help you find someone who does" with bruce and jason? im just craving bruce being a good day to jason for once

- “I am putting you in time out because you need to understand the consequences of your actions.” with steph and jason as dumbass disaster bi best friends pretty please?

- request 32/? timsteph patrol date!!!

- request 33/? timsteph *gala* date? mayhaps??

- request 37/? tim drake drabble but make it Edgy cai

- request 39/? drabble of a prank war between tim and damian

- joyfire cuddly fluff please? or like just any outlaw fluff if joyfire isnt your thing (feel free to add every member of the outlaws, dont feel like u gotta stick with jason, kori, roy i love them all)

- barbara and robin! jason fluff? bonding over books or something?

- request 62/? i need a drabble about the chaotic trio jason, tim, and steph i'm love them ty

- request 63/? batfam x mcu crossover. batfam meets ironfam. give me ALL the cliches. ALL OF THEM

- request 64/? young justice x young avengers - jay cuz idk SHIT about the young avengers

- request 66/? jondami moodboard pls and ty

- request 67/? timsteph moodboard!!!!!!

- request 69/? HEHEHE kinky 😏 i would v much like a timsteph drabble of the almost first time. does that make sense? like i don't want you to go all the way NSFW cuz i know that's against the rules and i'm a rule follower. but like they *almost* go all the way. this could be fade to black or some shit i don't care just make it a lil steamy and have Fun

- i request damian angst! all of it

- hmm... maybe i request? jondami?

- mayhaps,,,,some batfam,,,,,committing crimes? ily be gay do crime <3 - lu

- How about a ficlet with Steph and Cass?

Found Family Bingo Prompts

- no powers au

- tunnel

- first day

- join the club

- hurt/comfort

- experiment

- playing favorites

- hold on

- possession

- 10 o’clock

- singing

- road

- snitch

- curfew

- timer

- fantasy au

- zombie au

- dreams

- campfire

- are you okay

- movie night

- games

- scared

Miscellaneous

- a request: Write A Drabble, Coward

- is it too late to request a moodboard for me?

- request 20/? i’m going off book because i’m in a Chaotic Mood™️ can you just absolutely vibe check me like go off cai demolish me

- request 21/? i formally request that you pick a favorite cai. i don’t care what that favorite pertains to, just pick a favorite something

- request 23/? roast me

- request 24/? can i have a buzzfeed unsolved spoopy playlist but spoiler alert it’s not spoopy bc shane doesn’t believe does this make sense it has been a Day™️

- request 25/50 i want a jake and amy fic make it Soft cai i’m love them b99 is so good

- request 28/? i know nothing about the lord of the rings so make something that will confuse the shit out of me

- request 34/? malvie and jaylos moodboards 😈

- request 35/? a moodboard for the bbb mods!! perceive all of us!!!

- request 36/? moodboard for the tua mods too???? mayhaps??

- request 41/? doctor WHO? idk but i want a drabble of him and the one character i know from doctor who which is rose

- request 46/? make an alignment meme with our group, have fun!!!

- request 49/? i want you to kin assign me a character from every fandom you can/want to. go feral

- request 50!!!!/? this is a special request. the most special request. can you make a bastards tbh playlist? i want our vibes encapsulated. i want us in music form. i want to hear those songs and be like "that's me and cai" and smile.

- requests 51/? i know jack shit about good omens. explain it to me in the most confusing way possible. make me know less by the end than i know now

- request 53/? can you write a mel aesthetic? i'm Curious

- request 54/? give me a list of book recs cai i want some good book recs pls

- request 56/? edit a picture of US together too

- request 58/? oooh can i have a disney edit? like. hm. i just really love disney and i want anything to do with disney. like a quote or an aesthetic or an aesthetic edit i just want disney.

- request 59/? i would v much like a recipe for carbonara. i've never had it but it sounds fucking delicious

- request 60/? ooh hey can i get a makeup tutorial? i know you like makeup, i'm shit at doing makeup. teach me

- request 65/? i need the most emo playlist you can make that vibes with dear evan hansen thank you

- request 68/? i want a superwholock moodboard. this can be serious, with the actual fandoms in mind, or literally what the era felt like. the insanity. the horror.

- request 70/? ooh ooh ooh do you have a good bread recipe?? i wanna get that bread

- request 71/? i want a playlist with the vibes of summoning a demon. please don't ask questions. i don't have answers. and if i do, no i don't.

- For the requests, how about writing something based on a friend?

- request 75/? MMMM i want literally anything to do with natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812

- request 76/? i want some healthy recipes. help a girl out

- a feral bbb quote or two?

- you perceive my plant but now I dare thee to perceive mine own visage

- okay this is a two for one request. 1. you did the bee movie script so now we need a shrek two script edit 2. sleep please

- Pansexual mb for my lil queer soul?

- my (probably) final request is just for you to ramble about something, i don't really care what

- HI ILY CONGRATS AS WELL CAUSE IM LATE BUT CONGRATS. could i request a pirates of the caribbean (or just pirates) or whatever you what to do, free range.

- mood board for the beluga whales who got brought to the animal sanctuary in Iceland please?

- 100 follower request: Moodboard for my stuffed cow Oaky?

#cai's 200 #asks #mininacl

21 notes · View notes

simpsiren · 5 years ago

Text

trailer of you

park jisung x reader

main masterlist

description. “Will a 30 second trailer really tell you everything you need to know about a person and know what you’re getting yourself into?” The only question that resonates in my head after my smooth relationship with the guy next door started to get rocky. Judging from his trailer, he seemed normal at first glance. Should I even open my heart to him? I trusted him too quickly with his baby face and sweet words, only to find him hurt my heart with his expertly hidden agenda.

genre. college!au, trailer!au, strangers to lovers!au, betrayal but soon get back together typa au cudndjdn

warnings. nonee

a/n. as you can probably tell the idea came from the 30 seconds trailer trend on tiktok and i liked the concept so i wanted to try it out! this is my first time writing jisung HAHA other than that this is going to be a long ass ff so buckle up! :D

“Did you know?”

I groaned as I heard Jaemin speak. “Dont tell me you have another mind blowing discovery fact that I just had to know.” I waved my hands around in the air jokingly as i kept my back towards Jaemin and continue writing my essay on my laptop.

I’ve been friends with Na Jaemin for a long time. Probably too long. Ever since I got to meet him in high school due to being in the same mathematics class and sitting next to each other almost everyday, it didn’t take the two us long to become close and soon, best friends.

Of course the two best friends decided to attend the same college together. At the very least, not all our classes were the same. The only class Jaemin and I signed up together was psychology, since we both shared an interest in that field. Apart from that, we went about pursuing our other interests. For me, it was modern dance while Jaemin decided to take some class about Geography, a subject I just seem to never come to like.

To top it off, we got a room in college together as well. Might seem weird to others since almost everyone shares a room with the same gender but then again, it felt completely normal for us.

On days like these where the two of us ended our classes around the same time, we would usually stay in for the day and just hang out.

“So you know how the room beside us is empty?” Jaemin sat up from his bed while I spun my chair around to face him. I rolled your eyes clearly at him, making him snicker.

“It’s not another ghost story i swear!” Jaemin lifted his arms up in the air in defence. I chuckled and raises my eyebrows, motioning him to continue and elaborate.

“I found out that a new student apparently enrolled.” Jaemin sayed nonchalantly, moving to the edge of the wall and letting his back lean on it.

I shrugged. “So?”

Jaemin folded his arms and gave me an unimpressed look.

“High chance he or she will move in next door.” Jaemin clicked his tongue. I turned my chair back to face my desk and resumed typing on my keyboard.

“Not to be rude, Jaemin, but that fact is practically irrelevant to me.” I mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. “Who knows?! He or she might get possessed by the spirit lingering in that room!” Jaemin retorted. I heard the bed creaking as he stood up and took two wide steps to reach my desk, his hand placed on the headrest of my chair and having him bent down beside me.

“You said this wasn't another ghost story.” I bore my eyes at Jaemin. I shook my head and pressed my finger down on the period key, signalling the end of my paragraph for today. I let out a sigh of satisfaction as I used my mouse to scroll through my essay, scanning over my sentences and paragraphs briefly before proceeding to shut down my laptop.

“I get that you hear banging on the walls but that happens in basically every apartment.” I added on, standing up from my chair and walking to the kitchen to find something to eat in the fridge. Jaemin followed closely behind me.

“Okay yes well apart from that...” Jaemin pauses for a moment while I went to the fridge and pulled out a packet of KitKat. As i peel the wrapper off, I jerk my head up with raised brows. “That...” I repeated his last word to signal him to finish his sentence. “We should make friends with him or her.”

I kept silent as I started to think about Jaemin’s idea. Making friends? It’s not my thing, never has either. The only person I would consider to be my friend is Jaemin. Other people whom i’ve met were just merely people I consider acquaintances. College was no different. Jaemin is clearly the more outgoing among the two of us. Having plenty of friends and quite high of a social status within the college. It was he who had to force me to socialise by bringing me to parties or outings with his friends, though the only group of friends he have that i seem to get along with decently are his hockey friends.

“I guess that’ll be okay?” I reply, the tone of doubt that i tried to hide away somehow shined through. Jaemin pat my head as I break the KitKat into two, unconsciously giving Jaemin the other half and taking a bite of mine. “It will be. Remember, I’m always there to guide you if you feel the awkwardness” Jaemin reassures me, lifting his half of the KitKat in the air before taking a bite. He grins happily, a feature of his I will never get tired of. His ray of sunshine and liveliness has always been a vital part of our friendship. I truly appreciate the fact that he always has a happy aura around him to get me through college.

“Do you know when the student’s moving in?” I ask, leaning my hip against the kitchen counter. Jaemin copied my posture and nodded his head. “I heard from Jeno that they’ll be moving in tomorrow.” Jaemin quickly finished his KitKat and washed his hand. I wasn’t even half done through my stick.

Shaking off the excess water on his hands, Jaemin walks back to the kitchen counter. “I’ll text you when I end for the day and we can meet him together.” I only shrug my shoulders in response, finally finishing the stick and throwing the plastic wrapper into the trashcan and washing my hands. I heard Jaemin’s footsteps going away from me as I assumed he went to the living room, hearing the television switching on.

I took my seat beside Jaemin as he opened up Netflix, browsing through different movies we could watch on our free day. “We can see his trailer as well. I really hope it’s not boring like many others.”

In my opinion, all the trailers of the people I came into contact with were really boring. It didn’t seemed to peak an interest in me and I overall felt that I wouldn’t be able to fit myself into their life as my life just didn’t seem to fit well with theirs. Jaemin was the only one who had a trailer whom I found interesting and I immediately thought that I could be close to him. Hence, becoming best friends.

“You’re just way too unique. Honestly when I saw your trailer it made me think Looks like I'm the only one who can fit into her lifestyle. And now look. I’m your only best friend.” I smacked Jaemin in the chest, making him let out a wince in pain. Lucky for him, he was used to my beatings and recovered right away.

I shook my head as a waved a finger in front of him. “Nuh-uh yours was as weird as mine. You don't know know how skeptical I was watching your trailer.” I retorted with a scoff.

I tried making myself comfortable while Jaemin was still browsing the movie section. With impatience taking over my body, I snatched the controller away from him and decided to choose a horror movie that had an interesting cover with an intriguing synopsis.

“Both our trailers were weird, and that’s why we’re a match made in heaven.”

“No shit, dork.” I lay my head on Jaemin’s shoulder as the two of us grew silent and paying our attention onto the tv screen.

Classes today went by as usual. Not surprised by the fact that I received my results for my History of Architecture test and earning an A+. It always felt so good when my hard work of staying up and having daily night long sessions of completing workload paid off. Well, it was mainly my determination but also Jaemin’s ability to get me my milk tea from Liho that pushed me through those sleepless nights.

I finally ended my last class. I was packing up my stuff when someone bumped into me, i assumed accidentally as he walked away without even reacting to the fact that he bumped into me and caused me to drop my pencil case and having my stationery falling out.

I scoffed in amusement. “Rude, much?” I mumbled to myself as I brought my gaze upwards from the floor to see the back of the person who caused me this mess.

He was wearing a black backpack and a black jean jacket which had green accents on it, along with black jeans and a pair of Classic Old Skool Vans. I creased my forehead as I quickly shrugged it off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it and went back to packing my bag.

“You sound annoyed. Sorry i guess.” My eyes blinked rapidly as I heard a voice. I knew from the guy who bumped into me as i heard his footsteps coming back to my direction.

It irritated me how he sounded arrogant and had a somewhat husky voice. Though I thought it was the kind of voice where the owner of it would be bright and lively like Jaemin, but dangerous once you anger them. I wanted to take a look at his face but he was soon out of my sight as he exited the classroom.

While i was walking out of class and making my way down the halls, I took out my phone and texted Jaemin to ask where he’s at. After not receiving a reply, which was odd since he has always been able to reply my texts in the matter of seconds, I only assumed he had an important matter to attend to or his class was being extended. So, I decided to head back to our room.

I unlocked the door and headed inside, tossing my bag onto the chair near my desk and throwing myself onto my bed, letting out a long sigh as i felt the comfort of my bed, grabbing my stuffed toy fox to indulge myself with even more comfort.

Bringing out my phone that I had in my hand, I got comfortable in my bed and started to play on my phone till Jaemin finally sent me a reply. I opened the chat instantly.

nAnA 😤🙄✌️: Hey sorry for not replying. Class got extended. I’m heading back to our room. You’re there right?

y/n: yeah i am. see you soon dork <3

I put my phone under my pillow as I look down to my fluffy stuffed toy fox. I got lost in its beaded eyes as i start wondering about how the person next door is like. More importantly, how his or her trailer would look like. What kind of moments would the trailer show that could describe their life story in 30 seconds?

My thoughts got cut off when i heard the door open, knowing it was Jaemin. He closes the door behind him and throws his bag off to the side of his bed and walking towards me to take a seat at the edge of my bed. I knew he was about to tell me about how we should be going to meet our new neighbour but before he opened his mouth, I lifted my hand up to put his words on hold.

“Do you even know what time he or she ends today?” I asked, sitting up straight and hugging my stuffed toy close to my chest.

“Firstly, it’s a male. Secondly, I found out that he’s in the same elective as Mark, he told me that it’s their last class for the day so they should be finished by now.” Jaemin rambled on as he glanced at the time on his phone’s home screen.

“You seriously have way too many connections with way too many people.”

Jaemim chuckled. “It’s not wrong to have connections that would never fail to benefit you.”

I shrugged and pushed Jaemin off my bed so i could get up, planting a quick kiss on my stuff toy before placing it neatly in front of my pillow. I looked towards the body length mirror in between the two beds to adjust my clothes. I then tilt my head up to Jaemin. “Shall we go then?”

Jaemin nodded. I grabbed my usual essentials as Jaemin opened the door for me and we headed out.

It only took us about 6 steps to reach the room where our unknown neighbour lies behind the door. However, I also started wondering if he’s even in his room or not. Who knows? He could be busy and hasn’t arrived yet.

Regardless, Jaemin took the initiative to knock on his door. The two of us could only wait silently as we didn’t seem to get an immediate answer. Jaemin bobbed his shoulders and knocked on the door one more time. We waited, again, longer than previously.

I was about to open your mouth to tell Jaemin that he’s probably not in his room until he puts a finger in front of me as he leaned towards the door. I paused my actions as I could hear footsteps from the other side of the door coming close.

Finally the door opens, revealing a blonde haired guy who looked like he had just woken up from his slumber. His eyes were half opened as he rubbed one of them with his hand while the other hand ran through his hair. He shakes his head as he widened his eyes to focus on the two strangers in front of him.

I scanned him up and down. Taking notes on his posture, actions and appearance. As my eyes went down, I took a look at his outfit. It matched to the guy who bumped into me at the end of class.

“Quinn?” He asked while he yawned. I tilted my head in confusion.

“Oh you know Quinn?” Jaemin asked back, surprised as he pointed his finger at you.

He looked taken aback for awhile trying to process the situation. I started wondering how he knew my name.

“Uh yeah. I’m in her Architecture class.”

“But how do you know-“

“I saw your name on your notebook when i bumped into you.”

Jaemin cocked an eyebrow as he noticed an unknown tension.

“So what’s your name? Im Na Jaemin, and as you know, she’s Quinn.” Jaemin introduced, his hand gesturing to me. I barely bowed my head to greet him. “Park Jisung.” Jisung introduced himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. It made a clear voiceless statement that he didn’t want to shake our hands or have any form of contact.

“We live next door to you so i guess we’ll be seeing each other often. Especially Quinn.”

Jisung doesn’t reply, constantly switching gazes between me and Jaemin, probably having the same idea as us. Jaemin however was the first one to speak up. “Could we... perhaps watch your trailer?”

“I’d like to see yours as well.” Jisung jerks in head towards us. Jaemin and I nodded, proceeding to do the same actions as Jisung to reveal our trailers.

Putting his index and middle finger in the air, he places them beside his head and swiftly bends it forward slightly. That resulted in a see through screen popping up from his head.

Jisung watched Jaemin’s trailer first, reaching his hand out towards his screen and pressing the play button.

Jaemin and I exchanged glances before clicking on the play button for Jisung’s 30 second trailer to begin.

While Jisung was looking at Jaemin’s trailer, I noticed a few things.

Honestly speaking, what i was seeing in the trailer didnt exactly match the person whose standing in front of me. The trailer showed a lot of moments where he smiled, eyes forming into a thin line and a scrunched up nose whenever he does. It showed him doing what I assumed to be hobbies like dancing and playing video games.

I thought about how Jisung and I have a common love for dance, something I hold dearly and thought it would be a great way to get close to him. I just have that common connection with dancers, since they know things about dance that's unique which others don't.

I only saw one group of friends around him. They seemed like the group of friends who are always chaotic and would have play fights with each other almost every second, but that was what showed me that Jisung had a close relationship with them. It was heartwarming to watch.

I also saw him trying to cook in the kitchen. I see a few of the same friends in the kitchen with him. Only one of them seemed decent in cooking while Jisung was practically clueless. It made me laugh softly. I found it cute how he’s dorky and clueless.

As i finished watching the trailer, taking into account all the moments that showed who Jisung really is, he seemed like someone i could vibe with. Someone I could possibly be my quirky crazy self like how I am around Jaemin. The person in front of me may not seem like the one in the trailer, but it made me think that he’s like me, someone who can't open up to others at first glance.

When Jaemin knews that Jisung has completed his trailer, Jaemin gave a questioning look towards him. “So how’s my trailer?”

“You’re weird, looked drunk most of the time but i assume its due to the coffee that you consume an unhealthy amount of everyday.”

Jaemin laughs nervously. “But I like you, don't worry.”

I saw Jisung’s smiling. The warm smile I saw in the trailer.

The next trailer he had to watch was mine. For some reason, I felt nervous thinking about all his possible reactions. Would he be fine with it? Would he be disgusted or irritated by the moments in my trailer. Will he not think that I would be able to make good friends with him like how I thought about him?

I guess my nervousness showed through my actions when i felt Jaemin patting the lower part of my back. I turn towards Jaemin who nodded his head to show a sign to reassurance as Jisung extended his hand to play my trailer.

Jisung’s reaction was skeptical. Some parts had him make a soft smile, which was great while other times he had a serious and judgy expression. It looked like reactions that you made while watching other people’s trailers.

30 seconds went by fast and the see through screens above our heads all dissolved into thin air at the same time. “What do you think? Wanna hang out with us more?” I brushed a few strands of hair behind my ear.

Jisung hummed softly. “Sure, looks like i'll have fun with you guys.”

Jaemin and I grin in unison. At least I finally had someone whom I might be able to consider my friend. It was too quick to assume that, but I just have a feeling and Jisung and I would get along pretty well.

As time flew by, Jisung started to get closer and closer to me and Jaemin. More so to me. After a day out where the three of us went to check out a new restaurant that just opened a few blocks away, Jisung started to invite me to go out with him alone. I felt a little bad on our days out since it meant for Jaemin to be excluded, but he was always cool with him, opting to stay in the room or hanging out with his other groups of friends.

Today on a Saturday night was no different.

“You heading out with Jisung again?” I hummed in reply as Jaemin appeared behind me. Only his chest down could be seen in the mirror in front of me as i wore my earrings while sitting down at my dressing table.

“Where to this time? You seem to be dressing up classier than usual.” Jaemin commented, brushing my hair through his hands gently as he took a good look at my outfit and makeup.

I looked at him in the mirror, letting out a soft, “I don't know.” Jaemin’s eyebrow twitches as he looked as me with suspicion.

Jaemin leaned forward, his face alighting with mine side by side. “He better not do shit to you, or else I’m killing him.” Jaemin’s eyes grew dark and his voice became low and husky. I shivered, not seeing this side of Jaemin often since I was never in a situation where he had to be protective.

I turned my head to the side and push his face away, earning a frown from Jaemin. “I’m going to fine. He said he wanted to surprise me so...” I shrugged, standing up from the dressing table and packing my essentials up in a small sling bag.

“Got any plans tonight?” I asked Jaemin as I slid my phone into my back pocket.

Jaemin bobbed his shoulders with a slight smile on his face. “I might be going out with someone.” Jaemin whispers softly, looking down and fidgeting with his feet.

I smirked widely. It was no doubt the suspicion in my mind was right. “Keep me updated on her, alright? Have fun!” I said to Jaemin as I checked the things in my sling bag one last time and winking at Jaemin playfully to which he responded with a chuckle before exiting the room.

Jisung and I have been walking down a street for awhile now. I was met with unknown shops left and right. Clearly this place was quite secluded and out of public view. Despite me exploring the town near college, it was only now that i found out this place existed thanks to Jisung.

“Just where are you taking me?” I asked with a soft laugh.

Jisung suddenly stopped in his tracks and swung his body to face me. I tilted my head at his sudden behaviour. Jisung motioned to a shop on the left. I looked towards Jisung’s direction. It didn't have a sign above it nor a window where i could see what was inside. “Come on. I’ll show you.” Jisung interlocked his fingers with mine, something we have grown to do as friends. Our friendship eventually grew to be more physical as time went on.

Jisung opened the door ahead for me, gesturing me to walk in. As i stepped inside, my mouth gaped open. The shop was filled with books. Book on shelves, on tables for display. It was like I entered paradise made for me. I flashed a wide smile over to Jisung, who tightened his grip on my hand.

“I knew how much you liked reading. So I did some research and found this place. I heard all the books have been hand picked by the owner.”

I didnt reply, only laughing in excitement as I looked around the tiny shop, immediately going to a random shelve and picking out a book that had an interesting cover.

While reading the synopsis behind a book, I whispered softly, “Why bring me here when it’s not your place of interest?”

Jisung breathed sharply as he let out a quick sigh. “I wanted to do something for you. That’s all.” Jisung replied simply, shrugging as if what he did was just a small gesture. I, however, thought it was a huge gesture. It showed me that he cared. The fact that he went to research for a place I have never heard of and would like.

“Ever heard of The Wrath and the Dawn?,” I asked, pulling it out from the shelve immediately when I recognised its spine. Jisung shook his head. I chuckle, passing the book to Jisung. He took it into his hands, not sure what to do with it.

“Read it. I know you don't like reading, but this book really changed things for me.” Jisung hummed, holding the book up in the air with a subtle smile.

I browsed through the store, quickly picking out two books that seemed interesting to me as I didn't want to bore Jisung any longer by having to put up with me checking every book in the store.

Just as I was about to take out cash from my wallet, Jisung placed a hand on mine that was in my wallet. I looked up to meet Jisung’s eyes.

“I’ll pay.”

“But you pay for everything on every single outing we went together-”

“You know you cant fight me on this. Put the wallet away.”

I pouted, making him let out a laugh as I slid my wallet back into my sling bag. He payed for the three books, two of mine and the book I recommended him to read. I took a good look at him while he had a small chat with the cashier and owner.

The way he smiled and laugh. I started to think about the times I’ve spent with Jisung. The fact that I was able to open up to him quickly and have conversations I never thought i would have after meeting someone after less than a year. The deep conversations we would have, in person or on the phone late at night while Jaemin was asleep. He saw me in states where i felt all the more cautious about. My intense breakdowns due to stress which could only be treated with Jaemin’s comfort as well as kind words that had immense impact from Jisung over the phone. We shared dark secrets as well. Looking back at these moments made me felt something I never did. It was similar to how i felt towards Jaemin, but very different.

“Quinn?” My thoughts were cut off with Jisung’s voice. I shook my head off the thoughts and proceeded to head out of the shop, offering to carry the books but of course Jisung insisted on holding them.

We decided to head back to college grounds and hang out in Jisung’s room. The place was secluded and dimly lit, only the library was opened for students who wanted to study there overnight.

“Can i ask something?” Jisung paused the video about the funny moments of Seventeen on his laptop, turning his is body to face me. “Hm?” I let out, frowning at the fact that he paused the video at my favourite part.

“Have you ever been in love?”

A question I have never had a proper encounter of it. I hugged my knees near my chest as I took a sip of iced peach tea in a can that we got from a vending machine near the cafeteria. “I don't think so? I did date Jaemin once, but we were kids and barely knew what love was.”

I let out a soft sigh, “I’m still unsure of it... even now.”

Jisung flashed me a subtle smile. I felt soothed by just that. “Never did I, either.” He pauses for a moment before continuing.

“But if I had to guess... I’d say that love is a feeling where you feel yourself wanting to be better around that particular person. You start to act so dumb around them to make them laugh and you start finding out what they like and dislike, to make sure all that person could feel were butterflies and rainbows.”

I started to think about his words. Butterflies and rainbows. Something I’ve always felt whenever I’m with Jisung. No matter what state of emotion I was in, it felt as if he knew me well and knew what to do to make me feel better. I started to find myself wanting to look better around him, dressing up to make myself more presentable as usual. I even have his Liho order etched into my mind every time we went to Liho to get milk teas.

“And you know what’s funny?”

“What?”

Jisung took in a deep breath before letting out a loud sigh, chuckling to himself as he shook his head, his blonde fringe falling down his forehead to frame his face perfectly.

“The fact that I feel all those things whenever I’m with you.”

I froze in my spot with my muscles suddenly becoming stiff. My mind went blank as his words were repeated. How do i even react? What do I say? Do i tell him I feel the same? But that would mean he thinks I like him and I should be in a relationship with him but I’m clearly not prepared for that yet.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

My frown deepened. I wanted to say something. I couldn’t just leave his words hanging with no proper conclusion to the conversation. It was sort of my habit to have everything laid on the table so I could get a clear look at the situation.

“I feel the same... but I’m scared of getting involved in a relationship.”

I watched as Jisung forced a smile. I knew it was forced. This smile was different from the one he would have every time he take a bite of his favourite chocolate ice cream. He nodded his head, telling me that he understood my feelings.

“I get it. We’ve only been friends for less than a year. When i watched your trailer, I had a feeling you weren’t one for relationships.”

I was about to open my mouth to speak, but my words were stuck in my throat. A second passed before I could form my sentence properly. “I mean I’m open to it but you’re kind of right. I want to give us more time.”

I heard him sigh. I could tell he was disheartened yet he’s trying his best to stay together. I felt a sharp pain in my heart as he chuckled to himself.

“It’s fine. I can wait. Just as long as I’m not waiting for nothing.”

I could purse my lips into a thin line. Slowly but surely, I brough my hand up to brush away strands of hair that covered his eyes. He lifts his eyes up, but they were unable to meet mine.

“I promise. I see myself with you in the future.”

“Quinn~” Jaemin called out to me while i was playing with my phone while laying down on my bed.

“What?” I asked, my back still facing him.

I heard Jaemin’s bed creak as he stood up to take a seat at the edge of my bed. He gently places a hand on my head and caress my hair. I turned my body and looked up to face him, obviously weirded out by how nice he was being.

“Are you seriously babying me so that I would go to the frat party?” I rolled my eyes. Jaemin’s intentions were always too obvious whenever he gets all soft and sweet with me.

As Jaemin is my best friend, I knew his habits. One of them being that if I didn't agree with him on something, he would pamper me as much as possible as a way to convince me with anything that was on his mind. And with his puppy dog eyes and cuteness, you could imagine how hard it was for me not to fall for his trap.

“Yes, yes I am.” I gave Jaemin a look of disinterest. He knows I dislike going to parties. And he knows how hard it is to persuade me to go. Yet he never gave up. The next thing he said however, intrigued me immediately and started to take his idea into consideration.

“Jisung’s gonna be there.” Jaemin shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but I knew he was thinking about how he’s winning me over. I blinked my eyes once as i gave a blank expression. I then pouted my lips and sat up straight. Jaemin’s eyes literally sparkled the moment I did so.

“When is it?” I heaved a sigh in defeat, rubbing my face with my right hand. “This Sunday.” Jaemin answered immediately out of excitement.

Though I had my focus on the conversation with Jaemin, my mind also wondered off to thinking about food. I was seriously craving take out right now. “It’ll be fun! Come on, we’ve just finished out exams. You’ve been stressed enough. You should go out more.” Jaemin added on.

While listening to Jaemin talk, I opened the app Grab Food on my phone. As i scrolled through the different places near the college and browsing through different menus, Jaemin let out a quick, “Plus, it was Jisung’s idea to invite you.”

“Did he now?”

Jaemin hummed as he leaned near me to have a peek of my phone. “Take out?” He asked, with his tone was bright and happy. I nodded my head.

“We seriously think so alike.” I gave Jaemin a subtle smile before Jaemin and I ended up looking through the menus together. While Jaemin decided on what to order, I couldn't help but feel somewhat nervous about the party on Sunday. Would I really be fine? I’ll have Jaemin, though I assume he can't be around me 24/7 due to his social nature. The only hope I had that would best help me get through the night was Jisung.

Jaemin and I entered the frat party. And I already hate it here. I wasn't even five steps in when a stranger hands me a red plastic cup filled with beer. The huge crowd and very limited space, the loud banging music, though I only appreciate listening to them on my earphones and the amount of talking and screaming that filled the room. Of course it had to be topped off with the reeking smell of alcohol.

“I’ll find Jisung for you, alright? I’m going to meet my hockey friends after.” Jaemin said, keeping his arm around you shoulder to make sure you were close and protected near him.

I only nodded nervously. I honestly wished I could just magically vanish myself out of here and in the room with a book. But I never want to disappoint Jaemin by leaving the party that he tried so desperately for me to come, so I made a clear decision in my head to put up with it and prayed that nothing would happen to me.

Jaemin kept me very close as we walked through the crowd, people bumping into at every direction. “Jisung-ah!” Jaemin shouted. Jisung didn’t seem to hear his call. He was about to shout again when out of nowhere, one of Jaemin’s friends pulled him away from me. I opened my mouth, wanting to call out to him but he soon disappeared into the crowd. I did however see his hand waving up high above the crowd and giving me a hand sign of a phone to signal me to call him if anything happened.

I groaned and rolled my eyes, looking down at the cup of beer in my hands. Shrugging, I took a small sip. I wasn't much of a drinker, but tonight - tonight was the only exception, using alcohol as a way to release the pent up stress that have been bottling up inside me during the exams.

“Hi!” I suddenly heard. I turned my back to see who it was. Oh no, was all i thought as I stared at the girl whom I dislike. The girl who broke Jaemin’s heart.

“Hey, Ji A” I mumbled back. I tried to give her a half-smile. I felt myself tensing up at the thought of starting a conversation with someone I held a slight grudge against.

“What do you think of the party?” I blinked at her. I kept quiet for a moment before answering with a soft. “It’s fine.”

I was about to burst if she ever think she can hold a conversation with me right now. She knew very well what she did to Jaemin, as well as the fact that I’m his best friend. I couldn't get how she could act as if nothing happened in the past and putting it all behind her like it meant nothing and did not result in a single impact on her.

“I was thinking about asking you if you wanna-”

“Hey, baby.” I heard the familiar voice that made me let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Baby? That’s definitely a first.

I felt Jisung’s arm slide around my waist swiftly as he pulled me close. I would be lying if I said that my heart didn’t quickened as butterflies started fluttering in the bottom of my stomach. I only prayed that my cheeks were not blushing a bright pink. To make matters worse, Jisung leaned down to plant a quick kiss on the side of my eye as he fakely smiled towards Ji A.

“You need another drink, don’t you?” I looked up at Jisung, slightly confused. As he raised his eyebrows and jerked his head slightly, I immediately received his signal that told me to play along as he sent some telepathy message that he was trying to save me from my uncomfortable situation with Ji A. “Uh... y-yeah of course.”

“Sorry but please excuse us. We’re going to be a little busy upstairs soon.”

I wasn't sure if this was the real Jisung, or the alcohol that I assumed he has consumed to be talking. I was definitely shocked by how bold he was since he has always seemed to be the shy type to me.

Ji A looked at us with a smug face, clicking her tongue and huffing in amusement. “Sure, go ahead, Have fun.” She said with annoyance before walking away with her arms folded. Jisung kept his hand on my waist, not to tightly nor loosely either as he led me to a space in the house that was away fro the large crowd that was gathering for who knows what reason.

“You seem to not like that girl.” Jisung bent down to whispered near my ear in an attempt to overpower the loud music in the background. I pursed my lips into a thin line and hummed. “If there’s anyone I would throw under a bus, it would be her.”

Jisung replied with a smile and a chuckle. “I know you have plenty of other people you would like to do that to.” And it was true. Due to my judgy nature, I would judge anyone that came into my sight. And if i sensed that I didn’t like their attitude, I would never fail to whisper to Jisung or Jaemin that i dislike them at first glance.

“Did you drink?” I asked Jisung, noticing how his breath reeked of beer yet he was his usual self. “Yeah. Had a few but I have a high tolerance.” My mouth formed an ‘ah’ as i nodded.

Out of the blue, Jisung spun my around, this time placing both his hands on my waist as my body was now facing his. Not to mention there wasn't a single inch of space between our chests’.

“You look cute whenever you’re pissed.”

I rolled my eyes, faking my exasperation. “Ho ho wanna see some real annoyance?” I raised both my eyebrows as I gave Jisung an intimidating smile. Jisung shook his head, looking down before matching my gaze with his again. “Please save that for tomorrow.”

I laughed softly. Jisung then looked around the house, as if trying to find someone. He lets out a soft “Ah. Found them.” I hummed as I looked around as well, wondering who he found.

Jisung released on hand from my waist and walked me over to a group of guys. My vision only became clear when the crowd that was blocking my view went away, revealing Jaemin as well as his group of hockey friends. I smiled at the familiar faces before me as they all shouted my name and urged Jisung and I to seat with them.

“You know them?”

Jisung only shrugged, taking a seat beside Mark and gesturing me to sit down next to him. “I met them through Jaemin.” I looked over to Jaemin, who was laughing hysterically and punching Winwin’s arm, who immediately turned to him to fight back. Clearly they were drunk. I wasn’t surprised at all.

I laughed when I turned my attention over to Jaehyun, the guy in my Psychology class. The way he only sat there, unbothered by the chaos surrounding him radiated couldn’t care less energy.

“You guys seem pretty drunk.” I commented.

Jaehyun chuckled lowly and tilted his head to Jaemin and Winwin who were fighting, eventually having Lucas joining in as well, along with Taeyong trying his best to keep the situation at bay but has soon given up. “You think?”

I let out a long sigh as the little sips of alcohol I have been taking from the moment I stepped in until now started to kick in. My head started to get dizzy as my vision became slightly blurred.

I lay my head down on Jisung’s shoulder. I felt Jisung’s eyes on me. “You need to go to a room or something?” Jisung whispered. I frowned.

“You think i should?” I mumbled softly with my head turning in multiple directions to find a comfortable position on the crook of Jisung’s neck. I breathed in his scent. You would think his body smelt like alcohol but his perfume was still standing strong, putting me at ease.

Jisung tightened his grip around ms, pulling me closer so that my body layed comfortably on his.

I could tell that the others, especially Jaemin were worried about me when he shouted a, “Bro she good?” to Jisung.

“She can use my room if you wan-“

“I’ll take her back to her room.” Jisung cut Jaehyun off. My eyes were now half opened as I saw Jaemin tossing the room key to Jisung, who caught it swiftly.

“Take care of her.” Was the last thing I heard before fully closing my eyes and passing out.

I woke up, taking awhile to process my surroundings due to the banging in my head from all the alcohol. As I took into consideration the items and furniture of the room, I quickly concluded that I was in Jisung’s room. Jisung, however, was nowhere to be seen.

I patted my hands at the space around me, desperately trying to find my phone. I eventually found it within the covers, pulling it out and looking at the time on my lockscreen. 4:16 AM. I stared at the time. Where was Jisung at this timing? Could he still be at the party?

I tried recalling what happened before I passed out and remembered that Jisung was about to bring me to his room. So what i remembered was practically useless and didn’t benefit me in knowing Jisung’s current location. Great.

I groaned as I pressed a hand on my head, praying to God that my headache would come to an end soon. Though I highly doubt that as I knew from my past experiences of getting drunk that it takes me a very long time to sober up, meaning that I predicted that I would be in a hangover for quite some time.

I heard the door open. My eyes remained on the bedsheets as I assumed it was Jisung who entered the room. My assumption was soon proven wrong when I heard the sound of high heels clacking against the wooden floor, the sound coming closer and closer to me.

I looked up and tried my best to adjust my vision as I squinted my eyes. The figure, poster and clothes. Without a doubt, it was Ji A.

“So he left you here with the door unlocked and no one protecting you? Not surprised.”

“What?” I whispered, raising an eyebrow at Ji A. Just what was she doing here? How did she know where Jisung’s room was? What does she want from me?

“Hey. Lemme tell you one thing while I can tell you’re still hungover.” Ji A placed her weight on one leg as she puts a hand on her waist. I started feeling irritated again, but I was way too weak to even bother putting up a fight.

Ji A bent down to meet my eye level. The signature smirk that lit a fire in me appeared on her lips as her eyes looking down on me unsympathetically.

“You ever wonder why Jisung has been way too nice to you? How he was been nothing but perfect in the way he treated you and how you two just never seem to have gotten into a fight once in your single year of friendship?”

I used one hand to rub my face. What is Ji A going on about?

I took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry?”

“Buckle up, honey. All the butterflies and rainbows you have been experiencing with him will all be ruined by a storm he’ll be sending in not too long from now.” I heard Ji A chuckle in a devil-like manner.

As I started to process her words, my thoughts became clear and my suspicion started to peak. “The fuck are you talking about, Ji A?” I asked as I cleared my throat. I didn’t get a reply as I watch her laugh and leaving the room.

I scratched my head furiously as I tried digging further into her words to find the true meaning behind it. Was she trying to threaten me? What “storm” was Jisung about to bring upon me? As more questions filled my mind, I found it too much for my hungover state to take in. I ended up falling asleep after looking at my phone meaninglessly.

I felt a finger or two gliding over my jawline. My eyes were closed but I immediately sensed that Jisung was sitting at the edge of the bed. I fluttered my eyes open as Jisung came into my view.

“Sweetheart, how you feeling?” Jisung asked in his gentle, calming voice that always helped to soothe me. Oddly this time, it didn’t. And I knew it was because of the weird encounter I had with Ji A before I went back to sleep.

I sat up from bed weakly, falling back slightly but having Jisung hold me up and I shook my head, placing my hand on the back of my neck.

“Hey, you need to rest.” Jisung said, trying to put my body back down on the bed but I fought back. Ji A’s words about Jisung started to repeat itself in my head. Out of pure distrust that I suddenly developed towards Jisung, I pushed him away and forced myself to stand up.

I saw Jisung standing up and holding his hands out, getting ready to catch me in case I fall while I staggered to the door. “Get back in bed. I bought hangover soup for you-“

“Just...” I placed my hand on the doorknob, turning my head around to face Jisung who had an extremely worried look on his face. “Just get away from me.” I whispered, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door.

I headed out of Jisung’s room and made my way over to mine. Before I could open my door, I heard Jisung’s footsteps coming towards me as he stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “What’s wrong? D-did something happen?” Jisung stuttered, surprised by my sudden attitude towards him.

I yanked his hand off me and opened the door, seeing Jaemin on his bed with widened eyes as he saw my weak body at the door. He rushed over to me. “Quinn? Jisung...”

“Get the hell out of my sight, Jisung.” I raised my voice ever so slightly. Jaemin heard my words and furrowed his eyebrows towards Jisung.

“The fuck did you do to her?” Jaemin asked, his tone growing dark and intimidating.

“I-I dont know she just woke up and told me to back off-“

“I’m finding out what you did to her. And once I do, it’s game over for you.” Jaemin threatened Jisung as he brought me in by supporting my body with his hand around my waist and closing the door quietly in consideration of the state I was in.

Jaemin carried me to my bed and placed me down gently. I rubbed my eyes with my hands as I looked up to Jaemin, who had his arms folded and standing still.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jaemin asked, his voice becoming soft and gentle as he took a seat on my bed. I sat up from the bed and placed my head on his lap, my head digging into his chest.

“Not now... please.” My voice got muffle as tears started to flow out of my eyes. As much as I want to hide it, my body didn’t let me. Jaemin felt his shirt getting wet and immediately started to caress my head slowly, letting out a soft, “Sh sh..” to calm me down. I continued to sob and cry as I got vulnerable in Jaemin’s embrace, eventually crying myself to sleep, wanting to forget everything that happened before and needing to rest my mind for at least a few hours.

I woke up once again. This time, the sunlight that shined through the thin curtains of the room made me wince as I looked at my surroundings which has now became fully clear.

I realised I was still laying my head on Jaemin’s lap. I noticed how he was in an uncomfortable position with his back against the wall and his head hanging downwards. I sat up and poked his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. Luckily it worked and Jaemin rubbed his eyes before fully opening them and looking at the side to face me.

“Your eyes are all puffy, love.” Jaemin said with a subtle smile, reaching his hand out and gently brushing his thumb over the bottom of my eyes. I chuckled softly. “Did I cry that much last night?” Jaemin nodded. I let out a long sigh.

“Care to tell me what happened last night with Jisung?” Jaemin motioned me to get close to him. I got near and wrapped my arms around him as I was indulged in his cuddles. “I was at Jisung’s room. I don't know why he wasn’t there, but suddenly Ji A came into the room.”

I could tell Jaemin was taken aback since he didn’t give an immediate reply. “Ji A?” He finally spoke. I hummed in reply. Jaemin clicked his tongue and kept silent. He was thinking about his past relationship with Ji A but still signaled me to continue the story.

“For some reason, she threatened me. She said that my relationship with Jisung is going to get wrecked soon. I don't know what she meant by that.” Jaemin eyes started to fill with anger as I felt him balling his first against my shirt. Though he tried to stay calm and wanting to make me feel better is his top priority , I could tell he was furious. “The bitch really did that?” Jaemin muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Wait how did she even know where Jisung’s room was?” I suddenly question as I started to get deep in my thoughts. That fact was odd, but the answer was obvious. “Those two probably knew each other.” Jaemin quickly replied.

Does a 30 second trailer really tell me everything I need to know about a person? That question started to resonate in my head now that I thought of what Jisung could be doing. I started to think whether is actions were pure and sincere. Could there be a hidden agenda as to why he’s been oh so nice to me just like Ji A said? She could have told me that just to make me feel insecure. But at the same time, what if it was true?

“Tell me what to do, Nana. I seriously don't know what to think right now.” I whined to Jaemin, whose face was as still stern and scary after I mentioned Ji A.

“Maybe act normal around him first, like nothing happened. While I go spying on him and Ji A.” Jaemin said with a wide smirk. I immediately laughed, giving him a light smack on his chest. “You can’t be serious.” I said back, shaking my head.

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows and pouted. “Hello! We can’t ask Jisung straight up. We need to be discreet.” Jaemin jokes. I swear Jaemin could make me laugh at his dorkiness in any situation.

“I might just ignore him, to be honest. I’ve been hanging out with him too much. I want to spend more time with you.” I said, reaching my hand out to ruffle Jaemin’s perfectly soft hair.

Jaemin gave me a few pats on my back. “Good that you’ve realised it now. I’ve been lonely without you.” I gave a subtle yet sincere smile.

I cocked an eyebrow at Jaehyun’s words. What is he even thinking?

Jaehyun leaned in close, looking around to check if anyone’s watching. “Jisung keeps pressuring me to tell you to talk to him and I know you’re avoiding him but I can’t take it no more.” He grumbled. I placed a hand on my forehead and let out a long sigh. “Tell him to give up.” was all I said as I heard the professor slamming the door shut and getting everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

A week has passed now without Jisung. And although I have Jaemin with me, it felt like I was missing something. It just didn’t feel right with him around. Being away from him made me look at the big picture. I’m deeply in love with him. I could deny that fact all I want but I’ll never be able to get away from it. I missed every part of him. His scent, laughter, smiles, the way I felt so right with him. But I also thought of my trust towards Jisung that was slowly deteriorating. I’ve been receiving constant texts and calls from Jisung, but I didn't reply, only using my anger as a way to keep myself from replying to his texts or picking up his calls.

“Yo your guy here is starving and craving Subway.” Jaemin shouted out while laying on his bed. I was in deep concentration while in a PUBG Mobile match. “Order us something, will you? I’m kinda busy.” I muttered.

“I was thinking of buying it downstairs. I need to walk around a little.” Jaemin stood up from his bed and stretched out his arms, groaning in the process. “Yeah sure, have fun.”

Jaemin went over to my bed and take a peek of my phone. “Okay firstly, why didn’t you invite me? Secondly, you know I’m not going without you. Come on.” He suddenly said, grabbing onto my arm and dragging me out while I was still concentrated in the match.

As Jaemin and I walked down the halls to get to food area where there were different fast food shops, including Subway, my eyes were kept on the screen as I feel Jaemin’s eyes on me and my phone, watching the match intensively.

“Oi! Kill him!” Jaemin shouted and constantly tapped my shoulder.

“I’m trying, idiot!” I shouted back. I realised we were already at Subway as Jaemin pushed the door open for me, his eyes still glued on my screen.

I quickly took a random seat that faced the door while Jaemin sat next to me. “Ah fuck!” I screamed, not too loud as I didn’t want the other customers to look at me as I died in the match.

Jaemin and I groaned at the same time as I slammed my phone on the table while Jaemin shaked his head.

“You can never win without me now can you?” Jaemin said with a cunning smirk. I punched his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Alright, hurry up. Invite me.” Jaemin said. I looked down at his phone to see that he was already in the app. “Damn, you’re quick.” Jaemin shrugged nonchalantly.

While Jaemin and I started the match and were playing together, I heard the door open. I didn’t really thought anything about it until I saw a figure at that was unrecognisable from my point of view. I took a quick look at the person, not thinking who it was and assumed it was a stranger. “Sorry this table’s taken.” I said simply.

“How long are you going to keep ignoring me, Quinn?”

Jaemin and I shot our heads up at the same time, knowing that familiar voice belonged to Jisung. He had a really concerned look in his eyes with a small frown. Jaemin scoffed, putting his phone down and leaning in with his elbows against the table. “She doesn’t want to see you. I’m sure she’s made that pretty clear.”

I placed my phone screen faced down on the table, unable to meet Jisung’s eyes. “No. I have to talk to her. Quinn please.” Jisung pleaded with soft eyes. I glanced over to Jaemin who bobbed his shoulders as a way to tell me it was my decision to talk to him or not. I let out a long sigh and nodded reluctantly.

Jisung placed his hand on my wrist and dragged me out. I took on one last look at Jaemin who mouthed out, “Be careful, love.” i could only take a deep breath as Jisung dragged me to a secluded seating area.

Jisung sat me down and sat on the opposite side. He had his arms interlocked on the table while i tapped my hands on my thighs. “Please tell me why you’re doing this to me..” Jisung whispered.

I glanced at another direction before gathering up courage to look at Jisung. Fuck those eyes. The sweet eyes of Jisung that could mesmerise anyone if he wanted to. “What are you and Ji A?” I asked sternly.

“We’re just friends, mere acquaintances.” Jisung immediately replied with no hesitation.

“Then how did she know where was your room?”

Jisung opened his mouth to reply but not a single sound came out for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

“I woke up in your room. You were nowhere to be seen. The door was unlocked and Ji A came in. She fucking threatened me saying that my relationship with you would go bad.”

“I- wait how did she-”

“Please don’t act. Stop all this bullshit you’re trying to pull.” I cut Jisung off.

I exhaled sharply. “Your 30 second trailer. Was it even real? What are you hiding from me?”

Jisung puffed his chest a little before running a hand down his face. “I...” I waited impatiently for him to gather the words he needed to explain what was about to be said next that completely shocked me.

“I made a bet with Ji A during a party. She said I have to make you fall for me to prove that I’m capable of being in a relationship.”

My mouth practically could fit a whole burger at how large it gaped open as I scoffed in astonishment. I slammed both my hands down on the table that was placed on my thighs before.

“So what? I was just some bet to you? I didn’t mean two fucks to you, huh? I should have known. You were too nice from the start. Fuck you. Gosh I didn’t know it was possible to lie in your trailer.” I said, adding a hint of sarcasm at the end.

“Wait Quinn please calm down I can explain-”

“You already did. I’ve known enough.” I stood up from my seat and took a full ninety degree turn to find Jaemin right in front of me, looking towards Jisung with angered eyes.

Jaemin rushed over to Jisung and grabbed him by his collar, lifting him up slightly from his seat. I tried pulling Jaemin away, only wanting to get away from Jisung but Jaemin pushed me back. “A bet? You played my best friend friend just for a bet to keep your pride? God you’re low.” Jaemin pushed Jisung back down on his seat violently.

Jaemin leaned in, his hands firm on the table as Jisung backed himself away ever so slightly.

“Stay the fuck away from Quinn here on out. You fucked up, big time. Don’t show up in front of us ever again. You don’t deserve her at all.” Jaemin gave Jisung a clear and taunted warning before grabbing me by the wrist and walking us away.

Jaemin doesn’t say a word when Jaemin walked us back to our room, immediately closing the door in front of us. “He’s a dickhead for doing that to you.” He muttered and he quickly sat down on his bed. I walked over and sat on mine, heaving out a long sigh. “Are you gonna cry again?” I heard Jaemin ask. I shook my head.

“I’m done crying. I feel pissed. Can I somehow constantly slam his tongue on a car door?” Jaemin couldn’t help but laugh. “It’ll be more fun to slam his head against the wall.” He added. The two of us laughed but the room grew quiet quickly.

“Wait isn’t our trailer suppose to show our true intentions we have with the person watching it? How did I miss such a huge thing?” I asked Jaemin.

“I’ve heard a rumour of people altering their trailers. I never thought people actually do it.” Jaemin inhaled and exhaled sharply.

“Fuck it. I just don’t want to see him anymore. End of year exams are coming. I can’t let shit like this get in the way.” I said with determination. Jaemin nodded.

The end of the year soon came. Our results were handed out this week and we could finally have some break time for Christmas. Students were allowed to leave college and celebrate with their families. However, for me and Jaemin, we decided to stay together this Christmas, opting to video call our loved ones to keep in touch.

“This place is so creepy with not many people here.” Jaemin spoke as we decided to walk around the college campus for the fun of it.

I shoved my hands into my padded jacket, letting out a sigh as smoke came out of my mouth. It was very cold this winter, but it seemed that snow has yet to fall. “I’m so glad we’re done for this year.” I whispered.

“Two more years till we graduate.” I added, looking at the shops that were closed and noticed that only the vending machine was working.

“Please don’t tell me-”

“Let’s go ghost hunting!” I laughed out loudly as I walked over to the vending machine. “Very funny, Jaemin.” I took out a one dollar coin from my wallet and placed in in the slot of the vending machine. Pressing on the drink I wanted, I waited for it to be dispensed.

I soon heard the canned drink and pick it up from the bottom slot. I looked at Jaemin who was staring at my drink. I shoved it towards his chest. “Open it.” Jaemin smiled and cracked open the top, drinking down a few gulps before handing the drink back to me.

“When do you think the snow is coming?” I asked Jaemin. I’ve always been fond of snow ever since I was little, playing in the snow by myself was what I did everyday.

Jaemin only shrugged and looked up into the sky. I did the same as well. “I’ll pray that it’ll come soon for you.”

I reached my hand out and ruffled his hair. “A thoughtful prince indeed.” I said with a subtle smile.

“Oh wait! What happened with the girl you were talking to back then?” I asked as the thought suddenly popped up in my mind. In the midst of whatever was happening between Jisung and I as well as the exams, I completely forgot about it.

“Eh I don’t like her. She’s not like you.” Jaemin shrugged nonchalantly.

“Your girlfriend isn’t suppose to be like me.” I commented.

“They say your significant other should have the same qualities as your best friend so that you two can click immediately.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, yeah.” I waved my hand in the air lazily.

“Hey guys..” I suddenly heard. Jaemin and I turned around, taking in a deep breathe in unison.

“Jisung.” Jaemin greeted with an uninterested look. Jisung bowed his head slightly at Jaemin before turning to me. “I thought you went out of college.”

“Oh no my family’s busy this Christmas so I can’t visit them.” I simply nodded my head. “Besides the point so anyways, can I talk to you, alone?” I looked to Jaemin, somewhat wanting to ask for his approval. Jaemin glared at Jisung before letting out a quiet sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go ahead.” Jaemin said with a tone of defeat.

Jisung pulled me by my the edge of my padded jacket as Jaemin soon left my view. “What is it that you want, Jisung?” I finally asked.

Jisung didn’t answer and only stared into my eyes. I raised an eyebrow. “If you aren’t going to say something-”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Quinn. I have been wanting to talk to you but with exams and all I didn’t want to bother you.” I watched as he pursed his lips into a thin line. “So now that exams are over you came to bother me?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm. Jisung shook his head furiously.

“Have you heard of the rumour about the first snowfall?” I sighed, shaking my head as I start to think about what he’s going on about.

“They say...” Jisung started as he took out my hands from my pockets and holding them dearly in his hands. I looked up to look at Jisung but found that he was admiring my hands, gently brushing his thumb over the back of my hand.

“They say that if you’re with the person you like in the first snowfall, it signified love and fate, symbolising that true love will blossom.”

I bit my bottom lip as my mind slowly went back to the times I’ve spent with Jisung. It would be a understatement to say that I’ve been reminiscing my past when Jisung was a big part of my life. Although my mind back then was concentrated on the exams, Jisung has always been somehow hidden away and never forgotten in the fold of my thoughts.

“I’ve heard of it.” I whispered, unable to meet Jisung’s eyes when he lifted his head up.

Jisung took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry for what happened. At first, I only got into your life because of the bet. But I truly did fell in love with you the more I got to know you and spent time with you. And I still am. I’m still in love with you. It pained me everyday when you avoided me and hated my guts. I’m just sorry for everything.” Jisung confessed. I felt a lump in my throat as I couldn’t make up an answer to give right away. “S-so what are you going to do about it?” I asked.

Jisung slowly took a step closer, closing the gap between us as he leaned in towards my face, our noses barely touching and our lips so close. And then, it happened naturally, Jisung connected his lips with mine, pulling me into the softest kiss ever that was filled with passion and care. It took me awhile to process what was happening before moving my lips in sync with his and closing my eyes.

As if this scene came out of a fairy tale, I felt something falling onto my head. I opened my eyes slightly as I continued to kiss Jisung, realising that snow has fallen onto us. The first snowfall.

Jisung pulled his lips away from mine as we both stared up into the sky, watching as the snow continued to fell. Jisung smiled softly as we both looked down to meet each other’s gaze.

“I love you, Quinn. Please be mine.” Jisung whispered softly as he got close to lean his forehead against mine. I bite the side of my cheek as I looked into his eyes, taking in the moment of silence to admire the person I dearly missed. “Don’t make me regret it.” I whispered back, taking the initiative to place my lips on Jisung’s to once again feel his sincere love.

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kisskissbanggang · 5 years ago

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[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]

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You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers.

“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”

Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with.

“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”

“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”

“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”

“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”

You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now.

“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated.

“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”

And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office.

“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“How many more calls this week?”

“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk.

You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression.

Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since.

So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting.

Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of.

You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”

“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”

You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation.

The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school?

Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students.

Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”

Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”

Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”

As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them.

You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites.

The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked.

Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous.

Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters.

The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them.

A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office.

You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”

It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed.

“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”

“Mr. Bang, I—“

“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head.

“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“

Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“

“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”

Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”

“What?” You asked, surprised.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”

“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely.

“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”

You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off.

“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest.

“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down.

“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office.

Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation.

“Stand up,” she simply directed Chris.

He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly.

Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“

“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”

“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”

“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue.

“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”

“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”

“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”

“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief.

Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”

Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”

Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”

Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake.

“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”

“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”

“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled.

“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”

Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”

“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”

“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket.

“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning.

“John called from his cell.”

You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school.

God dammit.

You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit.

The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall.

“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”

Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment.

“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away.

“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip.

“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you.

“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“

“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”

“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you.

“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”

Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?”

Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time.

“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”

You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast.

“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”

Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him.

Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?”

You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”

“Never,” he adamantly shook his head.

“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away.

“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was.

“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway.

“I didn’t mean you!”

You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”

Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”

Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably.

“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined.

“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”

“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently.

“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him.

“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”

“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.

“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”

“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”

“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms.

“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait.

“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”

“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed.

“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst.

“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted.

“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him.

However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment.

“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”

Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”

Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—

Oh.

Hello, stranger.

Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder.

You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.

“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”

Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”

“We don’t?”

“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”

“We kissed?”

Ouch.

You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”

“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”

“I know,” you commiserated.

“What do we do now?”

“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”

“How are we doing that?”

“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”

“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”

You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”

Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”

“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”

“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”

“You alright?”

“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter.

“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly.

“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split.

“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.

“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you.

“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands.

“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”

“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”

“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”

“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”

“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”

“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”

“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”

“You bought a house?!”

Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”

“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”

“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously.

“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive.

“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”

Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”

“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”

“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”

“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”

Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”

“They will,” you impatiently assured him.

“Even Doyoung?”

“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle.

“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”

You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning.

“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”

“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”

“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”

Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall.

“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”

You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws.

So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday.

A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open.

Hello Stranger,

1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong.

2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you.

A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.

“What do people think of me?”

Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that.

Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”

All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”

A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”

“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you.

>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday.

There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already.

“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway.

“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in.

“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk.

“Are these—?”

“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”

“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”

“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.

“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”

Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”

“About what?”

“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”

A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”

“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up.

“I feel good today.”

“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”

A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny.

>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.

But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”

You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”

“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back.

The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”

“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward.

“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”

“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”

“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”

A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”

You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“

“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”

“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”

At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“

“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked.

You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?”

Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door.

You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up.

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom.

“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“

Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”

“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door.

“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”

“Wait, you don’t want me to—“

“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled.

He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you.

“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong.

“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”

He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”

“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds.

Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”

“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”

Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.”

Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out.

“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk.

“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused.

“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”

“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”

“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“

“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question.

“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”

“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”

“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless.

“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”

“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice.

“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.

“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm.

The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.

So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap.

It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—

Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow.

“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.

“Hey—“

Doyoung?

“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”

“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”

“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”

“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“

“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“

“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”

“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand.

“Oh, one more thing—“

Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”

“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”

“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”

“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”

Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten?

“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”

The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression. “What? Is everything alright?”

“You want this to be serious?”

Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”

“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”

He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”

“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.”

It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?”

“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”

Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #kwritersworldnet #kprosenet #bang chan x reader #bang chan breakdown

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tinycaprisun · 4 years ago

Text

a song about it raining somewhere else

title: a song about it raining somewhere else characters: chuck taylor x trent beretta word count: 3822 part: 1/1 warnings: mild cursing, and like that’s kinda it? maybe mild angst? but also i’m a baby and it becomes fluff by the end? a/n: howdy, this is not another i’m back i’m back piece as much as it honestly is. no, see this time- this is actually a gift! 2 days ago was @trentjinshi’s birthday and i wanted to write him something! so i sat down for like 6 hours with my goopy goblin gay brain and spit out this obvious magnum opus. so, like, don’t hate it please. also hugest happy birthday to emil again!! yeehaw... i’ve technically already sent this to u

You know, of all days to have the soul crushing realization that you’ve secretly been in love with your best friend, Trent should have expected it to happen on Valentine’s Day.

The man had garbage luck anyways, and good things seemingly never happened to him. So when Chuck animatedly told him he had a date that night with some girl, Trent’s heart shouldn’t have blown apart like he had been shot. Sure, he pretended to be supportive of his buddy, returning his radiant smile despite the effect never reaching his eyes, And yeah, he wished him all the best, telling the taller man he hoped it went well.

But did Trent mean any of that? Fuck no! He was dying on the inside, mourning the loss of a relationship and love he didn’t even know he wanted! Perhaps he should have considered himself lucky that he didn’t start bawling his eyes out on the spot. The New Yorker had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the crying really was not out of the question at that moment. But he contained his feelings somehow, moving on through the rest of that afternoon like he was trudging through a snowstorm. Slow, cold, and slowly dying from the inside out.

So that led him here, sitting in his car as the rain started to come down, refusing to turn the damn thing on. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel room. Because if he did, it would remind him of the obvious. He went home alone tonight.

Chuck wasn’t alone. His friend had a probably beautiful person with a perfect personality sitting across from him at a fancy restaurant. A person who wasn’t him. Why couldn’t Trent be his perfect date? He would laugh at his jokes, softly hold his hand as they walked in from the parking lot, pull his chair out for him, admire him like he was the sun-

A harsh banging came from his left, rhythmically tapping against the glass of his car window in time with the rain drops. Trent’s head jerked up from where it had defeatedly slumped against the steering wheel to see who was trying to get his attention.

It was a security guard, holding an umbrella in one hand and wavering him off with another, politely telling him to leave the premises as the arena building they were at was closing. To be honest, getting a ticket from not leaving and instead rotting in that parking lot forever sounded like a far better time than he was having. But, he didn’t have a choice. Story of his life.

Trent started up his car, quickly leaving off into the vast night with only his thoughts to keep him company. And that was rapidly becoming annoying. The singular thing on his mind was one person, and how all this time, his feelings were so obvious. Every time he even glanced in his friend’s direction his heart rate would spike. Before now, he had chalked that up to coincidence or - considering it was Trent and how his body loved to torture him - underlying health conditions. Evidently, it was neither of those things.

One would think he would catch on to his festering crush sooner; considering he thought the entire world of Chuck and whenever he had to go more than a few days without seeing him, he would get a weird sense of longing to be back in his presence, but nothing ever wanted to work out that way. Life thought it would be much funnier if Trent felt like he was being ripped apart at the seams by a simple sentence.

Between the still processing of what it even meant to have a crush on your best friend, and knowing that right now he was out with some other person having the time of his life, Trent was not feeling great as he drove down the freeway. Grumbling under his breath, he flicked the radio on to fill the car with something other than his problems. A song the brunette had never heard before crackled to life, being about part of the way through.

By the time we get there, everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables and the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good, but we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm-

Fucking perfect! The last person to mess with the radio in Trent’s car was Chuck, and bastard left it on one of his stupid country stations. Trent didn’t even like country music! That didn’t stop him, however, from a few days ago when they were driving from city to city and let Chuck put on whatever he liked, even if it was something he was going to hate. He would make tiny sacrifices like that all the time for his partner, because he knew it would earn him one of those sunlit smiles. Trent really would do anything to make Chuck happy, and had been since they met.

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd when you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you

It... It was a love song?

“Throw me off a fucking bridge.” Trent mumbled to himself as he exited an off ramp. Seriously, who out there was tormenting him and making him have possibly the worst day ever? What omnipotent being did he piss off? He thought he was an alright dude, not getting into other people’s business and sort of keeping to himself. Most days he made an attempt to be somewhat nice to others and never did any of that vile or cruel shit. And yet, he was cursed to drive home while listening to a love song in a genre that he hated, and only helped to remind him more of his best friend.

Let's promise when we get in that we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations, make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into "Who's leaving here with who?" But I just want 'em all to see me come in late to the party with you

Wasn’t that a funny line. Wanting others to see the person you’re with because of how much you loved them? Trent understood that. Whenever he would go anywhere with Chuck, he would always want people to know he was there with him- whether he realized it or not.

He could talk for hours about him. It could be the simple telling of a funny story, or gushing about how good he was in the ring. Or how great of a friend he was. That made Trent wonder about what Chuck would be like if they were together. His mind wandered, dreaming up scenarios and infinite possibilities as he pulled into his hotel’s parking garage.

The musing didn’t stop when he killed the engine, happily ending that fucking song that was starting to piss him off with how cute it was. Trent pushed himself out of the car, gathering his singular bag from the trunk and wandering inside through the rain. Which, if anyone was curious, was even worse than it was when he left. It was coming down in buckets now, being slung into the New Yorker’s face by the wind.

Checking in was easy enough, having the briefest of conversations with the man at the desk who happened to have a thick southern accent.

Chuck had an accent, but only when he drank a lot. It took about 3 and a half beers for it to come out, but by that point he didn’t care all that much to hide it. He wouldn’t be trashed, as he was a pretty solid drinker and had made putting strong shit back a hobby over the last few years. Trent knew exactly how it sounded, though. A smooth Kentucky accent that always caused him to punctuate the last word of his sentences and pronounce certain things differently. Never anything like “y’all” or something southern like that, after all Chuck wasn’t that dime store cowboy they worked with.

The thing Trent remembered the most about Chuck’s accent was how he said his name. He would draw it out, almost like he was whining, except it was low in his voice and always accompanied by a wide grin. One that’s toothy like Cheshire Cat, and annoyingly sweet like bubblegum. Trent idly wondered if he tasted like bubblegum too, but the thought turned vivid fantasy was interrupted for a moment by the elevator reaching his floor.

The brunette slowly approached his room, still partially entranced by the ideas he had created in his mind as he unlocked his door and slipped in. From there, it felt like he wasn’t even alive anymore. Not in a morbid sense, but as in he wasn’t participating in the concept of reality at that moment. Trent was so disconnected from his actions, it was almost as though he was outside of his body and looking in from somewhere else. So much so, that when he snapped out of his revere from his phone buzzing, he was lying in bed wearing only his boxers.

Not that what was on his phone was of any importance to him. All Trent saw were notifications for things he didn’t care about, the only thing sticking out was a short text from Orange sending him more condolences over his current “issue”. Damn, he was acting like someone had died, not his friend’s heart being broken. Trent didn’t bother responding, tossing the device back on the bedside table and rolling over to face away from it.

The alarm clock on the other stand read “10:17 p.m.”, blinking at him like the piece of shit was broken. It also only now occurred to Trent that he had never turned the lights on while he was basically astral projecting. So he was bathed in darkness, with the only illumination being that digital clock and the street lights below outside the window.

Was he going to fall asleep at a respectable time? Because deep in his bones he could feel the shroud of tiredness creeping through him from all of the emotional energy he drained today. And with that, Trent grabbed one of the unused pillows and wrapped himself around it, cuddling it tightly and not bothering to get under the bed covers.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Trent could pretend the pillow was something else. --

Who in the hell was knocking at his door at - the New Yorker stopped his angry brain tirade to peek at the clock again - 11:53 at night? He had only gotten to sleep an hour and it was cut short by who knew what. If this was Orange coming to tell him he had broken another hotel microwave by “forgetting to take the metal spoon out of his mac and cheese”, Trent was going to fucking kill him.

Getting up from where he lay, Trent stumbled blearily across the room to the door. In those few seconds, it processed with him that his hair must have come untied while he was sleeping because it was messily draped around his shoulders. Among that, he was still only dressed in boxers, riding rather low on his hips. Maybe he had a restless sleep even though it was quick?

He didn’t care what he looked like though as he slowly pulled the door open with a yawn and blinked from the harsh light flooding in from the hallway. Trent prepared to open his mouth and berate his shorter friend when he heard a sniffle come from in front of him.

Chuck was standing on the other side of the doorway, soaking wet from the rain. By the look on his face, it seemed as though he had been crying as well, with red eyes and a running nose. His eyes didn’t meet Trent’s as he all but whispered, “H-hey, man.”

Did the longer haired brunette care that his friend was ice cold and drenched from head to toe? No. That was why without words, he dragged his friend into the room and hugged him tightly, letting the hotel door slip closed on its own. Chuck didn’t need to be told twice to hug back, nearly crushing Trent from the strength of his shaking arms.

They stayed like that for a good while, with Trent rubbing soothing circles into his back and letting him rest his head on his shoulder when he began to weep again. That was before he slowly drew back, silently taking Chuck’s hand and guiding him to his bed so he could sit. Trent grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around his friend, figuring he could just use a blanket later when he needed to sleep.

“I... didn’t even tell you- what’s wrong..?” murmured the Kentuckian, slouching in on himself and bringing his knees up so they were closer to his chest. He must have been really cold. Trent paused for a moment, looking with a pained yet sympathetic smile.

“Don’t need to. You’re upset, and I gotta fix that.” He wasn’t sure who hurt him, or even what, but just let it be known he was going to destroy whatever it was.

“Well, uh, t-thank you?”

“Yeah, dude. I-” Love you. “Care about you. You’re my friend and shit. Hurts to see you cry.” With that, Trent carefully maneuvered around Chuck and hopped off the bed to go rifle through his clothes for something dry he could wear. And- probably some pants for himself. When he first opened the door, he couldn’t help but notice Chuck gave him the slightest look up and down, with his cheeks going red afterwards. Trent assumed it was only because he was cold, and the warmth from his bedroom had fucked with his internal body temperature.

While digging through his bags trying to find some of the clothes he always packed for his friend - and if it were any other day than today, Trent would have told you it was because he was just being a nice guy. He knew better than that now. - Chuck began to talk again. “Date ditched me...”

“They didn’t show up?”

Chuck sighed. “No, she did. But- when her ex came around... She would’a rather been with him.”

Trent grabbed the extra clothes and stood, turning around to face Chuck who was staring off into the corner. Considering how already destroyed his heart already was from earlier, he was a bit surprised it still had a few more pieces that could shatter at this sight. Coming back over, he set the pile to one side of him, then sat back down on the other. “Chuck...”

“I don’t know what I expected? Every girl, or hell- every guy, I’ve ever tried to date has never worked out for me. I don’t get it.” Oh, Trent should not have been so happy to hear those words. Well, he wasn’t happy to hear most of them, and was hurting for his friend, but two of them in particular stuck out to him like a sore thumb. Every guy. That meant Chuck had been on dates with men. That meant, even though it was fucked up to think about this at the moment, that Trent still had a chance.

“You just haven’t found the right one, man. None of those assholes from before deserve you anyways.” Chuck brought his gaze back over to Trent, eyes glassy and expression- disbelieving. His hair was matted to his head, still wet in some places, but mostly stuck in small spots to his forehead. Everything else about him was still about the same caliber as that, slowly drying and clinging to parts of his body that weren’t being disrupted by the comforter.

“Or maybe I didn’t deserve them...” Something- came over Trent then. There wasn’t a word for the mix of emotions he felt upon hearing that. But what he could feel were his hands taking either side of his best friend’s face and holding his head up to where he would look him in the eyes.

“That’s not true, you and I both know that. Anyone in the world would be lucky to have you.”

Chuck honest to god laughed at that and tilted his head. “Name one person.”

Fuck. For all intents and purposes, the answer he desperately wanted to give was ‘Me’, but that never came out of his mouth. Instead, it was like Trent was suspended in fear, unable to say what he wanted for the thought of being rejected. Or somehow even worse, him thinking it was a joke and getting upset with him. So, Trent said nothing, trying to think of a different response that would be true, but didn’t give himself away.

That was the nail in the coffin, though. Chuck took his silence as an answer, unable to provide a single person who could possibly want to be with him. The other man shook Trent’s hands away from his face, hurt welling up in his eyes with a grimace as he moved to grab the clothes that were gotten for him.

“See,” Chuck hobbled to a standing position, holding the clean garments close to his sodden chest like it was going to protect him from the pain he was feeling. Trent, just say something, anything, he yelled to himself whilst watching Chuck shuffle over to the bathroom and pull the door open. He flicked his eyes down to the floor for a moment before coming back up and locking onto Trent’s. “No one could ever love me...”

“Chuck-” Trent was too late, Chuck had already disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. And God damn it, his stomach had sunk to the depth of his being, twisting and turning like he was going to be sick. He should have said something. Even if it meant ruining the only thing he really had left to care about. There was his job, his other friends, his family and that; and while they meant a lot to him as well, he truly believed in that moment, and probably for some while now, that Chuck was his world.

As goofy and kind of bullshit as it was to hear, that’s what he felt like. That this guy he’s known for a good chunk of his life was his sun, moon, and every star in the sky. And Trent knew he’s never felt that way about another person. He knew that no other person on this Earth - or fuck, any other planet - could beam at him when they pull an upset and win a match together like he could. No one else made his chest feel warm whenever they complimented him quite the same way that Chuck did. There wasn’t a soul who had the same giggle, the wit, the determination, the personality- fucking any of it. No one had quite what his best friend had, and that was why he loved him.

Trent had no idea how long Chuck was going to be in there, or if he was ever going to come out. Knowing him, he could stay in there all night, not wanting to face the world again- let alone his friend. Even still, he got up from where he was and placed himself a few paces away from his bathroom door. Within his head, he hyped himself up, vowing that no matter if he got scared or felt like everything was going to go wrong, the New Yorker was going to tell him the truth.

Approximately 4 minutes later - if you asked Trent it felt like 10 years - Chuck finally emerged from his hiding place, dressed in some of his friend’s clothes and with shockingly drier hair. Not sure why he was so surprised that he had run a towel through it or something, but that didn’t matter. The taller man seemed confused as to why Trent was standing at the door, but before he could ask what was happening, Trent said, “I do.”

Chuck squinted at him with a, “What?” but it came out choked off and shaky, like he wasn’t prepared to speak.

“You said no one could ever love you, and that’s not true. Because I love you,” He wanted to protest, but now that Trent was talking, he couldn’t stop. “And I didn’t realize it until today, but I seriously am so in love with you that I don’t think I could picture my life without you. You mean everything to me and I would do anything for you just to see your beautiful smile or hear you say my name. And I know it sounds like I’m lying and that I’m trying to make you feel better, but I’m not. If I think about it, I feel like I’ve loved you forever but never realized it, and I wish I could have known sooner. Because you need to know that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I would be the luckiest guy in the world to even have a chance with you-”

“Trent-”

“I love the way you purposefully send me a string of those stupid emojis over text because you know it annoys me. I love how you can make anyone feel better with just one smile and your passion for loving others. I love how much you love animals and how every dog you see, you consider kidnapping-'' Trent had become so caught up in his declaration that he hadn’t noticed his friend had moved from in front of him and Chuck’s lips were on his.

Before he could even do anything; not even get a gasp at the sudden action, Chuck was already pulling away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. His face was bright red and his hands were holding either of Trent’s arms as he searched his face for a reaction. Or anything really.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” It felt as though Trent was living in one of those shitty romantic comedies he secretly liked to watch, because he was the one who cut Chuck off while speaking with an somehow even more desperate kiss. He felt him respond almost instant, bringing one of his hands up to Trent’s face to cup it gently as his own arms latched cautiously onto Chuck’s hips. And that was where they stayed, for who knew how long, but every second of it was exactly where they wanted to be.

You know, of all days to have the life-changing realization that you’re secretly in love with your best friend, Trent - and Chuck for that matter - hadn’t expected it to happen on (the day after) Valentine’s Day.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Note

Hullo, Steph, and happy new year! Sorry if someone has asked this already, but I’m searching for Jealous John fics (preferably new ones). Just finished reading “White Knight” by DiscordantWords, and it is amazing!!! Once again, thank you SO MUCH for all the work and effort you put into this blog... the fandom wouldn’t be the same without you.

Hi Nonny!!

Thank you for the well wishes! I hope you had a good holiday season yourself <3

I don’t have very many new Jealous John fics, but I do have some new ones to add to my past lists! So, why not, let’s update my Jealous John and Jealous Sherlock Fic rec list!! <3 I’m sorry if none of them are “new” fics… I’ve SO many fics to read, and I only usually rec fics I’ve read, so if any of my lovelies have some suggestions for Nonny, please let us know!! <3

JEALOUSY Pt. 5